Page 30 of Jesse's Girl
Jesse squeezes past my parents, shooting me a smile as he joins the mayhem.
Mom returns to the drawer, clattering through its contents while directing some pointed muttering in Dad’s direction about a missing spoon.
“Maria, I told you, I haven’t seen that serving spoon in weeks!” Dad says. “Just let it go!”
“Let it go? It didn’t just walk out of the house, Frank.”
I roll my eyes and pull napkins from a nearby drawer.
As Jesse washes his hands at the sink beside me, he nudges my elbow. “You good?” he asks quietly, having clearly caught wind of my mood.
“Yeah, fine.” I give him a thin smile as I stack napkins in a pile. I glance over my shoulder at my parents, who continue to shout over each other while hunting for the missing serving spoon. I turn back to Jesse, unable to avoid noticing how his forearms flex as he dries his hands on a tea towel. “So, did you enjoy the twenty-five cent tour of the house? How much do you know about heat-pump air conditioners now?”
“Oh…” He blows out a breath. “I mean, will it ever be enough?”
I laugh, shoving the pile of napkins into his hands. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
With the lot of us gathered around the table, Dad says grace—more of a tradition than a necessity in our selectively Catholic household—and we dig into the food.
“Jesse,” Mom starts, scooping polenta onto her plate, “we’re so glad to hear Maureen’s doing better. We were shocked to hear about what happened!”
“Huge shock!” Dad adds. “Couldn’t believe it when Marcus told me.”
“Thanks, yeah,” Jesse says. “It was unexpected, for sure. But she’s recovering well.”
“Marcus tells us you have some time off work?” Dad raises his gray eyebrows before taking a sip of wine. When Jesse nods, Dad swallows and gives him a thoughtful look. “So how long do you think you’ll be in town?”
“The million-dollar question,” Jesse says with a hint of amusement, accepting the dish Mom passes him, and explains his mom will need support during her recovery over the next several weeks.
“So, still looking like you’ll be here for the whole summer?” Renee asks, eyes flitting between Jesse and Marcus before taking a bite of roast. She’s got a good poker face, but she can’t be happy about having such a long-term houseguest.
Jesse nods beside me. “Seems like it, yeah. But don’t worry, I’m not planning on imposing on you two that whole time. I’ll find a place to stay.”
Renee smiles, trying but failing to hide her relief.
“You can’t stay with Maureen?” Mom asks.
“I would, but there isn’t really room for two there. The place she got after the divorce is a glorified shoebox. And I wanna let her rest without bumping around in her space, y’know? So I’ll probably find a vacation rental or something.”
“Oh, my God,” Renee says, setting down her fork suddenly with a clink. She slaps Marcus gently on the shoulder. “Ada.”
I look up from my food, mirroring my brother’s confused expression.
“Babe, what do you mean Ada?” Marcus asks.
She turns to me, waving a perfectly manicured hand as if to start over. “Ada, Jesse could move in with you! Like, for the summer. You’ve been trying to find a new roommate, right?”
“Oh,” I manage. That feeling returns instantly—the one where I’m hyper-aware of Jesse watching me. I risk only a sidelong glance his way.
“Uh,” Marcus says, furrowing his brow, “I dunno. Would that work?” His eyes dart between us, as if trying to gauge our reaction to the idea. “I mean, I guess it would solve Ada’s roommate problem. For now, anyway.”
“And Jesse’s problem,” Renee offers, turning to him. “Not that you staying on our couch is a problem,” she adds quickly. “It’s just—Ada has an actual bedroom and all…”
“Uh, yeah, but…” Jesse trails off, shifting in his seat.
“You wouldn’t have to look for a place!” Renee presses, clearly convinced, and picks up her fork. “I think it’s a win-win.”
I turn to Jesse. “Why didn’t you say something?”