Page 43 of Absorbed

“Aren’t you going out?” There was a hesitation in her mom’s voice.

“Not ‘til eight, and we’re only hanging out.”

“It’ll be about twenty minutes,” Greg said over his shoulder.

“Cool. I’ll be quick,” Stacey said, turning to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye, Stacey watched Greg lean down toward her mom. “There’s plenty,” she thought she heard Greg say before he kissed her mom quickly on the lips.

Stacey’s ears burned and she cringed.Now I’m my mom’s third wheel?

She took her clothes into the bathroom, began to undress, and then locked the door. Greg seemed nice, but it was strange showering with a man in the house.

She re-entered the living room with her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing her Nirvana T-shirt and too-big boxer shorts. The stereo was tuned to smooth jazz. Stacey slowed to survey the scene. The small kitchen table was set for three with placemats,lit candles, dinner and salad plates. The bottle of wine and a basket of sliced bread completed the restaurant ambiance.

TheTwilight Zoneintro echoed through Stacey’s mind.She grinned, remembering Gabe repeating that eerie opening to her dozens of times.Was the last time at the concert, only a week ago?Since the summer after eighth grade–when they rented videos and marathon-watched every episode they could get their hands on–Gabe had recited those lines to her hundreds of times. She suddenly wanted nothing more than a night watching movies with Gabe.

Not Gabe. Jessie. You have a date with Jessie.

Stacey silently observed her mom and Greg at the stove, their backs turned, standing hip to hip. Her mom’s head was leaned against Greg’s shoulder, his left arm around her waist. They swayed in rhythm with the melody on the stereo. Stacey felt her face flush and she looked away. She wished she had offered to go get herself fast food. She took the towel off her head and set it on the arm of the couch, running her fingers through her hair before turning back toward the kitchen.

“Need me to do anything?” she asked loudly, hoping to avoid witnessing another kiss if she could.

“We’re almost ready,” Greg said over his shoulder. He moved his hand from her mom’s hip to the pot handle in front of him. “Can you grab the butter, parmesan, salt, and pepper for the table, please?”

Stacey plunked the items down and slumped into her chair, watching her mom and Greg’s synchronized movements. Murphy ducked under the table and curled into the space by her feet. Stacey grabbed a piece of bread and buttered it, taking her first bite before either of them sat. Greg pulled his napkin across his lap and began scooping the pasta dish onto each of their plates.

Stacey’s mom served herself salad, then passed the bowl to Greg. Her smile lit her face with a peaceful glow, so foreign that she was almost unrecognizable. Her mousy blonde hair fell in soft, natural waves at her shoulders, and the creases in the corners of her eyes offered only sincere joy. Stacey couldn’t pinpoint what it was about this guy, but she was grateful her mom wasn’t in another pissy mood.

Stacey tucked her feet under Murphy’s soft fur, and turned her attention to Greg. “So, what do you do, Greg?”

“I’m an electrician.”

“That’s cool.” Stacey speared a forkful of salad and shoved it in her mouth.

“He’s being modest,” her mom said, placing her hand on Greg’s. “He owns his own business. Does electrical work all over the Inland Empire.”

Stacey lifted her eyebrows and nodded while chewing.

“Your mom tells me you’re a senior,” he said.

Stacey put another large bite in her mouth and continued nodding, adding an “Um, hmm,” to be polite, while looking down at her plate.Please, not another night like dad’s house.

“She’s a straight A student. Top of her class. Debate club president.”

Stacey swallowed too soon and pulled her lips into a thin line. Her mom hadn’t taken a bite, intent on swooning over each of them, as if this was a job interview. Stacey left her fork on the edge of her plate and sat on her hands.

“She also said you’ve been lifeguarding this summer at the Seventh street pool.” Greg cut his chicken without scratching the plate, and carefully balanced his knife on the edge before switching hands, the way Stacey’s stepmom, Jackie, always insisted she ought to.

Stacey nodded.

“Sounds like you’re a very mature and responsible person. I can see why your mom is so proud of you.”

Stacey smiled shyly at her mom. “Thank you.”

Her mom picked up her fork and knife and began carefully cutting her chicken into a dainty bite. Stacey followed suit. Her mom let out a groan of satisfaction, and Stacey rolled her eyes. Trying the chicken cacciatore for herself, though, she agreed with the enthusiasm. Even still, she would never dare make that noise in front of a guy her mom was dating, and wished her mom wouldn’t either.

“This is really good, Greg,” Stacey said before swallowing, then shoveled a much larger bite into her mouth.

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