“And the tone was kind of weird.”
“I think you’re just worried about seeing your parents because you know they’re going to ask you about it, and because of that, you felt like there was something more behind her question.”
I lick my lips and then look over at him.
“Maybe you’re right. It’s probably just in my head.”
I want to smack him in the face. If there was one flaw Fletcher had, aside from being annoyingly oblivious most of the time, it would be that he’s too quick to see the good in people.
Maybe because of how I grew up, I never learned to trust in the same way he did, but sometimes it’s annoying. I guess when you have two moms who are always telling you to see the best in people because they were fostering kids who didn’t grow up the way you did, it’s kind of hard to not see the best in everyone.
“So, you’d be down to go out with Casey the night before we head back to campus?” He smiles. “I texted her while you ran to the bathroom and told her we were leaving on the 28thin the afternoon, and she suggested getting together on the 27th.”
“Um, I’m not sure. I’ll have to see what the plan is with my sister being in town and everything.”
“No problem. I’ll let her know you’re a maybe.”
“Thanks. Um, I should probably get inside before my mom blows a gasket.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab my bag from the trunk. I don’t say anything else to Fletcher; I just wave as I head up the steps to the front door. I grab my key from the front pocket of my bag and let myself in, dropping my bag by the stairs.
“I’m home!” I yell out.
No one responds, but I hear voices in the kitchen, so I walk that way.
It’s strange how different it is walking into my house versus Fletcher’s house. His house was loud. Kids were running around, and pans were clanking together.
There was so much love.
My house seems cold. Everyone standing in the kitchen looks so put together, drinking white wine.
The conversations are happening at a mellow volume, with soft jazz music filling the silence.
I feel underdressed, like an outsider. I didn’t realize I had to wear my Sunday best to my own house.
“Tatum.” My mom smiles. She walks toward me and wraps her arms around me.
This is new.
My mom isn’t necessarily a bad person; she’s just never been one for affection.
“Mom.” She holds onto my shoulders as she steps back from the hug.
“Do you want to go get cleaned up?” she asks.
“I’m okay,thanks.”
“Alright.” I can tell from the look on her face that it’s anything butalright. “We’ve got company. You know Ethan. These are his parents, Arthur and Lucille.”
“Barely,” I mumble under my breath as I walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. “It’s nice to meet you guys.”
I give them each a handshake because I feel like that’s the proper thing to do in this situation.
“Nice to meet you.” Lucille squeezes my hand the way my grandmother used to. “You look just like your mother and sister. It’s uncanny.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “I get that all the time.”
“Hi, Tater-tot.” My dad’s arms swallow me, and I sink into them. This seems a little more natural. Although I don’t see them often, before my dad allowed himself to get sucked into his work, he was this affectionate and loving dad.
