Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I have so many memories of this place. It’s always been a safe space for me, and I know I am lucky. As often as my mother and I disagree—which is often—I never doubted that I was loved. My brother moved to Boston years ago for work. We’re not close. But I know if I called, he would answer.
“Hello there.” Mom is packing the dishwasher when I wander into their kitchen in the afternoon. Just being here calms me down some. Coming here was a good choice. I inherited the buxom and blond from Mom. She was born in Denmark; her family moved to America when she was five. Just old enough to remember the harsh winter weather. The worry line instantly appears between her brows at the sight of me. We have that in common. “I didn’t hear your car in the driveway, Lilah.”
I lower the cold brew from my lips. “My car was in a slight accident yesterday.”
“How slight? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “You didn’t hear the car because I’m Ubering around at present. The Prius won’t get assessed until Wednesday. But I doubt the news will be good.”
“Honey,” says my dad, coming in from the front room. “I thought I heard your voice.”
“Hey, Dad.”
There didn’t used to be a whole lot of hugging and kissing in my family. Neither of my parents are touchy-feely people. Once my brother and I moved out and got on with our own lives, however, that started to change. It’s funny how family cultures evolve. How certain practices get passed down often without any real thought. None of my grandparents were especially affectionate either. I don’t know if they felt it was awkward or unnecessary or what. But I like that we’ve started being more demonstrative.
“What’s this I hear about a car accident?” he asks.
“It’s a long story, but basically, I was distracted and drove into a concrete bollard. I’m fine, but my car is not.”
While Mom has her worry line, Dad has his sigh. Both are effective in their own ways.
“But wait,” I say. “I have two more announcements to make.”
Dad leans his hip against the kitchen island. “We’re all ears.”
“Josh and I broke up.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look. One of those loaded parental glances. Like there’s a lot they could say on the subject, but they’re debating the wisdom of sharing their true thoughts and feelings.
“He was never good enough for you,” says Dad, making his mind up fast. “You know those people that talk fast but say nothing?”
“Babe,” says Mom in a wary tone.
Dad throws up his hands. “It’s the truth.”
“How are you feeling about it, Lilah?” asks Mom, wiping her hands on a cloth.
I down more of my cold brew and think it over. “I was upset at the time. But now I think I’m actually okay.”
“That means it was the right choice,” says Dad.
Mom nods wisely. “He was too normal for you, to be honest. A bit boring. You know what I mean?”
“No, I do not know what you mean.” I laugh. “How was he too normal? Does that make me abnormal? Please explain it to me, Mother.”
“What’s the other news?” asks Dad, coming in with a diversion. He obviously has no interest in watching a girl fight. As much as he enjoys a good debate, he hates to see us disagree.
“Oh. Um. I won the lotto,” I say. “Not the top prize, but not a shabby amount either. I got five numbers.”
“Five? Wow. How about that!”
Mom cocks her head. “That’s amazing. But you don’t gamble. You always said you couldn’t afford another bad habit, with what you spend on books and shoes.”
“That’s true.” I take another sip of coffee to buy myself time. “It was just... The thing is...”
“Yes?”
I hesitate and prevaricate and all the rest. Telling them just doesn’t seem like a good idea.
“Who cares? Call it a random stroke of luck,” proclaims my father with a grin. “Congratulations, honey. What are you going to do with the money?”
“It’s about a quarter of a million after tax. I’m not sure yet. I think I’m still in shock.”
“Lilah! That’s incredible!” gushes Mom with wide eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Possibly life-changing. It might not feel real until you see it in your account. I could make you an appointment with our financial planner,” Dad says. “You let me know if you’re interested.”
“As long as you’re not going to spend all your time hanging out at casinos from now on,” says Mom. “I had an uncle like that. He would set his alarm to wake him at two in the morning. He had this theory that less people in the casino meant more luck to go around. It was sad to see him throw his life away. You’re not going to start doing that sort of thing, are you?”