Rayne & Delilah's Midnite Matinee(32)

“Your mom is a trip. I mean…”

“I have been begging her to get back on her meds because she’s a manageable level of flaky when she’s on them. She can function.” The air in Josie’s car is stagnant, so I roll down my window. The breeze that blows in is humid but cool and green-smelling, in that hopeful way of spring. It almost feels like it’s mocking me with its cheery, verdant optimism.

“Do you need me to help you hold her down and force-feed her? I legit will.”

“How about if she loses her job and we become homeless, you let me come live under your bed in your dorm at UT Martin?”

“What about her?”

“She can do whatever. I don’t care,” I mutter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“It gets exhausting mothering my mother.”

“I hear you,” Josie says. “But let me just say that having a mother who is always a mother is overrated.”

“Trade you.”

“I totally would. Remember how after you found out Devin had hooked up with Kylie Miller, she let you stay home from school, forged a doctor’s note, made you fried cheesecake bites, and rented The Room to cheer you up?”

The memory makes me smile in spite of myself. “Remember how she accidentally put windshield washer fluid where the oil is supposed to go in our car and made the engine melt so we had to eat peanut butter sandwiches for dinner for a month and a half?”

“Remember when Principal Ward brought your mom in for a parent meeting after you got caught ditching too many times and she called him Principal Wardhog to his face?”

“Remember when she tried to pet a possum that had gotten under our porch?”

“Your mom isn’t perfect, but she’s pretty great.”

“It’s different when you have to live it,” I say.

“She’s always in your corner.”

“Let’s change the subject.” Josie’s right, and it’s making me sad coming up with arguments against my mom’s awesomeness. Venting about her to Josie allows me to let it go and also enables me to see my mom’s good side again.

“Fair enough,” Josie says. “Wanna stop at Books-A-Million on the way home?”

“I wish, but I gotta get home and ride my mom’s ass.”

We drive in silence for a while.

“You rocked tonight, by the way,” Josie says.

“I practiced my lines at work and did some vocal warm-ups before you picked me up.”

My heart revs with a quick surge of excitement. It feels like the kind where you’re sitting there and out of nowhere, this rogue wave of contentment and joy washes over you. Maybe it’s connected to something you’re looking forward to that day. A package. A three-day weekend. A movie. A reassurance. It’s always something small. And the wave is gone as soon as it comes, but in that moment, it’s glorious. Like maybe everything will be okay. For a second it washes away every care and your heart is clean before the worries come flooding back.

“Look at you. Upping the game for Jack Divine!” Josie says.

“Pretty much. And for us. Upping the game in general.”

We stop at a red light, and Josie looks deep in thought.

“What?” I ask.

“What what?”

“You have your obviously-thinking-about-something look.”

She waves it off. “I’ve been formulating a theory.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m not sure it’s ready for sharing.”

“You do realize we were literally just exposing a bunch of people to Werewolf in a Girls’ Dormitory, right? Like, the ship of only sharing things that are ready for sharing has sailed.”

“So my theory is that all men have either a fox face or a tiger face.”

“A fox face or…”

“For example, Benedict Cumberbatch—fox face. Ryan Gosling—fox face. Channing Tatum—tiger face. Idris Elba—tiger face.”

I nod slowly, testing the theory in my head. “So it’s not just good-looking guys get tiger and ugly guys get fox.”

“No. Foxes are cute. But they have different faces from tigers.”

“This theory is both amazing and completely useless.”

“There’s some very important work going on in this car. We are advancing science here,” Josie says.

“Okay, Lawson?” It might be my imagination, but Josie’s face turns rosy.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“Oh, really?”

“Haven’t thought about it.”

“Not even a little? As you were formulating the theory?”

Josie sort of shrugs and gives a why should I have been thinking about the guy who clearly adores me frown. “I guess I’d say…tiger,” she murmurs. “Yeah. Tiger.”

“Yeah. Tiger,” I say in a gauzy, dreamy voice.

“That is not how I talk.”

“It so is. Lawson and Josie, sittin’ in a tree—”

“Oh yeah? Well, Delia and the Idiot Twins, sittin’ in a tree—”

“K-i-s-s-i-n-g,” I sing.

“S-u-c-k-i-n-g,” Josie sings over me.

We both crumble into laughter and we’re barely able to catch our breath before we get to my dark and empty house.