The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  “I do like him getting yelled at,” she murmurs, slightly mollified.

  I smile at her. “He did, and he took it very well. He’s not as worried about the possibility of pregnancy as I am.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Men.”

  “He offered to buy me a house.”

  She blinks. “What?”

  “He’s crazy,” I explain. “He was talking about how if I end up pregnant because of this one little time, it won’t ruin my life. He’ll buy us a house in Boston and we’ll go to college just like we planned to. He even suggested hiring you as the baby’s well-paid nanny in a bid to make you like him—and ensure expert childcare for our hypothetical baby, of course. He’s immensely impressed with me, so he thinks your parenting skills are top notch.”

  A little more placated, she says, “Well. I guess maybe he’s not a complete asshole.”

  I shake my head. “He’s not. I really do think you’ll like him. He’s rather charming.”

  “They’re all charming when they’re trying to get skimpy skirts off of us,” she assures me. “When you actually get pregnant and reality sets in, things tend to change.”

  “Well, why don’t we cross that bridge if we get to it,” I suggest. “In the meantime, let’s figure out my birth control situation and hope for the best.”

  Sighing, Mom asks, “Which of us is the adult here? Look at you handling this whole situation on your own.”

  I crack a smile. “If it makes you feel better, you can still call and make the doctor’s appointment for me. I hate doing that.”

  Mom brightens. “There’s my 18-year-old. Yes, I can do that. Do you know when you work this week?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet, but the schedule should be posted tonight. I’ll write it down and leave it on the table for you.”

  Mom nods, then sighs, looking across from me with a bittersweet glint in her eyes. “So, we’re doing this now, huh? My baby is growing up.”

  “It was bound to happen,” I tell her.

  “Benjamin Button is a lie.”

  I smile, feeling a lot better now that we’ve talked. “Well, I better go take a shower and get ready for work.”

  At first she nods and doesn’t say anything while I stand, but I can tell there’s something still brewing in her head by the look on her face. Before I make it out of the kitchen, she calls, “Hey.”

  I stop and turn back. “Yeah?”

  “So… you and Hunter are together now? It’s official?”

  My spirits fall just a little. “Um… no. It’s not official. I mean, he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but… I don’t really know how to explain it.”

  She frowns faintly. “Uh huh.”

  “It’s complicated,” I say, a touch more nervous. I know I made some progress on her opinion about Hunter and opening up to the prospect of giving him a chance, but I also know she can shut that down just as easily if she gets a whiff of something she doesn’t like.

  “Complicated,” she echoes.

  “Because of me,” I add. “I just don’t know if I necessarily want to be his girlfriend. We have such different lives. I let him give me a ride home from homecoming after Anderson and I broke up, and his friends… they’re just not the crowd I love to be around. Anyway, I don’t want to put a lot of pressure on it right now. I don’t feel the need to define things.”

  “Right,” she says uncertainly. “Well, I was just thinking if he is your boyfriend now, I should probably meet him. Maybe we could do a family dinner, have Ray over, invite Hunter…”

  I nod. “I don’t think it’s time for that right now, but if anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

  Mom nods, but she still looks a little troubled.

  I need to get ready and I don’t want to get drawn any deeper into this conversation since it went kind of well, so I turn to leave again.

  Before I go, she says, “Hey, Riley?”

  I turn back. “Yes, Mom?”

  “I haven’t… instilled a fear of commitment in you... right?”

  I’m so stunned, I can’t quite hide it. “What? No, of course not.”

  She’s still frowning, but she nods like she wants to believe me. “Okay.”

  ___

  Between waiting on tables, bringing out food, and cleaning up as I go, my closing shift flies by.

  Normally, I can check my phone at least once or twice, but tonight I don’t get to it until the last customer is out and I’ve started on my closing work. While the other waitress sweeps the floor, I slide into a booth and start wrapping silverware.

  I sneak my phone out of my apron real quick to check it since I haven’t all night. A smile claims my lips when I see a text from Hunter.

  The message reads, “What do you think of this one? I like the balcony.”

  Balcony?

  I click the link he sent me and see a three bedroom, two bathroom home in Boston.

  “Oh my God,” I mutter out loud, but I can’t help smiling as I text back. “Do not buy me a house.”

  “I thought you’d like the built-in bookcases in the living room,” he sends back right away.

  Built-in bookcases? My finger hovers over the link again. I’m tempted to investigate, but I deny the urge and text him back, “Do not buy me a house.”

  “There’s a spare bedroom in case your mom wants to visit,” he adds for further enticement.

  I sigh, tearing into a new package of napkins. Once it’s open, I text back, “Do not buy me a house.”

  “But it has such a nice view.”

  Dammit, he’s making me want to click the link again.

  I eye the phone as I flatten the first napkin at an angle and grab a set of silverware, still warm from the dishwasher.

  “You cannot buy me a house.”

  “Technically, I’d be buying US a house,” he points out.

