Phoebe:No one’s. Chill.
Sam:Cool, cool. So you and your roommate are going away for the weekend? Nice.
Phoebe:Nope.
Sam:Phoebe Cordelia James…
Phoebe:Samuel NoMiddleName Wisnowski…
Sam:Seriously, are you going away for the weekend with a ...boy?! Or girl? Or person--totally cool, not trying to be an asshole.
Phoebe:A guy. And it’s not serious.
Phoebe:Ok, it’s semi-serious. But that’s all I’m saying.
Phoebe:Gee, look at the time! I have class. And shouldn’t you be teaching?
Sam:They’re taking a test. God, I love test days. Bring this joker home, Phoebe. I can't wait to meet him…
Phoebe: I’ll think about it.
And I will. Ty and I have been together more than a month now, so I think dinner-with-the-parents or, in my case, my mom and her best friend who totally crushes on her, seems like the thing to do. And I know Ty’s not close at all with his family, but I think he’d like to meet mine. At least I hope so. I shoot off a quick text before I can second-guess myself.
Phoebe:Hey, I just talked to Sam. I’m going home for dinner next Thursday to get some clothes and see my mom. I thought maybe you might want to come? We could spend the night or just drive back, whatever’s easiest? And then leave for Ollie’s cabin Friday morning. Totally cool if not. Just let me know. ;)
I wait a few minutes, pass the time by scrolling through my phone, but there’s no response. But that’s not a big deal. He’s probably in class.
***
Ty
I’m sitting in Lit Theory when I see Phoebe’s text come in, but I don’t open it. Yea, that makes me an asshole, but it’s just one item on a list of about a hundred where Phoebe is concerned, so I guess it makes no difference at this point.
Do I want to go home with her? Meet Sam and her mom? Have dinner and spend the night? Be told in no uncertain terms to sleep on the couch, but sneak up to her childhood bedroom in the middle of the night and do delicious things to her?
Fuck, yes.
But can I?
Hell, no.
First off, there’s the chance her mom or Sam would recognize me or my name. Yea, my last name is different from mom’s, since I’m not her husband’s son. But there’s a chance either Sam or Phoebe’s mom has heard my full name at some point. So it’s too risky.
And, yea, if dinner with the fam is too risky, what the ever-loving fuck am I doing in a full-on relationship with this girl? Alarm bells should be ringing in my head, warning me off this crazy road I’m on.
And maybe they are going off, clanging and ringing their doom. But I don’t hear them. The more time I spend with Phoebe, the more I get lost in her, in our closeness, the easier it is to forget who I am, and who I’m related to. It’s like my mind just ignores that part, pretends it doesn’t exist, and I’m all the happier for it. Knox and his psych textbooks would have a field day with my denial, I’m sure, but he’s a headcase, too, so he’s got no room to talk.
But aside from all that, I can’t go. I have plans next Thursday. They’re plans I’d rather not keep, but I have no choice. Once again, I have a scheduled meeting with lawyers. And, once again, my mom and Rob will be there. But this time, I can’t storm out. I’ve been subpoenaed as a potential character witness for Brett, and I need to make a statement.
Fuck my life.
I’m tired. I think back on all the books I’ve read, the characters who’ve lived double lives. Algernon Moncrief, Edmond Dantes, Henry Jekyll. I don’t know how they kept their shit together.
Spoiler alert: they really didn’t.
My professor continues her lecture on deconstructionism in literature, and normally, I’d be fascinated. But not today. Today, all of my thoughts gravitate toward Phoebe.
I have to tell her no, and yet…
