Page 30 of Dream House
“Das a bad wowd, Unca Lawk.”
Shit.
“Yeah, yeah it is, Grayson. I shouldn’t have said it.” Because if Grayson blabs to Maggie, she’s going to roast my balls on a spit. “Sorry, buddy.”
“S’okay, Unca Lawk,” Grayson says to his reflection. “It gonna be okay.”
I try callingStella Mouton once more before Analysis of Geo Data and once after Geophysics, but the call goes to voicemail both times. I have to meet with two of my classmates from Stratigraphy to work on a group project on depositional sequences, and we stay in a study carrel at Dupre Library for two and a half hours.
It’s after five o’clock by the time I’m walking back to my car at Stokes Hall. I check my phone, and I have a missed call, but it’s from Bear.
Nothing from Stella Mouton.
“Shit.”
I tap Bear’s number, and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey, man. Thanks for calling me back.” I hear the screen door creak behind him, so I’m guessing he just stepped outside. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He sounds like he’s expecting more.
“Yeah. Just leaving campus.”
Silence.
“Where you heading?”
I halt in my tracks. I was heading over to his place, but I’m just starting to pick up the strain in Bear’s voice, and maybe heading over there isn’t such a good idea.
“Everything all right?”
Bear’s sigh is epic.
“Uh oh,” I mutter.
“Yeah… um. Maggie called me crying after she picked up Grayson from school.” Bear clears his throat, and I can almost picture him dragging his hands through his hair in agitation. “She said he doesn’t look like a baby anymore, and she’ll never be able to look at his Pre-K3 pictures without having her heart ripped out.”
I swallow. “Oh.”
“She… she started crying again when I got home just now—” His voice lowers to a squeaky whisper. “Lark, I don’t think it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You know, postpartum hormones and all…”
“Right.” Maggie’s scary when she’s yelling, but it’s also diverting—like listening to a true crime podcast while having your teeth cleaned.
Maggie crying—for any reason—is torture.
And it’s not just for any reason. This one’s pretty much on me.
“Right,” I say again. “So maybe I should find somewhere else to crash tonight?”
“That’d be great,” Bear says in a rush. “No luck on an apartment yet?”
I don’t bother telling him about Roomies.com and Stella Mouton, but I do make a decision. “I’m going to check out a place right now.”
“Oh, cool.” His relief is embarrassing. “Still, you probably won’t be able to move in today. Maybe not even until the first.”
I wrinkle my nose. He has a point. The first is nearly a month from now.