  I set aside a wrapped silverware roll. “You cannot buy US a house.”

  “Why?” pops up on the screen as I grab another napkin.

  “Because we’re 18, for one thing. It’s not 1950; 18-year-olds do not buy homes.”

  “They do if they can afford to. My dad has turned me against renting. Real estate is a good investment. We can rent the place out or sell it if we ever want to move.”

  Ignoring his fiscal logic, I type back, “More importantly, there is no us. We are not a couple. I am not moving in with you.”

  “Then how will I help you with the late night feedings?” he sends back.

  “You’re really helping me not overthink about possibly being pregnant, thank you.”

  “Oops, sorry,” he texts back. “Let’s get back to house hunting. Look at that place and tell me if it’s big enough. I figured for a starter, it would work. After college, we might want to move.”

  “We are not moving in together,” I tell him. “And you don’t have to buy me things.”

  “I like to buy you things,” he texts back.

  I shake my head at the phone, setting aside another set of wrapped silverware and then starting on the next.

  When I haven’t responded promptly enough, Hunter texts back, “Do you work tomorrow?”

  “Sure do. Two to close.”

  “That’s lame.”

  “Agreed.” On impulse, I grab my phone and take a picture of the small silverware pyramid I’ve started to build. I attach it to the message and type, “I’m trying to work right now, but some handsome distracter keeps texting me.”

  “He sounds hot. You should go to his place after you leave.”

  I chuckle. “He does still have a couple of hours left on his day pass…”

  “Don’t tease me like that.”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” I tease.

  “Come over and find out.”

  I consider it as I wrap another roll of silverware. Mom is at work, so she wouldn’t know if I didn’t go straight home…

  I know I shouldn’t sleep with Hunter again, but I’m liking this day pass excuse. It gives me
a brief window of time to be carefree with him, but there’s an expiration date so he understands nothing has changed and I don’t have to worry so much about sending him mixed signals.

  Mom’s words from the kitchen float back to the surface of my mind.

  I don’t have commitment issues, right?

  No, of course not. That thought only crossed her mind because she doesn’t know I have a valid reason for being reluctant to commit to him. She doesn’t know about Hunter and Valerie, or me going to his house that day and asking him to leave her alone.

  Yuck, I don’t want to think about that.

  But now I am.

  I pull a face, grabbing my phone off the table and shoving it back in my apron so I won’t be tempted to look at it anymore.

  I’m still tempted when I feel the vibration and I know he’s sent another message, but I exercise better self-control this time and ignore it while I finish up with the silverware.

  Despite myself, the errant thought crosses my mind, I wonder if he ever texted her like this. Trying to coax her to come over and fuck him while his mom wasn’t home.

  If he did, she definitely went. There’s no chase with Valerie.

  Ugh.

  I feel icky now, so I continue to avoid checking my phone as I go about the rest of my closing work.

  When I get outside and the other waitress locks the door behind me, I remember that I don’t have the car tonight. I sigh, looking down the sidewalk. My feet already hurt from running around all night while we were busy. I don’t want to walk home.

  I need to start saving up for a car.

  I don’t need a nice one, just something to get me around town.

  My phone buzzes again.

  “When do you get off?” he asked.

  I sigh and text back. “I’m leaving now, but I’m heading home. I didn’t finish my weekend homework yesterday since I had to get ready for the party, and I have to work tomorrow, so I won’t have time.”

  “Long night?”

  “Yeah. My feet hurt. I think I need to buy more comfortable work shoes.”

  “Are you walking?”

  “Yep. The environment loves me,” I tell him.

  “You need to get a car.”

  “Agreed. It’s on my to-do list. I don’t have enough for a down payment yet.”

  He just sends back, “…”

  “Yes, I know you would give me money for a down payment. I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary. Thank you, though.”

  He doesn’t say anything back, so I tuck the phone in my apron and start the walk home.

  About halfway there, he sends me three links.

  “Do you like any of these?”

  I don’t even have to click them to know they’re cars, but I check them out anyway just to see what they cost. I’m not sure what percentage I’d have to put down on a car loan. Maybe I’ll ask my mom.

  I expect anything Hunter would send me to be far outside of my price range anyway, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find the first car is a used Volkswagen, a few years old with great mileage and a gorgeous midnight blue color. The best part? It’s under $10,000. I didn’t want to spend more than 5k to keep my payment reasonable, but I actually really like the car.

  I click the next link. It’s a used Lexus, also blue. This one is a year newer than the Volkswagen and gorgeous inside, but it’s also triple the price. It’s so far outside of my price range, I laugh out loud as I close the window and click the third one.

  It’s a black BMW. I see the price first, so I don’t even bother to look at the pictures.

  “You like blue cars, huh?” I ask him.

  “I can see you in a blue car,” he texts back.

  “I actually really like the first one, I’m gonna show it to my mom. It’s a little more than I planned to spend, but I might be able to make it work if I like it enough.”

