“Oh good. I didn’t want to interrupt you if you were. How are you? Are you enjoying more time at the office?”
I put the call on speakerphone, and while my mom rattles off about five more questions about my health and well-being, I get dressed and go to the laundry room to switch out the stuff I forgot last night.
My mom is one of those caretaker moms. Always worried I’m not eating enough vegetables or getting enough sleep. Worried about my happiness. She’s kind and sweet, and my siblings and I probably pushed her patience to the brink as kids.
I grab a handful of wet laundry and toss it in the dryer.
“And then the camping trip is going to beeverybodythis year. Literally everyone is coming.”
I try to focus on what Mom’s saying, but then I spot something pink in my pile of clothes. It’s a pink T-shirt—not mine. I pull it out and look at it. It’s one of those that’s missing the bottom half.
I toss it into the dryer with my stuff—I might as well. Then I find a pair of purple socks and athletic shorts that are definitely not mine. They all go in the dryer with my stuff. I’ll leave it in the laundry room when it’s done.
“I sort of think Preston is going to propose to his girlfriend soon since Grandma is going to be there. You know I don’t like to talk bad about people, but that boy just drives me up a wall.”
I chuckle at that. “He’s got real talent, doesn’t he?”
“Ainsley’s frantic for someone else to win that bet with Goldie. How incredible would that be?” Mom full-on cackles at the thought of us winning that bet from Grandma Goldie.
There’s not a lot of love lost between her and Sharon—Dad’s sister and Preston’s mom. It’s funny because most of my family is incredibly laid-back, but Sharon is the one who can take a good thing and make it bad. It’s a special gift. Needless to say, we try to avoid that part of the family as much as possible.
“You don’t have anyone on the horizon, do you?”
I reach into the lip of the washer, where socks sometimes get caught. There’s something blue in there. I pull it out and realize it’s Lucy’s underwear. It’s a blueberry print.
“Well, I do have a roommate…”
“What? I didn’t know that.”
“Yep. Lucy has been living with me for a month now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that in our other phone calls?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“And you’ve been here! You were at our house last week, and you said nothing,” she accuses. “Tell me about her.”
She acts like I’m telling her about a girlfriend.
“I was nervous to live with someone, but she’s been great. She’s a fun one.” I leave it at that. I don’t know why I’m going into so much detail. We’re just roommates.
“Oh, is that so? I’ve been meaning to get over to the valley. Maybe I can swing by sometime soon. I’d love to meet your roommate.” Mom has a conspiratorial tone, and now I wonder if she’s about to suggest I be the one to beat Preston on the bet.
But that would be ridiculous. My mom wouldn’t do something like that. Ainsley? Yes. But not my mother.
“I hate to run, Mom, but I’m late for work. I forgot to set my alarm last night.”
“Okay, sweetie. Have a great day. Love you!”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and realize that I’m still holding Lucy’s underwear. Good thing she isn’t home to see me being a weirdo.
I set the underwear on top of the dryer and hope she’ll find them eventually.
In the kitchen, there’s a plate of muffins on the counter, along with a note on a ripped piece of lined paper.
Hey, sorry I was snappy last night. These are apology muffins. Thanks for being such a great roommate!
