Chapter 11

“Mama, Pop, Fabian’s young and single. Maybe he wants more privacy.”

Mama eyed my sister. “We’ll give him privacy. We know he’s single and looking. In fact, he’d have more privacy here than in a room rented from a stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger,” I protested. “She’s a co-worker.”

“Not family. It’s at times like this, you need family.”

“Times like this?”

“You’re broken-hearted and down on your luck,” Pop spoke up.

Okay, not that it wasn’t true, but still—

“We don’t want you to become depressed and suicidal.”

“What? Mama—”

“There’s a high percentage of that among—”

“Don’t go there,” I cut in quickly. “And anyway, I’m not.”

“You don’t have to decide this moment, of course.” My father patted my hand. “You have all the way until Sunday.”

“All the way until Sunday,” I muttered. I glared at my sister, who turned red and looked away. No help there.

“Anyway. Eat up, Fabian. You’re too skinny. Tomorrow you can help me make food for Thursday.”