Here With You | ✔

PROLOGUE

Calvin Sumner

     Mom is looking at me funny, which is inhibiting the organized chaos that is packing up my whole life into boxes. Again. It feels like I just unpacked these boxes. Mostly because I had, just months ago. When I'd started looking at apartments, she questioned why I was even unpacking to begin with.

     "Because mom," I had said, my tone haughty. I'd been taking a tone with her for months now, but the tone has since dropped. "I am physically incapable of living out of a box. You raised me. You should know this."

     After some amount of staring, I finally go, "Just say you think this is too soon and you don't approve, so we can have the ensuing argument and I can get back to focusing on this."

     She frowns. "Why do you assume I'm always going to say the worst thing?"

     "I don't know. Probably because you do always say the worst thing."

     "I say the honest thing. And I honestly think this is great and I'm happy for you. For you both. But can I not be sad my only son is moving out?"

     "You don't think it's like not in my best interest to go from living with you to living with him?"

     She looks at me questioningly. "Do you think that?"

     "No," I say perfectly honest. Mainly because I don't. At all. "So I took Dres with me to look at this apartment a few months ago and he was like imagine your ideal home. And I imagined..."

     "His place?"

     I flush, looking down at my hands. "I just think there's a reason I didn't vibe with any of the one hundred apartments I saw. Maybe it was a sign."

     "Hmm, well, just know living with someone is not easy. It's different living with family because you can get away with a lot. Living with your partner can strain the relationship if you aren't careful."

     "See, now that sounded like you disapproving."

     She laughs. "I'm not disapproving. I'm just saying you are not the most perfect person to live with, and I'm sure Dres isn't either. So you need to be patient and understanding and compromise. These would've been great lessons to learn dorming. In college. Which you failed to do."

     "But then I would've missed out on having you as a roommate."

     "Yeah because there's nothing I loved more than cleaning your vomit out of my kitchen sink."

     "It was one time," I exclaim. "Look, Dres is going to be here after work and I'm supposed to have everything downstairs and ready. I've got like an hour to finish this."

     She holds up her hands stepping backwards into the hall. "Okay, okay. Are you guys staying for dinner?"

     "Sure," I say mostly to appease her. I grab my phone, shooting a text to Dres to let him know. He thumbs up's my message. It blows my mind that just six months ago communication between us was so poor I probably would've boomeranged my phone out the window if he'd thumbs up'd my message.

     Dinner is long. Even though my mom and Dres have been cavorting behind my back for months, they're acting like this is the first time they're truly having a conversation since we moved back here. She's telling stories about California that are really not all that interesting and he's hanging on her every word. At one point I tell her Dres doesn't want to hear about how she separated twins and Dres gives me that look that's one part scolding, one part soothing.