Practice Practice Practice - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Martin didn't look at his phone until Saturday afternoon. He'd been dreading it, expecting a slew of text messages and missed calls from Tommy. When he finally looked at the screen there was just one message from Elizabeth. Hey, I think Becka needs me for girl time. Mind ifI rain check our weekend plans? He texted back, np, and rolled over, pulling the sheets tight. He buried his head and tried to force himself back to sleep, but as he breathed in all he smelled was Tommy. Fuck this. He threw the sheets off and jumped out of bed.

He was only wearing boxer briefs, but he didn't pause to grab any clothes as he started stripping the sheets, blankets, and pillow cases. When the mattress was naked, he bundled everything in a big ball and walked over to search blindly for the door handle. He marched the bedding down the stairs and across the hall that connected the living and dining rooms in his mom's duplex. In the dark corner that led to the garage he turned to the laundry room and pushed open the door with his bare foot.

The lid on the washer was up and the inside was empty so he dumped in the sheets, added the soap and started the machine. A moment later he was standing in the hall, taking a deep breath of the clear air. "Were you mad at your bed sheets?" Martin jumped at the sound of his mom's voice. He looked over at the dining room. She sat at the table with a cup of coffee and her laptop, the light through the sliding glass door behind her making her long, nordic hair glow white. Suddenly Martin felt naked and he awkwardly moved his hands in front of his underwear.

She scoffed and said, "Don't worry, I've seen it all before." "Mom!" Martin groaned and crossed back to the stairs. She called after him, "Do you want a coffee?" He shouted back, angrily, "Yes, thank you!" He found a clean t-shirt and some sweatpants, and then he came back down and sat in front of the coffee that waited for him on the table. His mom smiled, but didn't say anything as she continued typing. Nora was still in her thirties and worked as a bookkeeper for a small law office.

She used to help the lawyers with financial cases, beyond just handling their expenses and taxes, but Martin hadn't asked her about her work since before they moved the previous summer, so he had no idea if that was still true. "Did something happen to your phone?" she asked him. "No. Why?" She shrugged and kept working as she said, "It's just been years since I've seen a teenager without one. It's like a beautiful rare bird." He rolled his eyes, "It's charging." She said, "Ah," and nodded as she sipped her coffee in a way that told him she did not believe him.