Page 4 of DILF

“You didn’t call?”

“Charlie and her dad came to help. No worries,” I say. “Wow, everything’s gone.”

He looks around and shakes his head, slowly, as if he’s just realizing it, too. “Most of it, yeah.”

“Hi, honey,” Mom chirps from behind me, and I turn.

“Hey, Mom.” We hug, and then I take her in. My mom is dressed in perfectly pressed khaki pants, a mauve-colored cardigan twin-set, and Keds. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her face beautifully made up. Not exactly moving attire. But that’s my mother. She’s pretty conservative when it comes to her looks and views, and very old-fashioned from her ideals to her taste in furniture, clothes, and fun. But she’s also the best. I’ve never, ever, questioned her love for me. All she’s ever done is dote on me and spoil me. In her eyes, I can do no wrong. And I love that, but it was also a lot to live up to. So while we might dress differently, I’ve also never wanted to disappoint her.

“So where do I start?” I ask, as I drop my small bag by my bedroom door.

“As you know, your mother and I leave on Sunday. That means you have two days to clear out as many things as possible. Everything you don’t need we’ll pack it into the U-Haul or drag it off to the dump.” Even though I don’t live with my parents any more, they made sure their new house in Florida had a room for me, and will be buying new furniture when they move down. My room here still has my full-sized bed, but the new owners requested it and a few other pieces to stay, and since we didn’t care it’s one less thing to pack. All my accumulated bedroom knick-knacks and memorabilia, things that I can’t fit in my dorm, will go down with them to Florida in the U-Haul. I’ll try to take as many clothes back to school as possible and send the rest with them.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone for two weeks?” My spring break is two-weeks long, and I thought after packing up this weekend I’d hang out with Charlie for those two weeks, since they’d be gone. They’ve been worried senseless about this for months. But I’m not.

“Mom, I’ll be fine. I have a lot of studying to do,” I say, thinking about chemistry. “And, Dad, I’ll start on the packing right away.”

They both leave me to sort through my room as they finish loading up the truck.

It’s nine o’clock when I hear a knock on my window, which scares the shit out of me.

“Open up, Lilybear.”

“Holy shit, Charlie. You’re too old for the window. Why didn’t you come through the front door or call me?”

“Nostalgia,” she says, hauling one leg, then the other, through the window. Thank God the trellis against the house is sturdy—it’s a long way down, I think as I close my window and sit back on the bed.

“God, this brings back memories,” she says.

“It does.”

“What do you need? Where can I start?” She sits down on the floor, cross-legged, and ready to work. I push a big box toward her.

“Here, go through that. No idea what’s in there.”

She starts rummaging through the box as I neatly fold some of my clothes into another box.

“Oh my God! Oh my God,” she squeals. “It’s our old yearbooks.”

“Relax there, Charlie,” I laugh at her excitement. “It’s only been a few months since we graduated.”

“No, silly. The ones from elementary and middle school.” She opens them up. “Oh my gosh. We look terrible. How’d we ever think those bangs worked?” She goes through it page by page. We stay up all night going through the entire box of yearbooks and packing almost nothing, since Charlie stops every few minutes to text Randy. Nevertheless, it’s the best night I’ve had in a long time. Also, it makes me realize that by not living here anymore, I won’t see Charlie very much, and that makes me unbelievably sad.

The next morning, Charlie’s foot is on my face as I open an eye. I look down the bed, and she’s fast asleep opposite me. Moving her leg away, I carefully get out of bed, do my morning routine, and go downstairs.

“Hi, Mom,” I say and kiss her cheek.

“Hi, honey. You two were giggling up a storm last night. Have fun?”

“We did. We went through yearbooks and pictures until we passed out. I’m going to miss her.”

“You’re still pretty close by, at least for the next four years. You’ll visit each other.”

“I know, but still. It’s not the same.”

She gives me a reassuring smile and moves to the coffee pot to pour me a cup. There’s a knock at the door, but it’s not even nine, so my mom and I look at each other questioningly.

I pad to the door and look through the peep hole. “Oh, it’s just Mr. Edwards. He’s probably looking for Charlotte,” I holler to my mom as I open the door.

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