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Tonight is lame without Jagger. I have no idea why he can’t hang out, he never blows us off for a girl before dark. Jagger’s kind of fun requires very little clothing and dimly lit corners, or in his case, really, any couch, beanbag or recliner in the middle of the living room surrounded by drunk people partying.
Marc’s going on and on about some girl he likes but he lost me about the time I realized he was talking about a girl he’s never even said a word to. Since we basically have to whisper it’s no fun at my house. My parents work nights and sleep all day so I’m willing to bet the guys think I’m an orphan.
“What do you think Jagger’s doing tonight?” Brewski asks.
“Or who?”
Marc is probably right, no doubt wherever he is it will end with some chick in his bed. I’m lucky if I can get a word out around a pretty girl. When I talked myself into actually speaking to Elli she must have thought I was crazy, I was a completely different person. Now I’m positive we’re in the past, even my thoughts are past tense. There’s no way I’m ever getting her back. Me or my alternate personality. I feel like a screwup for blowing it.
Mom pokes her head out an hour or so later and I realize I’ve been thinking about Elli for so long that the guys aren’t even playing the same game.
“Hi boys, staying for dinner?” She’s unusually energetic before a night spent wiping old people’s asses for little money. I guess she has it better than Dad, who’s riding a desk, monitoring any movement on a tiny screen at the county jail.
“Yeah Mrs. Morley, if it’s ok,” Marc says, managing to look away from the TV for five seconds to actually make eye contact with my mother.
“What are we having?” Brewski laughs. He thinks about food all the time and if he’s not eating it’s because he’s saving room for more beer. He doesn’t discriminate though, he will eat or drink anything that is put in front of him, I don’t know why he bothers to ask. He doesn’t look at my mom, not since the time she walked in on him in our only bathroom.
“I hope you’re hungry. I’m making a feast.”
I flinch. I know how tight money has been lately and the last thing we need is Brewski’s fat ass eating enough groceries to last a week. Marc won’t eat more than his share but you can’t separate Brewski from a plate of meat and potatoes.
“You don’t need to do that, Mom. We’ll just get a pizza, I’ve got a couple bucks.”
Knowing where I’m heading with this she shakes her head before I even finish speaking.
“Eric, it’s fine.” That’s all she says, so quietly that I immediately shut up.
Something’s going on but no one will tell me anything. My friends make me feel like an idiot for worrying but I can’t shake the feeling. Even Jagger, who’s the only one I normally talk to, thinks I’m overreacting. I wish I could call Elli, she knows how to make me feel better because she’s already been through everything you can imagine with her mom. She’d know exactly what to say. I’m grateful neither of my parents are anything like hers, in fact, they might as well be from different planets.
“So,” Dad says the minute he sits down to a plate of meatloaf, “anyone got a girlfriend?”
“Dad!”
“Still haven’t patched things up with Elli? What are you waiting for?”
Shit! I turn bright red immediately. There’s a reason I don’t tell them as much as I used to. Unfortunately, Mom reads over the phone bill like a regular person does a credit card statement. She knows that I used to spend most nights talking to Elli only to not speak a word to her the next day at school.
“Marc’s got his eye on a girl,” Brewski blurts out, finally taking the heat off me. They all turn their stares to Marc and not a second too soon. I don’t think I could take it anymore. I still have no idea who the unlucky girl is but I don’t think I’d be able to handle Marc blowing us off too. What would Brewski and I do? Probably play some video game violent enough that we didn’t have to speak.
“I got the dishes.”
“Go play with your friends, I’ll get the dishes,” Mom says.
“Mom, we’re 17. Do you see a sandbox?” I laugh.
She knows I’m kidding and elbows me in the ribs when she takes my plate. “What do you call it when you’re sitting in front of the TV for hours, playing video games? On the PlayStation. See, it’s even in the name.”
I laugh because she’s got a point.
Before I know it she’s washing and I’m drying and we’re having what must be our millionth conversation about Elli. I feel like a loser talking to my mom about this, especially while my dad entertains my friends in the next room. Why can’t I just tell Elli the things I tell my mother about her? Mom knows every detail and on the rare occasion Dad isn’t there to witness it, he hears about it secondhand from her, I know because he always asks about things I know I didn’t tell him.
“Just tell her you’re sorry, Eric. I bet she still likes you too.”
“She doesn’t,” I whisper.
“Eric, you don’t talk on the phone until all hours with just any guy. Ask your dad, that’s exactly what we did when we were your age. Then we had you, don’t make that mistake.”
“So now I’m a mistake?” I laugh.
“The biggest. You know how much I wanted a girl,” she chuckles. “Elli would be lucky to have you back.”
The phone in my pocket acts as a tiny torture device because all I can think about is taking my mom’s advice and just calling her. Would she be flattered or think I was insane for randomly calling? Has she even forgiven me for the idiotic things I said when I didn’t know she was listening? It’s been weeks but I still replay that conversation over in my mind, wishing I could have done things differently. I would have told her how I really felt, how I couldn’t stop thinking about her and that I didn’t care what my friends thought. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on her face when the words came out of my mouth. I’m such an idiot. I can’t get the girl out of my head even though she probably thinks I hate her.
I can’t even pretend to focus on my homework after the guys leave. As it is most days, I’m up hours after I want to be in bed trying to finish up work for one class or another. Besides sports, it takes up most of my time. Schoolwork be damned, there’s no getting my mind off Elli Matthews.