I reached my truck and tried the handle on the driver's side. Locked. The same goes for the passenger door. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I held onto the side of the truck as I walked toward the back. The hinge of the gate groaned as I opened it. It wasn’t graceful, but I climbed into the back.
It wouldn’t be the first time I camped out in the back of the truck. Rolling onto my back, I found the stars barely visible over the street lights. Unlike the quarry, they fought to be seen. “I can relate,” I mumbled. Only the North Star stood out against the dark canopy.
My mind wanted to replay the conversation, to pinpoint all the places I wedged my foot in my mouth. I closed my eyes and imagined those thick forearms. It didn’t solve anyproblems, but it was a pleasant thought as I drifted into an alcohol-induced slumber.
“Where am I?”
I shot upright. I sat on something squishy, definitely not the truck bed. In the dark, I smelled warm, cheap instant coffee. It took a moment to realize somebody had draped an afghan across my body. I shook my head, regretting it as the headache turned painful.
I continued blinking until I could make out a nearby light. As I spotted Mom reading a book in her favorite armchair, I couldn’t figure out what was going on.
Mom didn’t look up from her book as she carefully turned the page. A lamp on the table next to her projected enough light that I could make out her t-shirt and sweatpants. Once convinced, my brain tried to sort out how I had gotten here. Had I driven while drunk? I reached for my pockets and remembered Matt had my keys.
“Are you looking for these?”
Mom reached for the side table. She jingled my keys before setting them down. I slid my legs off the couch and leaned my head back on the couch. I was going to be embarrassed if I found out Matt had Mom come out to pick up her drunken child. How did she get me in the back of her car?
“How did I get here?”
“Bigger question…” She slid a bookmark into place and shut her novel. Setting it on the stand, she crossed her arms. “Why get too drunk to remember?”
Mom never drank more than a glass of wine, not since that debacle at her tenth-class reunion. Even Dad shied away from booze. She’d always say, “If you need booze to have fun, you’re doing it wrong.” With the tap dancing happening in the back of my skull, I might agree for once.
“Simon didn’t want you to be alone.”
I groaned. I’d rather have woken up in the back of my truck to morning commuters honking their horns. At least if Matt had done it, I’d be able to… what? Stay mad? Wallow? I don’t know. Yet again, Simon proved that he’s a decent human being. It was me making things weird. If I could get over this unrealistic expectation, maybe we’d be friends.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m sure you’ve already heard.”
She picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. Had she intended to watch over me for the night, or did she foresee this conversation happening? Moms had this uncanny ability to know when their children were in distress. She wouldn’t let me dance around the conversation.
“I’ve heard your boyfriend has a complicated home life.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He’s a boy, and by the way he carried you in here, he strikes me as a friend.” The thought of him lugging me up the steps and waking Mom up made this so much worse. The more of a gentleman he turned into, the more I mourned a future that never happened.
“He has a wife.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are.” My mom needed to work on her bedside manner. “So, he has a wife. I’m not seeing a problem.”
“He has awife. He’s married. That’s a problem.”
She continued her chuckling. “Gerald?—”
“Can we not with Gerald? I’ll be happy for you in the morning.”
“Don’t you pull a tone with me, mister.”
I sulked. Childish, I know. Mom slid to the end of her chair, resting her elbows on her knees. The light to the side made the white wisps of hair almost glow so that she had a halo behind her head.
“Do you know how Gerald refers to your dad?”
