Page 19 of The Fast Lane
“There. Happy?” Dad raised a dark eyebrow.
“Thank you, honey.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, seeing as how she was a couple of inches taller than him. While she was tall, blonde and a card-carrying member of the Peach-shaped Body Society, Dad was stocky and his light-brown skin, which stayed permanently tan in the Texas sun, had been passed to him by his father. Grandpa Ramos’s family had been of Mexican descent, although they’d been in Texas for generations. Grandpa had married a blonde woman with big blue eyes, too. So, while I was a Ramos, I was more white than Mexican, and my Spanish was only competent enough to order arroz con pollo at the Taco Truck.
In high school, I’d taken Japanese, since I was deep into my manga era then. Turns out there aren’t many opportunities to use Japanese in small-town Texas.
Theo’s arm brushed against my shoulder as he came to stand next to me. “You ready to go?”
I gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “You betcha.”
Just normal old Ali who is in no way panicking at the thought of hours upon hours of alone time with him.
The corner of his mouth tipped in amusement. Sometimes I swore he could read my thoughts. Another reason to panic. ’Cause where Theo was concerned, my thoughts were…often, um, private.
“Do you have snacks?” Mom asked.
Theo nodded. “Yes.”
“Jumper cables?” She turned to my dad without waiting for an answer. “Eli, do we have extra jumper cables for them?”
“I have jumper cables, a spare tire, my car insurance is up to date, I’m CPR-certified, all my seatbelts and airbags are in working condition and I made sure my zombie apocalypse kit is stocked for two.”
“Alright.” Mom held her arms out and gave Theo a hug.
To my mother, Theo was like a fourth son. He and his mom moved next door to us when I was six; Theo was nine. Becky and my mom became fast friends. My brothers—only three years separating the oldest from the youngest—found a kindred spirit in Theo, but it was Abe he was always the closest to, in both age and friendship.
Becky had been a single mom, Theo’s father having left when he wasn’t yet two and never heard from again. When she’d gotten a position as an overnight ICU nurse at a nearby hospital, she and my mom hatched a plan. In the evenings when she left for work, Theo came to our house. He ate dinner with us. He did his homework at the table with us. He listened to Mom read to us before bed. He slept on a trundle bed in the bedroom all three of my brothers shared.
He was just always there. Another brother. But not. Mom had been like a second mom to him. Now with Becky gone, Mom was even more determined that Theo always felt like he was part of our family.
“Well, you should probably be going then.” She released Theo from the stranglehold of a hug. “Drive safe. You have precious cargo with you.”
“I’m sure the centerpieces will be fine,” I said.
“Very funny,” she muttered as she wrapped me in her arms next.
“Stephy,” Dad said when she was still hugging me a full thirty seconds later. “Let go of her.”
Her grasp only grew tighter. “But she’s leaving me.”
“Mom.” My voice muffled against her shoulder. “You’re going to see us in a few days.”
“Oh, fine.” She let go. Finally.
Dad rolled his eyes but slung an arm around Mom’s shoulders and pulled her close. “We’ll see you in Portland.”
I nudged Theo with my shoulder. “Quick, let’s go, before she tries to handcuff us to the dining room table and load us up with so much meatloaf and apple pie, we won’t be able to move.”
Theo’s head tilted in my direction. “Did you say apple pie, though? Isn’t there always time for pie?”
Without a word, I linked my arm through his and dragged him to the car. My mother, Lord help us, stood in the driveway and waved until we were out of sight.
EIGHT
Note to self:
Do not get distracted by Theo’s hands…
You know what? Don’t look directly at Theo at all.