Page 33 of Prince Material
And maybe stop quoting romantic comedies before I completely exposed myself.
Though knowing my luck, I’d probably end up recreating the entire pottery scene fromGhostbefore I managed to actually tell him how I felt.
10
ORSON
I’d been at my desk for hours, working through problem sets and triple-checking my calculations. The familiar routine usually calmed me, but today something felt off, like that peculiar stillness before a storm that every New Orleans native learns to recognize. That heavy, electric feeling where the air pressed against your skin like a wet blanket, and even the birds go quiet, as if holding their breath. The kind of atmospheric tension that made the hair on your arms stand up and had you checking the sky, muscle memory from too many summers spent watching for that telltale green tinge in the clouds.
But why was I feeling like this?
Floris was out at some campus event he’d tried to drag me to, something about international students and cultural exchange. The room felt different without his constant motion and cheerful chatter. Quieter, but not necessarily in a good way. I’d gotten used to his presence, his ability to pull me out of my own head when I started spiraling into perfectionist territory.
It amazed me how quickly he’d become such an essential part of my daily routine. Mere months ago, I’d dreaded having anew roommate, and even more after meeting him, since he seemed so carefree and disorganized. But Floris had this way of making everything brighter, whether he was explaining Dutch water management with surprising passion or teasing me about my “excessive” organization habits. He slipped coffee onto my desk during late-night study sessions, dragged me out for actual meals instead of protein bars, and somehow knew exactly when I needed to be pulled away from my books before I drove myself crazy. The friendship that had developed between us felt like finding an unexpected solution to a complex equation: surprising but perfectly logical once you saw all the variables.
The phone’s vibration startled me out of my concentration. I rarely got calls. Mom preferred texting, and Tia was usually too busy as a freshman in college to check in with me regularly. The New Orleans area code made my stomach clench.
“Hello?”
“Orson? It’s Principal Matthews.”
My heart stuttered. Principal Matthews had been Dad’s friend, had given Mom her job after… after Dad had died. He wouldn’t call unless?—
“What’s wrong?”
“Your mother collapsed during third period. They’re taking her to University Medical Center.”
The words hit like physical blows.Collapsed. Hospital. The room tilted sideways, and I gripped my desk hard enough to hurt. “Is she okay?”
“They think it might’ve been a heart attack. I called Tia and she’s already on her way to the hospital. Orson, if it was a heart attack…”
I swallowed thickly. “She may need surgery.”
“Yes. I know this is awfully inconvenient for you, but you need to come home. Your mom and sister need you.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll figure something out.” The words came automatically while my mind raced. Flights. I needed to check flights. But last-minute tickets were expensive, and the emergency fund Mom insisted I maintained wouldn’t be enough.
“Glad to hear that. Tia was very distraught, so Mrs. Bowman, Tia’s counselor from senior year, is with her at the hospital now. She has offered to stay with her until you’re here or your mom is released. Is that okay with you?”
Why was he asking me? I wasn’t… Fuck, Iwasthe adult now. With my mom unable to make these decisions and Tia being so young emotionally speaking, I had to make the call. “Yes. Thank you so much. I will… I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I ended the call, my hands shaking so badly, I nearly dropped the phone.Mom. Hospital. Heart attack.The words swirled in my head, each one carrying echoes of that day on the roof, of water rising and choices that couldn’t be unmade.
Not again. I couldn’t lose someone else. Not like this. Not when I was too far away to help.
The door opened, and Floris walked in, his usual energy filling our small room. He stopped short when he saw my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“My mom…” The words stuck in my throat. Saying them would make it real. “She collapsed at school. They think it was a heart attack.”
Floris dropped his bag and was beside me in two strides. “Is she at the hospital?”
I nodded, my hands still shaking. “In New Orleans. My sister’s there, but she’s only twenty and has some developmental delays. She can’t handle this. I need to…” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to focus. “I need to book a flight. I need to go home.”
“Let me help.” His voice was steady, grounding. “I can call my travel planner?—”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “I can’t… I don’t need…”
