Page 40 of The Sweet Spot

“Swear to God, I was gonna text you, but it’s been so crazy…our roommate got kicked out—”

I listened to him ramble until it was my turn to order, when he insisted on paying for me. I had class, but we agreed to talk later. We’ve been hanging out ever since.

We’re attracted to each other, and we’ve kissed a few times, but Dallas doesn’t seem interested inactuallydating. And honestly, neither am I. For one thing, seeing Luca that night in Berkeley a few months ago made me realize how much I liked him, even if it’d been months and months since we’d hung out at the boardwalk. Until that fades maybe it’s better that I take Dally up on his offers of harmless, no-strings-attached shenanigans. We have fun together. It’s easy. And while Saira thinks our friends-with-benefits arrangement is a bad idea, we’re keeping things light. That’s what the college years are for, right?

“So, I think my dad’s going to try and visit during break,” I say, watching Dallas pack a bright green nugget of weed into his favorite bowl. We’re in his dorm now, lounging on his bunk.

“Really? That’s cool,” he says, his bright blue eyes lighting up. Dallas doesn’t know all the details, just that I’ve never met Arlo. “You excited?”

“Nervous,” I admit. “But excited, yeah.”

“Ah, it’s gonna be great, you’ll see.” He winks, slipping a lighter from his pants. “He’s lucky to have you for a kid. Here, you hit it first. To celebrate.”

Arlo texts later that night. I’m fresh out of the shower, still a little stoned from my smoke session with Dallas, when my phone beeps with a message.

Arlo: I’ll be there from 3/20 to 3/26.

Staying at the Surf City Beach Hotel.

Wren: Awesome choice! (thumbs up emoji)

Arlo: can’t wait!

I swallow, my heart skipping a beat.

Wren: me neither

* * *

Of course, because I’m not ready for this, the next two weeks speed by. Mom and I meet a couple of times to hash out Arlo’s visit—she tends to neurotically over-plan when she’s anxious and so do I—deciding we’ll invite him over to the apartment for dinner on his second night in Santa Cruz.

“That’ll give the two of you some time before he has to deal with me. And to, you know, recover from jet lag,” she says, whirling around the kitchen as she attempts a vegan shepherd’s pie. “Give him a chance to settle in.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Jumping up from my chair, I wrap my arms around her from behind and give her a good squeeze, startling a yelp from her. “Everything’s going to be fine. In fact…”

Letting go of her, I pluck up my phone, navigate to my music app, and put on one of our jams: Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds”.Mom sang it to me so much when I was little that I thought it was actually my song.

She laughs, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks. “You’re right, little bird, you’re right.”

We dance around the kitchen, Mom busting out her signature hippy-dippy moves, until the song ends. Nothing calms the soul like Bob, so I turn down the volume a bit and let the playlist run.

But after a while I start to feel like a phony, pretending I’m all hakuna matata when really, I’ve been battling feelings of uncertainty all week. I lean against the counter, watching my mother work as I look for the words to say what I’m feeling.

“Okay, I’m full of shit,” I blurt. “Totally and completely full of it.”

Mom glances back, furrowing her brow.

“I know you’re nervous about meeting Arlo. I am too, but for different reasons.” I suck in a deep breath, only to whoosh it all back out again. “He seems so interested in me now, but what if it turns out he liked me as a concept, this long, lost daughter deal, more than actual me? From what he’s told us, he doesn’t have any other kids. None that he’s raised. What if he’s romanticized things? What if having an actual relationship with me is underwhelming?”

My mother is silent for a while, carefully measuring spices and stirring her pot. When she does finally meet my eye, it’s with thoughtful determination. “I’m going to try really hard to be a friend right now and not your overprotective mother. Because as your mom, I would kick that man’s ass if he made you feel like anything less than what you are.”

Tears spring to my eyes. Damn, I love my mom, even when—maybe especially when—she’s channeling Mama Bear.

“But as your friend,” she says, taking my hands in hers, “I’d ask you to remember that he was the one who contacted you first. He didn’t have to do that. He’s a human being, and he was looking for connection, just like you are. The universe has brought the two of you together for a reason. I really believe that.” She pulls me into a hug. “You have much to offer, Wren. He is going to adore you.”

Wren

Acute, chubby hostess with winged eyeliner to die for meets me at the podium with a smile. I’ve always kinda envied girls who really knew how to do their makeup. “Hi! Welcome to Loni’s. Just one today?”

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