I grab my jeans again, searching for my phone, but it’s not there. I climb off her, lying on the floor, searching under the couch for my phone.
“What are you doing?” I can feel her eyes on me as I search.
If my screen wasn’t lit up, I don’t know if I would’ve seen it near the back leg, but as I reach for it, the ringing ends.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I redial the number.
I hold my phone between my shoulder and ear, grabbing my jeans from the floor and pulling them on.
“What are you doing?” she repeats, but this time she sounds angry.
“I have to go.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She sits up. “We’re in the middle of something. You’re literally still hard, and you’re gonna leave?”
“I have to go.”
“Unbelievable.”
I get no answer. I redial again.
I slip on my shoes, grab my shirt off the floor, and take my keys off the hook.
“You can let yourself out.”
six
Zeke
What are you doing here?” My mom sets down her book.
“You fainted.” I’m still out of breath from the trip down here. There’s nothing scarier than having to drive for over an hour, not knowing if your mom’s okay.
“I didn’t faint.” She sighs. “I lost my balance in the bathroom, and they made it a huge deal. I told them not to call you.”
“And I told them to call me anytime something happens. I guess we know which one of us they listen to.”
“You’re supposed to be in class.”
“Being here is more important to me.”
I avoid telling her I was missing class regardless.
“Not if your grades slip, Zeke.” She points to the chair beside her, which usually means it’s time for one of her talks.
“Mom.” I groan, staying where I am.
“Sit.” She points again, but this time I oblige. “If your grades slip, you’ll be benched for next Saturday’s game. The first game of the season, Zeke. And what will the Red Wings think if they hear that? They’ll think they made a mistake drafting you, Zeke.”
“My grades are fine, mom.”
“They better be. I’ve been telling everyone here that my son’s going to be a professional hockey player for my favorite team.” She smiles. “Well, I guess whatever team you’re playing for will be my favorite.”
“They could still decide not to sign me after I graduate. There’s no guarantee that—”
“Well, that’d be a huge mistake on their part. Because if they don’t sign you, I will haunt every one of them.”
“Mom,” I mumble. “You won’t be able to do that because you’ll be there when I sign that contract, okay?”