Free Crave: A BWWM Romance by Sadie Black

in love. She is moving in on Monday and I would like you to help.”
    I lowered myself back into my chair. I could barely feel the motion of it. Instead, I felt a thousand miles away, hovering over the golf course from space. This must be what an out-of-body experience feels like.
    “Uh, ok,” I said.
    “Ok?”
    “Yeah. Ok. But…just…don’t you think this is moving just a little fast? You have to be messing with me.”
    “I’m really not. I promise you, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t feel it was the right thing.”
    “You hate feelings.”
    “Not this time. At my age Cole, you start living again or you get ready to die. I’m living.”
    I watched his expression closely, trying to appraise his take on this entire situation. I had no shortage of legitimate concerns. Was she in it for the money? A scam artist or gold digger of some kind? Was this just a stupid mistake that they would both regret the moment they see each other in the harsh light of New England? Whatever it was, it was clearly making him happy. I had no right to deny him that. If she could keep him from dying the slow country club death that he’d resigned himself to many years ago, then maybe it’s not all bad. At this point, any change, no matter how jarring, was evidence of new life. I could get behind that. Plus, if I was appropriately understanding, maybe he’d let me skip on the “playing golf” part of the afternoon.

9
    Moneka
    W hen I had told Sonia that my Mom was moving out of her condo, she kept commenting on how ‘sad’ it was. I never thought about it being sad. I mostly thought about how little I approved of everything that was happening. I supposed that, in the movies, when the parents fly the coop, it’s sad for some people. Childhood memories get relegated to storage or sold to strangers. Pieces of the life you had before you were an adult are no longer preserved like a museum exhibit. That wasn’t my experience. I’d never lived in this condo. Mom bought it seven years ago after Kaila and I had gone to college. It wasn’t even sad then since we had moved so many times as children, chasing that most mythical of beasts, reasonable rent.
    Helping my mother move was, therefore, not a particularly emotional experience. Unless the emotion in question is frustration. Right now, Kaila and I were packing the last of her boxes while she made half-hearted attempts to help us. To her credit, she had done most of the work over the weekend and I knew that she was very excited to move. However, the moving truck was due to arrive in less than two hours, and her kitchen wasn’t finished. I was tempted to yell at her that if she wanted to move in with this stranger so badly, she should try harder to get the job done.
    “Mom, help me with these glasses. If you wrap them in the bubble wrap, I can work on fitting them into this box.” I tried very little to conceal my irritation.
    “Of course, sweet-pea.” She picked up a glass and began wrapping it with one of the pieces I’d torn. As her fingers traced the design on the side, a far-away look crept into her eyes. “Oh you remember these?”
    “Yes Mom.” She had asked me if I remembered something about three thousand times this morning already. That was why she was incapable of being productive. I found it best, at this point, to just say yes whether I remembered or not.
    “That was such a lovey gift. Oh that party was fantastic wasn’t it? Best Christmas party I’ve ever thrown. Sherrie and Tucker from downstairs both got sick over the balcony. You remember that?”
    “Yes Mom.”
    “And they’d been drinking from different eggnog bowls? Sherrie liked it spicy so he had the one with the red dye and Tucker had the green one? They’re vomit was red and green.”
    “It was very festive if I recall.” Kaila called from the dining room where she was carefully laying out decorative plates.”
    “Mom.” I placed my hand on hers to draw her out of memory lane. “You’re not