“Okay.”
“Talk later.”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t want to hang up. I can tell. I don’t want to hang up either, so I hesitate.
He stays on the line, so I press the phone back to my ear.
“Hang up first,” he says.
I smile and hang up without saying anything. I put the phone face down on my chest and let my smile widen.
The house is empty by ten. My mom and Tyr leave at nine-forty for the farmers’ market in town, which is, apparently, athing they do on Sundays now. Tyr asks me if I want to come, and I say no without thinking about it. Then I feel bad and addthank you for asking,and he nods and tells me to make myself at home, which is a sentence somebody is finally saying about this house.
The kitchen is clean. The dishes from last night are not in the sink. The counter doesn’t have the layer of old food like it usually does. Even the coffee maker has been wiped down. I must be losing my mind. Then I open the fridge. I gawk at what’s inside. First of all, it’s filled. It’s busy in here. Eggs. Butter. Whole milk. Oat milk? What the hell. There are vegetables in the bottom drawer that look like they’re not rotting. I close it and sit at the kitchen table.
I let the tears fall. Just one quick, poor me cry. That’s all. Nothing more.
Even with all the fancy ingredients, I reach for the cereal and milk. And I don’t dare use the oat milk.
I take my laptop to the couch and plan my week when my phone starts buzzing. My pulse jumps at the thought of Gianna or Benson calling. Then I see it’s Penelope.Oh.
“Hey, Lucy.”
“Hi, Pen.”
“Mara texted me this morning. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” My heart skips a beat just thinking about Gianna kicking me out. “I’m at my mom’s.”
“Okay. I’m not going to make this a long phone call. I wanted to throw this out there in case you needed it. My second bedroom is open. My roommate is studying abroad, and I was going to sublet it, and I told her I’d find someone, but I haven’t yet. It’s open now. If you want it, it’s yours. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Whenever.”
“Thank you,” I say automatically. It’s kind of her to think of me.
“No pressure. I’m just telling you it’s there.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious. The room is yours. Rent is six-fifty. I have the lease — we can write you onto it or you can pay me and keep it informal. Whatever’s easier.”
“Thank you, Pen.”
“Call me this afternoon if you need to talk.”
“Okay.”
She hangs up. I sit on the couch with the phone in my hand. The house falls back to being extremely quiet. It’s odd how silent it is in here. I feel a little better knowing that I have options.
My mom and Tyr come back a little before two. They come through the front door with two canvas bags from the farmers’ market and a small tray of pastries Tyr bought. He sets the pastries on the kitchen table and tells me to try one.
Bear comes home from the park a little after two with grass stains on his knees and his hood pulled up.
“Where were you, baby?”
“Park.”
“How was it?”
