Page 16 of Love in the Stacks
We’re finishing up the last few baubles when I check my phone. I have a text from an unknown 239 area code. I open it and see an image of a one-panel cartoon. In it, a woman sits in the center seaton an airplane reading a book with the titleStabbing Strangers Who Talk to Youwhile her seatmates stare forward with wide eyes. The caption says:
“Wendy gets privacy by creating her own book covers.”
The message attached reads:
“Hope you had a quiet flight! -Adam”
I laugh to myself, shaking my head. Then, still holding my phone, I tune back in to my family’s chatter in time to catch the tail end of my mom’s comment as I type a quick reply and save the number in my contacts.
“...pack up your ornaments for your own households,” she’s saying. “Before long, we might have some new young men and maybe even grandchildren in the family.”
Olivia scoffs. “Don’t get too excited, Mom,” she says. “Molly hasn’t been on a date in years, or even talked to anyone outside of her lab—”
“Hey!” protests Molly, but she’s laughing.
“...I’m not even out of college yet, and Nicole—”
Molly cuts in again, smirking at me from across the room. “Nicole,” she intercepts, “is smiling dreamily at something on her phone, so maybe there’s hope after all, Mom.”
I drop my phone onto the table. “What!” I sputter. “I’m not staring dreamily at anything. It was just a funny text, that’s all.”
“From who?” asks Olivia.
“Just a coworker.”
Dad clears his throat. “A male coworker?” he asks.
The traitor. I feel my cheeks flush.
“Yes, this coworker happens to be a man,” I say.
“A young man?” Mom asks, her eyes gleaming.
“Youngish,” I hedge.
“Texting you at,” Molly checks her watch, “eleven at night when the library is closed for the break?”
I don’t correct her that it’s actually already midnight in Florida.
I sigh heavily and frown. “You are all being ridiculous. Adam is my coworker, and he gave me a ride to the airport today after—” I ignore the clamor of voicesthatrevelation elicits and talk louder, “AFTER my airport shuttle canceled last minute. I paid him gas money.” No, I didn’t. “And he was simply texting to make sure my flight went smoothly. As polite coworkers do.”
I survey the faces of my family members. My mom looks gleeful, with Molly’s expression only a slightly toned-down copy. Dad’s eyebrows are raised in interest, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Olivia looks smug.
Mom speaks first. “Well,” she clucks. “Adam sounds like a gentleman. How old did you say he is?”
I send a syrupy smile in her direction. “I didn’t,” I say sweetly. “And I’ve had a long day of work and travel and decorating, so I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, okay,” Mom relents. “We’ll leave you alone.” She envelopes me in a hug. “Goodnight, my darling. Welcome home.”
The next morning my parents are out playing pickleball with some friends. Olivia and I are eating breakfast when Molly walks into the kitchen. She’s still in her pajamas, her brown hair mussed and her blue eyes blinking sleepily behind her round-rimmed glasses. Of the three of us, Molly is the one who looks most like Mom—petite like her with the same oval face.
As Molly sits to join us, my phone pings. It’s Adam. Hiding my phone under the table, I open the message. Another meme. This one is a picture of hamburgers and hotdogs cooking on a charcoal grill with the caption:
“Eating two burgers in a restaurant: greedy, people are shocked. Eating two burgers at a BBQ: ‘Is that all you’re having?! Here, have a sausage!”
I swallow my laugh and settle for pressing the “laugh” reaction button on the message.
Nicole:
