Page 598 of Hell Hath No Fury
Closing the door behind me, I face plant into the comfy sofa, hoping to wring some small amount of comfort from it’s familiar surface. Exhaustion turns my vision gray and just as I’m starting to eek off into slumber, a sound pulls me from the edge of unconsciousness.
My ears strain and it comes again.
A giggle.
From my mom’s room.
I press my face into the couch cushions. Dear God, please no.
She giggles again, followed by the low tones of a man’s voice.
Jesus Christ she has to be nearing fifty, how is she still going strong?
And how in the hell am I supposed to sneak back to my room without alerting the happy couple? Do I even want to spend the rest of the night sharing a bedroom wall with them?
Coming home was supposed to be the easy part.
Maybe the couch is a better choice.
Mom’s squeal carries down the hallway.
Yep, a much better choice.
I’m just drifting over the edge when her door opens. Wincing into the pillows, I try to feign sleep. Her tiptoes inch down the hallway and toward the kitchen. They pause in the entryway.
Then, “Stella?”
I swallow the groan, but she’s always been able to read me.
“Stella, I know you’re awake. What are you doing on the couch? I thought you were staying with Dr. Alexandrov?”
Kissing my sweet dreams goodbye, I sit up, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “It wasn’t that kind of date, Mom.”
I can see her twinkling eyes all the way across the room. She glances back at her room and then at me. “Honey, it’s always that kind of date.”
She chuckles all the way into the kitchen, and I follow her because I’m already up and my stomach is making the lack of dinner known. “What do you mean?”
Flashing me a puzzled frown, she says, “You lived in New York. I’m sure you dated around. I thought for sure Dr. A was going to be your type.”
Settling at the little dinette with an orange and a cup of tea, I say, “I didn’t say he isn’t my type.”
Mom grins impishly. “See! I knew it!”
I roll my eyes. “His grandpa just died. It’s not exactly the time to jump anyone’s bones.”
“You’re too serious, sometimes, Stel. That’s why I wanted to hook the both of you up. After his—” she cuts herself off, her eyes wide. “I’m just saying.”
Licking the juice off my fingers, I study her. “Yes. What were you saying?”
“Nothing sweetheart. I’m just happy you found someone you get along with,” she answers a little too brightly. “I better get back.”
She kisses me on the brow and saunters down the hallway to a welcoming cat call from her gentlemen friend.
* * *
The next evening, after a hard night’s sleep I spend the after lunch hours submitting applications to a couple of other prospective jobs and internships—none of which seem like they’ll bear any fruit, but they’re worth the effort. Especially a grad program at a neighboring college. One that has connections to people in the theatre world.
Pretty much the type of thing I’d kill for right now, especially since I can’t imagine doing anything other than being on stage.
