Page 20 of O Goalie Night
I force a grin at my mother’s concerned face looking at me from my laptop. I’ve been putting off this call all week, but it’s Friday night, and I’ve run out of excuses.
“And tired. Are you tired? Dale, look how tired she looks.”
My Dad isn’t even on screen and I have no idea why she keeps asking for his input.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Mom. I’m eating regularly and sleeping well.” I’m the best sleeper in my family. As a baby, I’d sleep for twelve hours straight from the time I was six weeks old. Mom took me to our family doctor because she was worried there was something wrong with me.
Although, apparently, as a kid I would occasionally sleepwalk, if that’s what you call it. I’d get up in the middle of night, walk around, and even have conversations with my family. In the morning, I’d have no recollectionof even being out of bed. Even now, I set three alarms to wake me up every morning.
My mother sniffs like I’ve offended her. “Well, you look like a sleepy skeleton, that’s all.”
Patsy Michaels has been this way for as long as I can remember. Mom firmly believes that no one can take care of her children as well as she can, not even ourselves. When we’d spend a weekend with our grandparents, she’d pack days’ worth of food, like she thought they couldn’t feed us properly.
I steer the conversation away from my weight, which I’m pretty sure has not changed in the eight days I’ve been here, and fill them in on my new job. I tell them about the students, the staff, and the building itself, knowing my mom loves nothing more than getting as many details as possible.
“And what about your apartment? Can you give us a little tour? I want to see the space.”
Okay, Beth. Just like you rehearsed.
“So there was a bit of a mixup with the place I was supposed to rent.” My mouth has gone very dry, but I force myself to keep going, making sure my smile never fades. “Long story short, it didn’t work out and I’m staying with a friend of Ben’s, for the time being.”
Were it not for her rapid blinks I would think the screen had frozen.
“Did you say Ben’s friend?” My dad’s head pops into view. His ears always perk up whenever his only son’s name comes up. His grey hair is slightly matted to his head like he’s had a hat on for hours and he’s wearing one of the two dozen Otters t-shirts he’s collected over the years.
“Yes, you’ve both met him. It’s Foster.”
“Foster? Foster James?” He barks.
Of course, Foster James,I think as I resist rolling my eyes. Do we know any other Fosters?
“The team’s goalie?” Mom has regained her ability to speak.
“The very same.” I’m smiling so hard that my face hurts. I know that I need to sell them on this so I play the ace up my sleeve. “Ben thought it was for the best.”
The fastest way to guarantee my parents get on board with something is to tell them that Ben’s all for it.
My parents exchange a long look and I wait for the barrage of questions I’m about to be hit with.
“Well, as long as Ben thinks it's a good plan,” Dad says with a shrug.
My mother chirps her approval next. “Yes, Sweetie. Be sure to be a good house guest, though. Make your bed every morning and pick up after yourself.”
Unbelievable.
Yes, I wanted my parents to be okay with my living situation, but I expected a bit more concern. I mean, come on! Their youngest child, who’s never lived with a man that wasn’t an immediate family member, is playing house with a single, professional athlete and they don’t even bat an eye? As always, my brother’s stamp of approval proves it is worth its weight in gold.
Mom starts to tell me about an upcoming craft fair at a nearby high school, and I follow along, agreeing with her at the appropriate times.
“Yeah, Mom, that’s pretty expensive for a pair of mittens.” I stifle a yawn. “I think I’d better get to bed. So I can look more rested the next time we chat.”
We say our goodbyes and I log off, shoving my laptop to the edge of my bed. Even though I’m miffed at their lack of response, I feel lighter than I have all day having finally talked to my parents. Ben and I both agreed that there was no need to tell them everything.
I’m actually surprised that Ben didn’t object when Foster told him I was planning to extend my stay, but he probably figured that if I’m safe and settled here, why go to the trouble of helping me find something else.
I pull out my phone and send him a quick text just letting him know that everything went swimmingly with Mom and Dad before heading to the kitchen in search of a snack.
There were several bare shelves in Foster’s pantry when I got here and I took the liberty of filling them with my own groceries. I grab a bag of potato chips and make my way to the living room prepared to spend the next two hours scrolling hundreds of channels only to end up not watching anything.
