Chapter 17

“Oh!” That was her reaction to my new look when I got to the kitchen, where the phone was. The cordless handsets were always hit-or-miss. The batteries were constantly near dead, often cutting a call partway through. Whenever we wanted to make sure we could talk awhile, we used the base with the cord on the wall.

“Who is it?” I asked my mother, yanking at the hem of my T-shirt to cover what was left of my hard-on.

“Mathias?” She posed it as a question.

“Mathias?” So did I, only with a lot more surprise in my tone.

“I think that’s what he said. I like your hair.”

I caught sight of one side in the glass on the toaster oven door. It needed work and was no way near worthy of “I like your hair.” Her initial “Oh!” was definitely more fitting. But Mama was always kind, so I thanked her before taking the phone. “Hello?”

“Reed. Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How you doing?”

“Good.” I took a beat. “Well, I mean. You?”

“Fine.”

I realized it was my turn, but I’d run out of follow-ups.