Page 40 of Friendshipped
“What if I have to review a restaurant?” I throw out there, knowing full well I’m shooting blanks.
Mom already won this, and I’ll end up doing what she’s arranged. I need to put up a bit of a struggle before I concede. She won’t relent until I capitulate. It’s easier to save my real refusals for something major—like when she tries to push me to propose to Meg in a few months, for example.
“I already thought of the possibility of you having to go to a restaurant for work,” Mom says.
Of course, she did.
“Of course, you did.”
“Trevor, I know that tone,” she says. “Anyway, I figured your job fits right in. You’re always taking Lexi out to those restaurants for your job. You could take Meg if you had one lined up.”
It’s almost like she raises her arms to the crowd in victory after her last statement. Game, Set, Match.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be the welcoming committee to my old friend, Meg on Friday.”
“Good. I’ll text you her contact information. And, Trevor,” Mom adds. “Girls can be more than friends, especially girls you dated for a year and a half in high school.”
“I’m well aware, Mom,” I say. “On that note, I’m going to get my run in so I’m not doing yard work in the heat of the day. I’ll see you tomorrow at church.”
“Love you, honey,” Mom says.
She does. And I love her so much. She’s an amazing woman despite her strong will, maybe even in part because of it.
“I love you too, Mom,” I say.
“I know,” she says with a smugness I can feel through the phone.
I chuckle as we hang up. My mom isn’t everyone’s favorite flavor, but this town would not be what it is without her. Maybe I wouldn’t either.
And now I have a date with Meg Abrams.
* * *
Lexi’s standing nextto the car Monday morning ready and waiting for our commute to work. She’s wearing a black skirt that flares out a bit by knees and a white lacy top. She’s got candy-apple-red lipstick on. And I can see it from across the lawn. I shut my front door, then stand still for an instant, taking her in. You’d think after years of seeing her in every state from disheveled to dressy, I’d be immune to any change in her appearance. I’m not.
Each day she impacts me like it’s the first day I’m seeing her. And when she puts in a little extra effort, I sometimes struggle to find my breath and keep my heartbeats from coming up through my throat. She’s overpowering and she doesn’t even know it.
I walk toward my car, half-eager and half-dreading what I’m about to hear concerning Lexi’s dates this weekend. I saw her at church Sunday morning, but we didn’t have any chance to talk alone.
Secretly, I’m hoping the dates were as bad or worse than Hanka Loompa. But, on the other hand, she’s not romantically interested in me, and I don’t want her to be a single old cat lady the rest of her life. Dogs, maybe.
Before we even get into the car, Lexi greets me by saying, “Okay! I’m totally not dating anymore!”
We open our doors, buckle, and I put the car in reverse.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You aren’t going to believe these two men,” she says, letting out a sigh and turning so her shoulder rests on the seat and she’s pivoted toward me.
Lexi pops the top off her coffee tumbler and takes a long sip. She closes her eyes and pulls her head back like she can’t even believe what she’s about to say.
“Trevor, where do men like this even come from?”
“I’m dying over here, Lex. Spill the details.”
“Okay,” she says with a big exhale.
She rearranges herself in her seat and squares off her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle.
