Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(68)
Reshma smiled and nodded.
“I’m not here because of an experiment thing. I’m here because of a you thing.”
They lay there, flat on their backs, sun beaming down on them, party raging all around them, but it felt quiet. Slowly, Clio inched her left hand toward Reshma, closing the gap between them. Reshma met her in the middle. Gently, their pinky fingers brushed against each other’s. A wave of tingly warmth rushed through Reshma. And Clio? Clio gasped. She must’ve felt something, too.
They turned their heads toward each other, staring in wonder.
“Let’s get outta here,” said Reshma.
Chapter 28
“Audre Audre Bo-Baudre!”
“Hi, Dad.”
“You sound weird.”
“I wonder why.”
“Are you ever going to forgive me? I told you, honey, I didn’t choose my unborn son over you. I really didn’t.”
“You literally did, though.”
“We just didn’t have room in the cottage this summer. I was thinking of you. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t even give it a chance, Dad!”
“This decision was about logistics only. If I had a bigger house, you could’ve come.”
“But I would’ve stayed in a sleeping bag on the floor. I would’ve slept in the bathtub.”
“I promise you, Audre. I’ll make it up to you once your brother’s born.”
Her brother. Dreading this addition to her already sprawling, complicated family, Audre slid from her sitting position on the couch down to the floor. And there, she stayed. Sprawled flat on her back on the living room rug, surrounded by soft baby books and stuffies—and still in her pajamas at noon. Thankfully, she had the house to herself. She didn’t know where the rest of the Mercy-Moore-Halls were, but she hoped they stayed there a while.
In the meantime, her dad was talking at her. He hadn’t reached out to her in two weeks. What was the point of him calling her now? Unless it was to admit he’d ruined her life, and/or to change his mind about Dadifornia, though that probably wasn’t the case (after all, it was almost August).
Honestly, she wasn’t that interested in what her dad had to say.
“Your brother’s due date is approaching,” said Troy, overflowing with glee.
“Great.”
“Audre, I know it was a shock. But what’s done is done! You can’t un-ring a bell.”
You can’t un-ring a bell. Her dad wasn’t a philosophical kind of guy, but she had to admit that was a smart line. Audre made a mental note to remember it.
“We keep a list of baby names on a dry-erase board in the kitchen,” he was saying. “Athena always thinks of great ones while she’s teaching her prenatal yoga class. Exciting stuff, isn’t it?”
“Thrilling.”
“Well,” he started, “don’t you want to hear them?”
Audre exhaled noisily. “Hear what, Dad?”
“The names. We’re leaning toward Canyon, Wisdom, or Truth.”
Audre stared up at the ceiling, resisting the urge to say something bitchy.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think those are perfect names.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, if you’re raising a toxic barista.”
“Haha. I know you’re making fun. But I bet you didn’t know that Athena’s very active on CoffeeTok.”
“Then everybody wins,” muttered Audre. “Dad, Mom said something weird to me yesterday. She said there’s a lot I don’t know about her. What did she mean?”
“Well, I couldn’t possibly know. Maybe you should ask her?”
“We’re not in the best place,” she said, slowly spinning her cameo ring around her finger. She wondered if her ancestors had ever fought their moms to the death. Surely not. Too busy being iconic. “Actually, we’ve been fighting a lot.”
“You two? Lorelai and Rory Gilmore?”
“Dad, you know I don’t like it when you call us that. I love Gilmore Girls, but we’re not them. It’s a very narrow, white feminist version of single motherhood.”
“Yes, you’ve pointed this out to me. Several times,” he said gently. “I just meant that you and your mom can talk about anything. I’m surprised.”
“Well, this summer’s been full of ’em,” she said. “Mom gets so mad at me when I get the smallest taste of freedom. And I just want to know why. What makes her be so… unfair to me.”
“Maybe she’s stressed about editing her new book. Isn’t Back to Belle Fleur about her life, her mom’s life, and her grandma’s life? Memoirs must be hard to write. Like one long therapy session.”
Audre stopped fiddling with her ring. Abruptly, she sat upright.
One long therapy session. The book! Of course.
She was so stupid. The answers were probably right in front of her, in her mom’s manuscript. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She needed to read the book. Her mom said she’d “explain everything” to her before it published, but Audre couldn’t wait. (And what did that even mean?) The Post-its, Grandma Lizette’s bizarre name slipups at the bridal boutique… she craved answers.