Page 102 of Lighting the Lamp
“I really love my dress.” Ramona pauses, with the same wistful look I’m sure she had when she said yes to the dress.
“Exactly. So shut up and let me focus. This is your fault for banning me from changing the font.”
“You have changed the font twenty-seven million times already,” she deadpans. “The only opinion that matters is mine, and I like it.”
“Are we turning into a bridezilla now?” I ask, trying to summon something like humor, but my voice comes out thinner than I want.
“No. And even if I were, you still wouldn’t be able to stop obsessing over the damn font.”
“I’m doing my best.” I sigh, pressing a thumb into the edge of the meal cards until the paper creases beneath it. I focus on the pressure, on how good it feels to ruin something small when everything else is slipping through my fingers. “What the hell is a meal card anyway, and why do I need to pick a fish logo?”
“You don’t,” Michele says from across the kitchen table, casually pressing wax seals like we’re sealing letters for the queen. “You just need to pick a font and stop sighing like your cat died.”
“I don’t have a cat.” The words come out flat, with no real force behind them.“Maybe I should get one.”
“You’re not fooling anyone,” she says gently, no teasing in her voice. “And you’re not changing the subject either.”
They’re all watching me—Ramona, with her narrowed eyes, Michele, with her softly raised brow, and Darius, from the couch with a half-eaten slice of pizza paused midair like he’s sensing a storm rolling in. I want to look away, but I can’t. Not with the pressure building in my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“I’d just like to point out that Auntie Alise hasn’t looked at her computer screen for more than a few seconds for the last twenty minutes,” Darius says, like a commentator watching a drama unfold. “The only time I’ve seen her even glance at the table is to stab a toothpick into that cheese cube with judgment.”
“That’s not true,” I lie, shifting my gaze. “And it’s not my fault Michele brought the good cheese from the fancy grocery store near the stadium. I love good cheese.”
“It is some damn good cheese,” Ramona mutters, popping a cube into her mouth. “But he isn’t wrong; you can’t focus on anything. Spill it, Alise.”
I grip the edge of the table harder, my pulse hammering in my ears. I try to breathe around it, but my lungs are tight, shallow.
“It’s Beau.”
Darius perks up like someone just flipped the channel to his favorite drama. “Oh, did he finally get arrested for his ‘emotional menace’ status?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He waves a hand, returning his focus to the television.
“What happened?” Michele asks, sitting straighter.
“Things were going so well,” Ramona adds, frowning.
“They were,” I whisper, still rubbing the corner of the cardstock back and forth. I watch the paper bend and unbend, pretending it’s enough to hold me together. “And then he just… disappeared.”
No one says a word. It’s so quiet that I can hear the hum of the heat as it clicks on, but it’s not a comfortable silence; it feels like it’s waiting for something to break.
“No phone calls. No stopping by the rink. I haven’t seen him for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Ramona echoes, her voice no longer sharp, but cautious.
I nod. My throat feels raw, like every word I’ve swallowed over the last few days is clawing its way up now.
“I’ve gotten like four texts. All short and vague. One of them was a thumbs-up emoji.”
“Oh, no.” Michele lets out a noise like someone punched her in the gut. “The emotional equivalent of a passive wave from across the street.”
“And Cooper said Beau missed film review. Practiced… barely. And there was a game last weekend, and Beau showedup looking like shit. Cooper’s not even sure if he’s playing this week.”
The quiet that follows is thick and suffocating. My hands are trembling now, so I slide them under the table and clasp them together tight, like I can hold back the unraveling.
“Hendrix boys don’t skip practice.” Michele scoots her chair closer, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, eyes narrowing. “I’m sure my dad had a field day with that.”
