Page 6 of Your Pucking Mom

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” my best friend, Emma, crooned down the line.

“I’m about to get my period,” I bellowed, throwing more underwear to the floor and desperately searching through my drawer. Why did I have so many goddamn pairs of panties?

“So? What does that mean?” Emma asked from the other line.

I whipped around to where I’d propped the phone on the bed.

“I need my period panties. Come on, you must have them. I feel like every girl does.” I paused, taking a deep breath and holding up my favorite pair of black briefs from when I was pregnant because of how comfortable and high up they came. “You know, like I don’t care if they get dirty and they seem to be that one comfort that just doesn’t let you down.”

I threw the panties on, and Emma laughed. “Aubs, we are still talking about underwear, right?”

“Yes, panties.”

“And not your mother?” Emma retorted, but Itsked into the phone.

“No,” I replied. “Definitely not my mother.”

“Have you talked to her?” Emma’s voice got low and serious.

“Nah, not since we moved out here.” I buttoned my jeans, then eyed the mess on the hardwood floor before deciding it could be dealt with later.

“She said she’s coming to his first away game since she’ll be in Colorado already.” I grabbed my work apron and purse before leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me.

I was on a third-floor walk-up, which was super annoying, especially when I was already late for work at the coffee shop. I had found this place off Craigslist when I insisted that I was still the adult in our relationship and was not about to take a dime from Austin. I had always been on my own, so I would continue to do so, but the move out here forced me to spend every penny I’d saved over the past few years.

Austin picked one of the most expensive sports out there to play, which meant I was used to picking up double and triple shifts sometimes just to cover tournament expenses and whatnot. “Are you still there?” I asked Emma, taking her off speaker and holding the phone to my ear.

“Loud and clear. I can hear you heaving down your steps.”

“Fuck off.” I giggled. “I’m not heaving.”

Emma had been my best friend since we had been five years old and in the same kindergarten class. We had originally hated each other because she had been outgoing, and I had been…well, not, but she had taken me under her wing and made me her best friend. We had been through so much for so long. She had been one of the only friends I had in high school who had stayed friends with me once the novelty of my cute newborn had worn off.

Emma lived in our small lakeside town in Michigan, working as a medical biller for our local hospital. Physically, she was my opposite, much taller than me with no curves, long, straight brown hair, and deep-brown eyes. She was chatty, while I was more introverted.

“You have to make sure you’re living for yourself, Aubs. It’s a new city, which means this is an opportunity to live differently.”

I scoffed. “So, you mean no one in our small town knows I was the girl who got knocked up at a party.”

She paused and let out a big sigh. “Yes. You know that’s exactly what I mean.”

I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Emma gave me the same lecture every single time we’d spoken since I moved out here. Since Chicago was such a big town, it gave me ample opportunities to go out and explore.

The problem Emma didn’t realize was that I was a mess when it came to men. Even last night when I was falling apart in front of Austin’s apartment, I had to run into an enigma of a man and looked like a blubbering fool in front of him.

I pushed open the door to the building and swiftly walked down the block where I’d managed to get a parking spot. The cafe was only ten minutes away, but I had to be there in ten minutes, so it allowed no time for parking or tardiness.

“I have to run, Em. I don’t want to be late.”

I was always a hot mess. My life was never quiet, peaceful, or calm in any way, and it never would be. Although that was probably the one thing I wanted the most—I had these fantasies that when I was old enough to retire, I would buy myself a big horse farm back in Michigan or maybe somewhere warmer where I could just…rest.

That was a far cry from the reality I lived in, but maybe one day I’d get there.

“Love you, Aubs,” Emma said as she hung up. I sprinted to my car, hoping I’d be able to get there on time.

* * *

I had started at the Jam Cafe, and despite my past barista experience, these fancy machines made me wish for a better instruction manual. Cassy, my boss, shot me an impatient look and urged, “Hurry up, we’ve got a customer waiting, but thank God it’s not rush hour.”

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