“how’s jasper?” mom says from across the kitchen table. i stab my spaghetti a few times with my fork, twirling it. i shrug in response.
“he’s… fine,” i say.
she raises an eyebrow in response. “just fine?”
i nod and take a bite, diverting my attention.
“is he, you know… coping well still?”
i look at her and she has that crease beneath her eyebrows. it shows when she’s worried or thinking deeply. i wipe my mouth off with a napkin.
“yeah,” i quietly say. “he’s doing good.”
“has he said anything about it to you?” she asks.
i’m stuck between telling her and not telling her and i end up sighing. “no,” i lie. “he hasn’t told me anything.”
“you know, the house phone rung today… some guy asked for you. it didn’t sound like jasper…”
“solicitors, mother,” i say a bit too harshly and her mouth goes agape at my remark. “sorry, i just don’t feel like talking about it…”
“if you know something, anything… you know you have to tell us or the authorities, right?” she says, looking at me with her typical stern look. “it could help in the case and—“
“okay.”
she smiles. “okay. good talk.”
i take another bite and grab my water.
“so, was he a good kisser?”
my eyes go wide and i splutter water everywhere.
“what?” i choke out in response, grabbing a napkin and wiping my shirt and table off. she smirks and rolls her eyes at me.
“i saw you two in the hallway the other day—and no, i didn’t stick around. i just came home to get my purse and i left.”
“oh my god,” i groan and hang my head.
my mom wheels herself to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “just be careful, val.”
i peak a glance at her.
“why wouldn’t i be?” i question her.
she just gives me a look and wheels away into the living room, leaving me stupefied and left to clean the dishes.
“great,” i mutter to myself. “fan-tast-ic.”