  “Don’t look at the prices, look at the cars,” he sends back. “I wouldn’t have sent you a car I couldn’t buy you.”

  “You are not buying me a car,” I inform him.

  “Come on, you won’t let me buy you a house, at least let me buy you a car.”

  “No.”

  “You really like that word, don’t you?” he texts back.

  I crack a smile. “It’s my favorite.”

  “I’m gonna find a way to strip it from your vocabulary, just you wait and see.”

  My smile widens as I text back, “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

  Chapter Forty Three

  Riley

  When the doorbell rings Sunday morning, I am still in my pajamas, sitting on the couch with my mom as we debate what to do with our unexpected day off together.

  I was supposed to work today, but Deb called an hour ago and told me not to come in. Apparently, it’s a slow day and they won’t need me, after all.

  She also told me there was a change in the schedule and they won’t need me for the weekend shifts I was supposed to work next weekend. It seems a bit odd, but I haven’t worked there long. Maybe it’s not unusual to have a lot of flux in the schedule. Makes it pretty difficult to plan around work, though. Hopefully, this week is a fluke.

  I’m a little worried about only having one day of work this week, but Deb assured me I didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not being punished. It’s just a schedule change, that’s all.

  “Was Ray supposed to come over?” I ask as I walk toward the front door.

  Mom is still sitting on the couch, but she’s cross-legged and sideways, so she looks over at me. “No, he’s working today. He has in-home personal training with this tacky rich lady who keeps trying to bang him.”

  I pause and look back, surprised. “And you’re okay with this?”

  She shrugs. “She tips well. It’s not like he’s gonna do it.”

  When I open the front door, I am a bit shocked to see the flower delivery man. He has an armful of colorful flowers, all different kinds. “What is this? It’s not even Monday.”

  He flashes me a smile. “Right? I was surprised, too.”

  I take the flowers. Usually there’s a card in the bouquet, but giving them a cursory glance, I don’t see one.

  “Here you go,” the delivery man says, nabbing my attention.

  When I look back at him, he’s holding a small black envelope.

  “He wanted me to make sure you got this, so don’t lose it. I think it’s important.”

  “Got it. Thanks… what’s your name? I feel like I should probably learn your name.”

  “Ted.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ted.”

  “Your boyfriend is well on his way to being my favorite customer,” he informs me. “As a boyfriend, I’m not sure if he’s really great or really terrible, but as a customer, he gets five stars.”

  I crack a smile. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Well, my flower shop is very appreciative of your relationship, whatever it is.”

  I lean in and smell the flowers. “Mm, they’re lovely. Thanks, Ted.”

  When I turn around to walk back into the kitchen, Mom is up off the couch and she follows me. “Hunter?”

  I nod. This bouquet didn’t come with a vase, so I go to the cupboard to get one of the vases that came with his previous bouquets.

  “I take it he’s the one who sent the ones on the first day of school?”

  “He is.”

  “With that lovely note,” she adds, her tone faintly snide.

  I cringe. “Oh. Yeah, the note was…”

  “Not great.”

  “He wasn’t pleased I was dating Anderson,” I say, in an attempt to explain without giving her any unpleasant details. “He’s a bit territorial.”

  “Maybe a bit.”

  I fill the vase with water, unwrap my new bouquet, and drop them in.

  I admire the pretty arrangement for a moment, then turn my attention to my new note. I’m conscious of Mom standing right here, so I hope it doesn’t say anything too risqué.

&n
bsp; When I open the envelope, I see it’s not just a note card. There’s a credit card tucked behind it with Hunter’s name on it.

  I frown at it warily.

  “Why did he send you a credit card?” Mom asks, even warier than I am.

  I read the note card.

  Catnip,

  I know you’re reluctant to let me buy you things, but this gift isn’t just for you.

  Your mom works hard. She deserves a day of pampering, doesn’t she?

  A car will be there at noon to pick you both up.

  Go shopping, on me.

  Buy yourself comfortable shoes for work.

  The credit limit is 20k. Spend as much as you want.

  Hunter

  He found a loophole.

  If he did all this just for me, I would feel guilty accepting it, but…

  I could never do something like this for my mom on my own, and she does deserve it.

  Sighing, I turn around and go back to the living room without a word. I grab my phone off the coffee table and shoot him a text.

  “Does this gift come with strings?”

  He texts back right away. “I want a weekend pass. My mom’s gone again next weekend. I want you to stay over. I want you all to myself. No work, no Sara, no plans I don’t get to be a part of.”

  “That’s a big ask, Hunter. I don’t think my mom will let me spend a whole weekend at your house.”

  “That’s my price,” he says simply. “Take it or leave it.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip, considering.

  “Before you make your decision, think about how stress-free and relaxed your mom will feel at the spa, getting a facial, having years’ worth of stress worked out of her muscles…”

  “Spa?”

  “After shopping, you’re going to a spa.”

  Dammit.

  I sigh. “I’ll do my best. I can’t promise anything, though. If she says I can’t stay the night…”