Page 33 of Dear Adam
“Mhm,” she says. “Go on.” She’s holding the phone under her chin, so I’m once again blessed with the view of the inside of her nostrils.
“What do you mean, ‘go on’?” I ask.
“That doesn’t explain why you have his phonenow.”
Glenda might be overbearing, a little irritating, and more than I can handle most days, but sheistrustworthy. And honestly, I’m dying to confess to someone. I’m chewing on my lower lip nervously when suddenly the phone moves so close to her face, all that fits into the screen are her heavily lacquered red lips that are commanding me totell her right now.
“Okay, so…I saw he had a text from his sister. I didn’t mean to read it but it popped up on the screen, and I was curious why his sister was texting him when he’s, you know…in a coma. Long story short, she’s been sending him updates on everything he’s been missing so when he wakes up, he has an easy way to catch up.”
“That’s very sweet. But you’re still not telling me why you have his phone.”
“I wanted to return it, I really did. But every time I got around to it, something came up.” Suddenly, I’m thankful for the nostril shot because there’s no way I could look her in the eyes after confessing that. I sound like a complete coward.
“You like her, don't you?”
I nod, and she grins wickedly. “Teenie and I had a feeling you liked her. Actually, I know you really like her because your cheeks are all red and splotchy again.”
I pretend not to hear, even though I’m sure she can feel the heat radiating from my face through the screen. “Glenda, I really need to get off here. Call me if you need somethingimportant,okay?”
“Oh, one more thing!”
My thumb hovers above the end button, and I’m tempted to go ahead and hit it. One little tap and the suffering would be over. “Yes?” I ask instead.
“I’m coming in for the Fourth of July! I’m finally going to meet my best friend, Teenie!” In her excitement, the phone winds up face down on the floor. Muffled clapping comes through the speakers, then seconds later, she picks it up and dusts it off against the side of her pants. Satisfied, she brings it back to her face. “Are you excited to see me?”
“Who invited you?” I ask, rubbing my temple.
“You’re mom, silly.” She's looking at me as if they’ve been lifelong best friends and didn’t only meet last week over the phone.
“That’s…great,” I say with feigned enthusiasm. “Listen, I’ve really got to go.”
“Right, okay. Bye!” She ends the call, and I’m left wondering how in the world this crazy woman wove her way not only into my life, but my mom’s, too. Then, I remember Aly’s text to Adam. On a whim, I pull up her name on my own phone.
Me:Ice cream?
Aly:Tacos?
Me:You’d rather have tacos?
Aly:What?
Me:I was asking if you wanted to get ice cream with me.
Aly:Oh. I thought we were guessing each other’s favorite foods. Yes, ice cream sounds great.
Me:I’ll pick you up in twenty.
Aly:I’m down at the waterfront. I have Pretzel if you want to bring Hank.
“You wanna go for a ride, buddy?” Hank’s ears perk up, and he’s instantly up and trotting to the door. I squish all ninety pounds of him into the back of the Teenie Mobile and head toward the waterfront.
Aly is sitting on a bench, Pretzel in her lap, shoulders hunched, the wind blowing her hair around her face. She’s resting her head on her hand, staring out into the harbor, watching people and boats zoom past. She startles when I reach her, then gathers her things to make room for me.
“I didn’t see you!” she says. “I must’ve been zoned out. Here.” She pats the seat next to her, then leans down to pat Hank on the head.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Not the best.”
