“I’m pissed with you for getting in trouble. You were lucky this time… Even the doctor admitted it,” I comment, and my voice trails off as footsteps shuffle behind the door.
He pushes upright, and I rise from my seat.
The girl knocks on the door.
“May I come in?” her sweet voice comes to us.
“Please behave,” Ezra says. “I don’t want you to scare her off. And by the way, I need a favor.”
“What favor?”
His hand goes up.
“Yes. You can come in,” he says in a loud voice, and the door starts sliding open.
Why do I have a feeling he’s about to set me up again?
Amanda carries a bottle of juice and a cup of coffee. I pivot to the door and hold it for her.
“I didn’t get you anything,” she says, apologetic.
“I’m fine,” I say, putting forward my best effort not to ruin the evening for my son and his new friend.
Ezra makes the introductions, and I find myself holding a small, soft hand in mine. It feels like a restless dove. I can tell she can’t wait to stay closer to him and farther away from me despite my innocent smile and low-energy attitude.
She puts the drinks on the side table and fishes out a pack of peanut butter crackers and a whole-grain cereal bar.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” I say to him.
“You don’t need to. We’ll manage it,” he says, tossing me a stern look from behind her.
His manhood is in danger, so I pull back.
“Okay. You know where to find me if you need anything,” I reply. “You were saying something about needing a favor.
“Yeah…”
He touches the woman’s arm, and I get worried.
Why is he pussyfooting around this?
“Amanda,” he says in a sweet voice that makes the girl melt into a puddle.
Women are so easy at this age.
“Yes,” she says promptly.
“Can you bring the duffel bag for him?”
Now I really start to get worried.
“Sure,” she chirps and reaches behind a partition screen.
We both watch her come back with a basic, zippered, gray duffel bag.
“What is this?” I ask as she sets it on the bed.
“I had just picked it up from a store before I got hit by the car.”
