Wednesday, March 13 – 5:30 PM
Maria
Owen’s phone beeps again, and he sighs in frustration and shuts it off.
“Damn it, stop texting me already!” he mutters, shaking his head. I pause the movie and put my arm around him.
“Was that your mom again?”
“Yep. Exact same thing over and over,” he answers angrily. “Why aren’t you coming home? When are you coming down? We miss you! So much work to do around the house and your father’s getting too old to do it all!”
I grit my teeth as he throws the phone across the room, and it lands with a thud on the carpet near the front door. I’ve never seen him this angry before, and it’s a little frightening.
“She knows why I don’t come home,” he whispers sadly.
My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket and I nearly leap off the sofa in surprise. Now my mother is calling me? Are both of our parents conspiring to make this night as miserable as they can?
“Hello?” I ask, waiting to hear her thick Jersey accent. I consider it a miracle that I didn’t inherit her voice.
“Hey there, sweetie!” she calls out cheerfully. “How are you?”
“Um... good, how are you?” I answer. I quickly grab a pen, scribble a note on my napkin, and pass it to Owen.
“My mother.”
He grimaces and flashes me a thumbs-down.
“Doing great, honey. Your father and I want to know when your spring vacation is. You coming down?”
“It’s in three days,” I answer quietly. “I can’t come down again, though. I’m still working in the research lab and don’t get the time off.”
“Seriously? They’re still working you like that?”
“Yeah, it sucks,” I lie. I love lab work. I wouldn't be a biologist if I didn't.
“Okay, well what about graduation? They’re letting you off for that, right?”
“I hope so. It’s in May, I think—I’ll get you the dates.”
“Soon, please. Your father’s got a business trip coming up, and he’s gotta make plans, you know.”
“I will. I promise,” I answer with all the cheerfulness I can muster. I wish I could just take my diploma and run for it, but there’s no way I’m getting out of seeing them at graduation.
“Speakerphone ahoy,” I scribble on the napkin. “Don’t laugh.”
“We really miss you, honey,” calls out my mom over speakerphone as I push the button, and Owen nearly loses it at her accent.
“She sounds like she’s on The Sopranos,” he whispers, trying not to burst out laughing.
“I miss you too, mom,” I answer. It’s not really true anymore, though. I used to miss her a lot, but then... well, I’m on my own now. I have to be.
“Micah misses you,” she says, and my stomach rises into my chest. “He says you never call him.”
I don’t know what to say to her. I barely talked to my brother after that nightmarish visit because every time I did, I had to relive it all over again.
“He wants to know why you never call him. You should really call him, you know?”
“I know. I’m just so busy these days,” I respond, picking the first excuse that comes to mind.
“You be a good girl and call him, okay?” my mother tells me, and I don’t answer.
Owen strokes a hand softly through my hair and then down my back. I feel myself tense up at his touch, but then I finally relax again. I love being with him and I’m proud of myself for letting him into my life. I never imagined I’d ever have a boyfriend, and somehow I ended up with the best one ever.
“I have to go. I’ll get you those graduation dates.”
“Love you sweetie!” calls out my mother as I disconnect the call.
Would she still love me if she knew what happened to me, or would she treat me like she did that woman on the news when I first tried to tell her what happened? I was too scared then to find out, and now it’s too late.
I kiss Owen on the cheek and snuggle up on his lap. As I’m about to unpause the movie, his stomach grumbles loudly right next to my ear.
“Skipped lunch, huh?”
“Yeah,” he answers just as his stomach growls again, this time even louder.
“I dunno,” I tease. “It’s telling me breakfast too, now!”
He nods, looking embarrassed.
“Wait, seriously?”
I was just trying to make a stupid joke.
“Yeah... I didn’t have breakfast either.”
I stare at him for a second, wishing I could read his mind so I didn’t have to dig for answers like this.
“Owen... when was the last time you ate?”
“Snacks and cocoa with you on Sunday,” he responds quietly, and I gasp and cover my mouth.
“Owen!”
I’m up from the sofa in a flash, grab him by the arm, and drag him behind me into the kitchen.
“I’m okay, Maria!” he protests, but I don’t believe him. Nobody goes two days without food unless there’s something wrong.
“You get yourself into that fridge and find yourself something to eat,” I order, pointing imperiously at the refrigerator door. “Why on earth would you do that to yourself?”
“Because I have no money!” he yells at me, and I stop dead in my tracks.
I stare silently back at him with my mouth open. This is the first time he’s yelled at me or shown any kind of anger toward me at all, and I feel myself instinctively retreat inside my shell.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hugging me tightly as he sees the upset look on my face. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“Why didn’t you eat anything?” I ask, not looking up at him. I’m still hurt, apology or not.
“My parents paid the bill for my broken hand out of my bank account,” he says, his voice cracking under pressure. “I had barely enough for rent and nothing left after that.”
“That was almost two weeks ago!”
“I know. I’ve been stealing Craig’s leftovers when I can,” he explains as I stare at him in horror. “I get paid in two days, and then I’m okay again.”
“Will you be, or are you just telling me that to keep me from worrying about you?”
“I... well, as long as nothing else happens, I should be good.”
I stare at him, take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” I tell him. “You’re going to come over here for dinner every night. Dinner’s on me. You just help me cook, okay?”
“I can’t do that to you! You shouldn’t have to...”
I steal one of Tina’s old favorites and pretend I’m zipping his mouth shut. It’s so satisfying to finally be the one using it.
“No. I’m not letting you go hungry. Besides, I’d love your company.”
“Are you sure?”
His face is red with embarrassment and shame, and I wish I could just grab a sponge and wipe it all away. Instead, I give him the warmest, most sincere smile I can.
“I’m totally sure. Really,” I answer, and I pull him close to me and hug him tightly.
I release him and head to the fridge to find him something to eat.
“Maria?”
“Yeah?”
The moment I turn back to him, his arms are around me and his head presses into my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you so much. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”
I could just melt into a puddle right here in the kitchen. He sounds so relieved and grateful over something so simple and small that anyone would do it for a friend. How could I possibly let him go hungry?
“You’d do it for me if I needed it,” I whisper, and I wink at him as I squeeze him back. “Now go make yourself a sandwich already.”