Page 174 of Gym Bros
I want to say yes, I’m most definitely sure I don’t need to talk about it anymore than I already have, but the truth is, it’s not like I can put the situation in the past since it’s an ongoing issue I’m grappling like hell with. “Are your parents married?” I ask.
“That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. They’re not. My dad cheated on my mom, too.”
“No shit.”
“No shit. It all came out a few years ago when I was in college.”
“Were you the one who found out about it first?” I ask.
“No, my mom caught him. She’d known a while. I’m not saying the situation is remotely the same. I just kinda understand the barrel you’re looking down, and if you want someone to talk it through with?—”
“Okay,” I say.
“Yeah?” she asks, surprised.
“Sure,” I say only because I think she might have more tooffer in the advice category for how to process what I know. “You wanna come over?”
“Wow. I didn’t think this would work, but yes. I can head there now.”
“Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll text you my address and the door code.”
“Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s gonna be okay.”
“If you say so.”
“I promise,” she says.
It doesn’t take her long to get to my place, and she didn’t dress up or anything. Her curly hair is in a bun, and she’s wearing baggy jeans, an even baggier hoodie, and fleece-lined boots. She looks cold.
“Want some coffee?” I ask. “I have decaf.”
“No, but I’ll take liquor.”
“I don’t have any liquor.” I’m twenty-one. It’s not like I have a stockpile. If I buy it, I drink it, and I don’t drink all that often. Empty calories piss me off on principle.
“Beer? Wine?” she asks.
“Nope.”
Rachel sighs. “Decaf is fine.”
I make her a mug of it while she sits on the couch and scratches Beauty behind the ears. I fill up my water and have a seat with them.
“So,” she says, taking the coffee from me. “I guess my first question is does your mom know yet?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell her. My mom has called, texted and left messages for me, and I’ve returned a few texts, but nothing seems off. She sounds like she always does when she checks in with me.
“And you don’t know whether to tell her or not?” she accurately guesses.
I nod.
“You’ve got brothers, right?”
“Yeah. Older. Twins. I’m not close with them.”
