Page 48 of Play With Me

It was my favourite part of the day. Just us, makin’ a mess.

Lou sounded like a muppet when she responded, “Yep!”

Oh my god, Louisa, just open the goddamned note, I can see you looking at it.

“I actually have bread in the oven, so I need to get back,” she added.

Has said, “Wait, you have the oven on, and you’re not there?” at the same time as I said, “You don’t even have an oven.”

“Uhhh, I do have a kiln,” she sneered, “You guys are fucking idiots.”

But as she turned to go out the door, our eyes met, and hers were full of mirth. She winked like she knew something I didn’t and strode confidently into the hallway, “POOP” scrawled across her perfect ass.

I laughed aloud and held my fist out for Has.

“I’d feel bad if I thought she was even remotely embarrassed, but I think I’m more embarrassed for her than she is for herself,” he said.

A few hours later, we were in the truck on our way to pick Lou up, and Has got a call from her.

“Where are you? I can hardly hear you… What do you mean you can’t come? … Lou, you are 90% done with the pieces you need … Will and I will wedge—‘’ I shook my head vehemently. Absolutely not. Lou had forearms like Popeye. Wedging for bulk production was not my idea of fun. “—You what? … The whole thing? … Aww, babe, I’m sorry … We can do it tomorrow. You and I both know you’re not going to catch a cab later, Louisa May,” he was upset. … “Fine. Happy Thanksgiving … I love you, too.” He hung up. Probably would have felt better if he could have slammed the phone down.

“Bummer,” I said. Hasan grunted. “What happened?”

“She lost an entire shelving unit of bisque-ware. Apparently, it collapsed on itself under the weight,” he said, obviously feeling bad for her. He fiddled with the air vents.

Louisa had been preparing for the Christmas Market, which ran in Downtown Boston throughout December. She was working her ass off to make sure she had enough pieces available until the 25th. “Handmade pottery is the easiest last-minute gift,” she’d told me. That much of a loss was devastating. I guessed I’d end up wedging after all.

“It’s just a convenient excuse. She doesn’t like family shit. It makes her feel like she missed something growing up,” he sighed, shifting his big legs around in the passenger footwell. “I’m sure next year will be better because we’ll have the house. We can have you over.”

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have had any family traditions or holiday dinners as a kid. I was glad they had each other, even if it was painful to think of them making a home together. I slowed at a stop sign.

He continued, “I suspected she would bail last minute, but then earlier—Louisa’s never made bread before. I thought maybe she was looking forward to it.” He rested his head back on the seat. “Stupid.”

My heart lurched.

It stung a bit that she didn’t want to meet my family. I’d get it if I were introducing her as my girlfriend—that would be her worst nightmare—but I’d felt like we were making good progress as friends, and friends aren’t weird about meeting family.

“Do you want to turn around? We can go try to convince her?” I asked him. I slowed and pulled off to the side of the street so he knew I was serious. I had wanted her to be there, too.

“Nah. It is weird though. You know what she asked me the other day?” He didn’t wait for me to guess. “If I thought she would be a bad mom,” he scoffed. “She has never asked me anything like that before.” He scratched his fingers through his beard on both sides.

“What did you tell her?” I asked, flicking on my turn signal to merge back into traffic.

“I told her she’d be an amazing mom, which is true,” he said, looking out the window. “She’s so smart and creative. Her kids would be absolute terrors.”

Strange that he didn’t say “our kids.”

When I think of Louisa’s kids, I think “our kids.” Just by default.

Lord help us. I think yer the strange one here, lad.

“Louisa has this incredibly deep capacity for love that she blows off with humor.”

“You think she’s blowing it off?” I asked. It seemed like a love language to me.

“Yeah. I think she’s avoiding family because hers failed her. I’d never tell her this, but it breaks my heart to think of her growing old without ever knowing a single person related to her by blood.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. I wondered if she ever had. I pulled down my old street.