Between Us

chapter eight

08

Another week comes and goes, and before I know it Thanksgiving break has arrived.

So you'd think that I'd get to lay in bed all day, pantless, watching Netflix and eating from my stash of chips and candy, right?

Wrong.

My mother has other plans. Plans that don't include staying in bed in my underwear and t-shirt, watching shows and eating shit I shouldn't. Plans that include sending me on a shopping spree with Liam Evans so I don't buy more than what she put on the list for Thanksgiving dinner.

So that leads to me now, sitting in the shopping cart wearing jeans and a hoodie, Liam steering, different foods surrounding me. What? I got tired of walking.

"What's next?" He asks, tossing a bag with broccoli in it at me. I knock it down into my lap.

I look at the notepad with the grocery list taking up three pages. "Two cans of pumpkin," I say, wrinkling my nose with distaste.

Liam laughs as he pushes me and the cart onto the right aisle. "What's that face for?"

"I hate pumpkins. Everything about them. They smell weird and taste like shit," I tell with a shudder. "But pumpkin bread is awesome."

"So you don't hate pumpkins?"

I turn around to look up at him. "Um, I do hate pumpkins."

"But you like pumpkin bread."

I shrug. "I hate fish, but I love fish sticks. I have my issues, so bite me."

"Maybe I will," he teases, pushing me and the cart onto the aisle with the pumpkin. He grabs the cans from the bottom shelf and puts them next to me. "So you know that apartment I told you about at the wedding?"

I nod, scratching pumpkin of the list with a purple inked pen. "Yeah, I remember. Why?" I ask. "Pecans are next."

Liam turns the cart into the main aisle, trying not to bump into other people. "I got it. I'm moving in Friday," he tells me. He grabs a couple bags of pecans and drops them onto my lap.

I smile. "Congrats!"

"Thanks," Liam says, smiling back at me. "You know, I could use some help with the move."

I slap a hand over my chest. "I'd be honored."

* * *

"We're back, mother!" I call, holding at least five grocery bags on each arm. Liam has the rest and kicks the front door shut with his heel.

Mom makes her appearance, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She puts a hand on her hip and raises her eyebrows. "Call me mother again," she challenges.

I roll my eyes and brush past her into the kitchen. "Calm down. You're too serious," I say, lugging the bags onto the granite countertops. I push my hoodie sleeves up and begin to put things away.

She rolls her eyes and pulls the contents out of a bag. Mom chooses to ignore what I just said and change the topic. "Are you going to make the pies today?"

I sigh in exasperation. I've only told her about a thousand times that I am. "Yes, mother, I'm making the pies," I say.

Mom chooses to also ignore the fact that I called her 'mother' again. Liam breaks the silence. "You're still into baking?"