"Well, you'dthinkhe'd want to meet me."
No. He wouldn't.If Flynn hatedme, I could only imagine how he felt about Gordon and my mom. After all, they'd played a much bigger role in his incarceration than I ever had.
Plus, there was the little matter of my mom getting paid for that awful interview, the one where she'd let reporters into the apartment.
Yes, Flynnhadbeen right. I knew this, because when I'd asked my mom about it, she'd mumbled something about the reporters reimbursing her for – in her words – expenses.
Like what? The coffee?
Good grief.
When I made no reply, my mom gave a sad little sigh. "I'm just saying, if you two are serious—"
"We're not."
"But you're living together."
"So?"
"So it just seems like you'd have me over for dinner or something."
I couldn't even imagine. "I think it's a little soon for that."
"But why?" she asked.
Didn't she get it?"Youdoremember all that trouble, don't you?"
"What trouble?"
"You know. Back in high school? I mean, Flynn did end up spending a year in juvie."
"It wasn't a year," she said. "It was barely ten months."
Until that moment, I hadn't even realized she'd been counting. I replied, "Well, itwasalmost all of the school year."
His senior year.
I hated that.
"So about lunch," she said, "is that a yes?"
I sighed. I didn't know why I bothered. She'd never understand, and I was done trying to explain.
In the end, wedidend up going to lunch, and to the steak place too, where things went from bad to worse.
