“You can sleep tonight. I have to get a dress.”
Oh no. No, no, no.
I love my mother, but shopping with her is its own version of misery.
She hates everything.
Things aren’t made like they used to be. The patterns are all too loud. Where did the nice buttons go, the ones that were metal and didn’t break like these confounded plastic ones? Why don’t they hem with the box stitch? Don’t they know it’s stronger? Or my favorite, when she complains about buying a piece of clothing that already has holes.
It’s not fun.
It’s definitely not going to happen when I’m this tired.
“Can we please go tomorrow?”
“No.”
This isn’t going my way. “Can Daddy take you?”
Her huff is answer enough. “No, your father is busy doing the chores around this farm. Since you’re not busy, you can take me.”
This is my penance for having sex last night.
No one can convince me otherwise.
“All right, Momma. Let me get up, get dressed, and get caffeinated.”
She leaves, and I do the first two. While I’m in the bathroom brushing my hair, a text comes through.
I grin when I see the name. Last night, we decided to change our contact names in each other’s phones, so in case anyone sees a text, they won’t know who it is.
Ben Thrustin
How are you doing this morning?
Good, you?
Ben Thrustin
Tired, but it was worth it.
Agreed.
“Lark!” Momma calls, and I drop the phone in the sink.
“Shit,” I whisper-yell, then call, “I’ll be down in a minute!”
I have stuff to do today. I’ll text you when I know a time.
Ben Thrustin
Sounds good. Talk to you later, Jenna Talia.
I laugh, remembering the name I picked for myself.
Sounds good, Mr. Thrustin.
I put the phone in my back pocket, pull my hair into a ponytail, and head downstairs, where my mother is standing with her purse on her shoulder at the door and a to-go coffee cup in her hand.
