Page 65 of The Tenth Circle
Archer wiggles in his seat, seeming more nervous than I am.
I don’t like it. Not with how much he’s always right about everything.
With a bit of memory searching, my thoughts land on the only secret she can be referring to. Involving a secret boyfriend. It’s not a big deal, I never met the guy. Which means it’s not serious and Mom isn’t breaking her promise. Me, her, and Auntie always.
No spicy meatballs ever coming between us.
But I’m not stupid. She’s human. So it makes sense she’s been seeking companionship. Also makes sense she’d want to let me in on it in case I end up bumping into the guy on the street or whatever.
“It’s fine, Mom.”
Her eyebrows wrinkle. “What’s fine?”
“That you’ve been hanging with someone.”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, the chances of her passing out seeming a lot more likely.
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew. Nina is married, doubt she’s willing to ‘go for drinks’ almost every weekend.”
Guilt washes over every beautiful feature of her face. “I’m so sorry, Hen.”
Did it annoy me a bit she didn’t tell me? Yeah.
Was I gonna push while avoiding being pushed? Fuck no.
Whoever he is kept her off my back a lot this year.
“All good,mia madre. Everyone’s gotta get it in sometimes.”
Archer nearly spits out the orange juice he poured himself.
Mom tilts her head. “Getwhatin, exactly?”
I use my pointer as a guide into a finger circle. Symbolizing…well…doubt I need to explain to anyone but her.
Mom’s eyeballs turn to saucers. “Hendrix Zinnia!”
Archer chuckles. “She middle-named you, bruh. You’re cooked.”
“What? Really? Like I don’t know you have casual sex?”
Mom shakes her head, ridding the thought of her eighteen year old daughter knowing about such things.
Which is ironic since she spent the majority of my birthday singing the birds and bees over cake.
“I am not…” She inhales a breath. “I am not having…sex. Nor this conversation with you.”
“Okay? So what conversationarewe having?”
With a shimmy to her shoulders, Mom lifts her chin. “You are right. I have been seeing someone. But it’s not necessarily…”
“Serious?” I question, trying to calm a sudden wave of nerves.
“...casual.”
Aaannd I’m drowning.
