One of the Guys

Chapter Two

"Babe, you need to eat something," my mother told me as I rushed around the kitchen to gather my things for school.

"I don't have time," I told her, matter-of-factly. "I have to order an Uber now if I'm going to make it before first bell."

"What about your car?" my mother asked for--I promise--the fourth time since last night.

"Shop, mom." I rolled my eyes at her. "Remember? Dad brought it last night?"

"Right. Have you seen Kate?"

"She's straightening her hair...again," I responded about my little sister.

"Didn't she straighten her hair yesterday before school too?" I hoped that was a rhetorical question because I had no plan on answering it.

I looked at the time on the microwave. 7:34. "Shit!" slipped out of my mouth.

"Language," my dad policed as he hurried into the kitchen with us. He sounded more amused than angry.

He was in more of a hurry than I was. My mother and I both watched him rush across the kitchen to the table, pick up a waffle, take a bite, take the glass of orange juice out of my mom's hand, drink it, hand it back to her, take another bite of his waffle, kiss my mom on the cheek, and kiss me on the top of my head--all within 45 seconds.

"Meeting. Late. Have to run. Car's in shop. Find a ride. Love you both. See you later."

My mother cleared her throat just before my father could escape. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

An evident wave of panic washed over my father's face. "What's today's date?" he whisper-asked me. "Quick!"

"Uhh, the 9th?" I answered.

"Birthday, mother's day, anniversary, nope. I'm not forgetting anything."

"No babe," my mom smiled and reached for something beside her. "Just your keys."

As my father walked back toward my mother to retrieve his keys, the doorbell rang. Since neither of them made a move to respond to the bell, I said "I guess I'll get it."

"Thanks, kiddo!" My dad said as he held out his hand to take the keys.

I hurried over to the door, completely uninterested in whichever salesperson or girl scout or canvasser was standing at my door at a notoriously inconvenient time to bother families. The person standing at the door was probably the last person in the world I had been expecting.

"Hey. You ready to go to school?" Lucas asked.

Just then my father slid by me and Lucas without stopping. "Sorry coming through. Very late for meeting. Hey, buddy."

That last part was directed toward Lucas, the son he never had. "Hey!" Lucas shouted toward our driveway, where my dad was already entering his car.

"Assuming you don't already have a ride, of course."

I looked past Lucas' shoulder. My dad was backing out of the driveway now. My mother worked from home and always had her first international call at 8 AM sharp. So no. I did not already have a ride.

"I don't," I told him. "So that would be awesome. Thank you so much."

"Lucas?" My mother called from inside of the kitchen.

Lucas looked past me, into the home he had learned to read in, and chuckled. "Hope?"

I heard my mother's excited footsteps approach us at the doorway. "I thought I heard your voice." She paused. "You look so..."