Page 19 of Barefoot Dreams
“Testosterone. You know, the male hormone.”
“And what makes you think I’m low in that department?”
Mom looks at me for a second, puckering her lips and then lifts her hand to start ticking off her fingers. “Where do I start?”
I stop her before she has a chance to get into her usual spew about lack of grandkids. “Let’s shorten the list for energy sakes.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “Your sheets.”
I blink. Okay, not what I was expecting. “My sheets?” I deadpan.
“Mm-hmm. They’ve been lonely.”
Did she just...? No. No, she did not. But oh yes, she did. Fucking hell, I need to get my own place.
I roll my tongue over my teeth. “I think I’m gonna go walk around the town.” Because if I stay I just might die. Or kill someone. And despite my twitching eye, I do love my mother.
“Really?” Mom’s whole posture changes as her eyes get that happy gleam in them. “Ooo, yay!” She jumps up, the tea sloshing over the cup and my eyes track down the drops to see if the acidic concoction will burn the place down. “Let me go get ready.”
“For what?” I asked, slowly.
“To go with you.”
If I could slap my own face right now, I would.
“Um…no, Mom, that’s quite all right. I think I can manage on my own.”
“Nonsense.” She waves me off. “You haven’t been home in sixteen years. What if you get lost?”
“Wow, I wonder how I’d manage that in all of two streets,” I mumble, heavy on the sarcasm but Mom doesn’t pay any attention to me. “Not to mention I’ve already been out.”
“Andrew!” She hollers loud enough for our neighbors to hear, and mind you, they live a good twenty feet away from us when Dad just rounds the corner, with the previously mentioned tray. Unbothered in the slightest.
“Yes, dear?” he asks calmly while my eye starts to get that twitch. Dad gives me a look that says,I told you to run right away,and you didn’t listen.
“Change of plans! Andrew, drop the tray.” And what do you know…he does. Dad literally drops the whole fucking tray at her command, but the cardboard cookies don’t lose so much as a crumb in a process. “We are going out with Griffin.”
“Okay, I’ll go get changed.”
I should’ve introduced my mom to my Captain. He could’ve used her training skill set, I tell you.
A knock at the door interrupts my next sentence. I don’t like to open the doors here because half the town seems to come by to get a look at me these days, but it looks inevitable right now since I’m literally a step away from the door.
I hate this day. I hate this week. This month. This year.
I hate the past thirty years or so but it’s neither here nor there, so I sigh and open the door, a snarky retort prepped and ready right on the tip of my tongue but it dies a quick death when I find long waves of red hair, thousands of freckles, two green pools, and a beaming smile on our front step.
Julie.
There’s Julie standing before me, looking as radiant as always, her bare toes peeking from underneath her long boho-looking skirt—or is it pants?—as she rocks on her heels while holding a bright yellow, ceramic pot in her hands.
“Hi,” her melodic voice says.
Two fucking letters from my best friend’s sister and my throat is dry, my heart in pre-cardiac arrest and my legs are two useless noodles.
“Hi,” comes a whole lot gruffer than I intended it. I clear my throat. “Hey, what are you doing here?” The next second I feel a sting over my arm and find my mother giving me her best evil eye, murmuring, “Manners, Griffin,” before she smiles wide at Julie over my shoulder.
“Hi, sweetie, come on in, come on in. Let’s not have you stand there like a stranger.” Mom waves Julie in, who thanks her and takes a step inside.
