When I was about to go to the gym, my mom was using the speakerphone Phone. I was trying to find a sports bra to wear but it was all dirty so I had to pick one out of the laundry basket and spray it with deodorant. She’s complaining that none of the jeans fit her recent order. I told her she should have made it to them, but she wouldn’t be bothered. The conversation paused, and I knew what she was going to say—I could feel it tingling in the air between us.
“So, did the guy mention anything else about his Halloween party?”
“not yet.”
“He’s quiet again?”
“Not quiet, but…”
“You think he’s worried that you’ll meet his friends?”
I shaved my hair into the tightest bun I could manage.
I know she’s just worried about me, but I don’t
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More importantly: Mom is not judging me
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Bulgari brings Ritz and glitz to New York City to celebrate Years in America
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“Okay, I’ll tell you,” I said, a smile forming on the corners of my mouth. “But you have to promise that it won’t be brought up unless I bring it up first?”
“I promise,” she said.
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