Lost King by Piper Lennox (moboreader txt) 📗

so thankful to have you, I totally forgot it was Thanksgiving.”

27

“Aunt Thalia, I can’t see you. Move the camera cover.”

Taming my frustration with another cookie from the plate Clara brought me, I stretch out on the porch swing and wait for my aunt to listen. She’s actually pretty tech-savvy—no low angles; no shouting during video calls—but she’s also notoriously paranoid.

Which is why, every time she video chats me, I know to expect a blank screen and several moments of her talking, before she realizes her privacy switch is over the lens.

“There.” She smiles into the camera, sunglasses glinting. “Better?”

“Much. Happy Thanksgiving.”

She says it back, then demands a full panoramic tour of my location.

Brushing cookie crumbs off my coat, I stand and do a slow spin, showing her. “It’s really beautiful up here. I think I forgot what clean snow looked like. But I’m still insanely jealous of you guys.”

“I promise, love, I’ll take you to Belize one of these days, too. By the way, your mom is loving it. I knew this was just what she needed.” Pulling the phone so close I can see her pores, she whispers, “She walked almost a quarter-mile today.”

“You’re kidding.” I can’t even try to hide my shock. My mom hasn’t comfortably walked more than a few yards at a time in years.

“Swear to God. She had the walker, of course, and she took a couple breaks along the way, but still impressive. And you should’ve seen her playing shuffleboard yesterday. She even hit on one of the pool boys when we were tanning.”

My laugh instantly brings tears to my eyes—partially because I’m laughing just that hard, but mostly because this takes my slight envy and cranks it up to something unbearable.

Mom is walking. She’s being her silly, fun self again. And I’m missing it.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Aunt Thalia says, probably picking up on every emotion running through my head and, I’m sure, across my face. “As soon as she’s back, I’ll pass the phone.”

“She’s in the bathroom by herself?” Newfound mobility or not, my mom being alone in a room with slick tiled floors and massive porcelain fixtures doesn’t sit well.

“I’m right outside the door, Ruby.” She shows me the Women’s Room symbol behind her as proof. “Trust me, I tried to go in with her, but she wasn’t having it.”

With a deep breath that cramps my lungs, I force myself to relax. Or, at least, to stop scolding my aunt.

Not that I’d ever tell her this, but that was another reason I left: I hated how easily it came to her, taking care of my mom. Aunt Thalia keeps the reins loose, balancing safety with dignity, which means my Mom stays pretty happy around her.

My care has no such balance. The few times I tried easing up, Mom would almost fall or faint. I got too scared. Too strict.

In my care, she’s totally safe…and totally miserable. Maybe it was a good thing I left.

This thought should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

I am happy when Mom appears on-screen, though. It’s been a long time since her face glowed like it does now. A long, long time since she looked like her old self.

We chat about our trips, the topic itself feeling bizarre: we haven’t taken vacations in years. Going to the Hamptons for half the year was enough of a change of pace, she’d joke. When I’d join her after school ended, she’d tell me I was lucky to spend every summer in a ritzy beach town, earning money and building my résumé, instead of lounging in front of the TV or slumming it at the mall.

Lucky. Yeah, right.

“Looks like I’m putting on a show.” Theo groans this, loudly, as he clatters out onto the porch. I try to signal to him to stay quiet, for his own good—but it’s too late.

“Who’s that in the background?” Mom’s face floods the screen, like getting closer can zoom in my camera. Tech-savvy, she is not. “Is that a boy?” To Thalia, she says, “It’s a boy. No, it isn’t Callum. I know!”

“Mom! Mom.” I decide to wait until they’re done gossiping. It’ll be a while. Holding the phone away from myself, I look at Theo. “Mind saying hi to my mother? I promise I’ll make up for the psychological torment later.”

He smiles and holds out his hand. I pass him the phone.

“What do I call her?” he whispers, while Mom and Aunt Thalia are still distracted, whispering way louder than they think they are.

“Ms. Paulsen,” I tell him. “My aunt too. They’ll correct you, but start with the manners first. They love that.”

“Got it,” he winks, melting me right into a puddle of stomach flutters and stupid smiles.

“Ooh, this one’s cute,” Aunt Thalia declares, when they finally pay attention and see him. “Where on earth did Ruby find you?”

“The hardware store, ma’am,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Paulsen. And you, too…Ms. Paulsen. I’m Theo.”

They cluck and insist he call them by their first names. I brace myself: invasive questions in three, two....

“How long have you and our little Ruby been...?” This comes from my aunt, so I know exactly how she intended that question to end.

Theo hesitates, probably realizing it’s a trap. She wants to see what he’ll assume she meant.

Thank God, he’s too smart for that.

“We’ve been seeing each other a few weeks. Only official as of today, though.”

“Official,” Aunt Thalia muses. “You must really like her to jump into being a couple so quickly.”

Theo laughs, mostly at me: I’m melting again, this time into a puddle of embarrassment, right on the porch floor.