I woke up to that thing my mom always does that drives me crazy, where she leans in really close so her sticky, lipstick lips are right up on my ear and I can feel her breath all hot and sweaty when she talks. “Good morning pumpkin. It’s time to start the day,” she whispered brightly.
I wanted to smack her away, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Even though she woke me up for the exciting task of graduation party shopping. I wasn’t really sure why I had to be there to pick out the paper plates.
My mom had been on top of the ballgame with the graduation party stuff. When the calendar had gone up in the senior hallway allowing people to write their party dates in so they wouldn’t clash with their friends, she’d come in herself and been the first one to write it down. The location had been booked since my sister graduated two years before, and the party was literally two days after graduation.
I rolled over to my stomach, surreptitiously trying to rid my ear of the sweaty breathed on feeling that now refused to go away. “Come on sleepyhead, I know you had a big night, but now it’s time to have a big day,” she urged. My mom was a sweet woman, she really was. But sometimes she was just such a mom, I couldn’t even deal with her.
“Mom…” I grumbled in protest. I wasn’t even sure I could open my eyes. It was that kind of crusty glued-shut thing that happens sometimes. I felt it would be practically impossible to open my eyes until I had gotten a proper amount of sleep. My body was clearly just trying to ensure that this happened. I’d gotten back from the beach with Arvid so late and it was very probably the crack of dawn now – my mother often rivaled the birds – but of course, I could not use this as an excuse, because she did not know I had been to the beach with Arvid.
Then this funny thing happened where I realized I had been to the beach with Arvid and, subsequently, my eyes shot open, surprising me even more than my mom.
Holy Camoly. That happened.
Begrudgingly, I rolled out of bed. My mom clapped her hands together and said, “Well, why don’t you get ready then, and I’ll get some breakfast for you.” She smiled that bright, Mom type smile, and I dragged my feet into the shower.
The hot water brought clarity to my muddled head, and then this deep, sinking dread.
Again, I realized I had not gotten her number. Nor her email address. Nor her last name.
There would be no next time.
I groaned and shut the water off with soap still in my hair as though by waking me up enough to realize this, it was the shower’s fault I had neglected to attain contact information. I turned the water back on long enough to get the rest of the shampoo out and then reached for a towel to wrap around my waist. The mirror had fogged up so I leaned over the counter and cleared a spot out with my elbow.
Why had she talked to me anyway, I wondered. I guess I wasn’t bad looking really, but I certainly wasn’t cool. At all. That’s probably why I’d never known who she was before. She defined cool, at least in my uniformed, outsider opinion.
I wasn’t even nerdy really. Just awkward.
And she was the sort of girl that makes awkward guys stay awkward. Because she was kind of perfect. No wonder I didn’t get her number.
I narrowed my eyes at my reflection, imagining I could still feel the back of her hand against my stomach and her fingers wrapped around my hand. Other than that, we had not touched, and that was all the better, because she was still a mystery, and mysteries have class.
Downstairs, my mom had toast on the table. She sat across from me and watched me while I ate, drumming her fingers against a glass of orange juice with this proud, slightly sad smile.
