Mom kissed my cheek as she passed me. “Well, I’m glad you’re home, Mia. I missed you.”

Then I really did feel guilt.

My mother was a sweet woman, a kind, God-fearing woman, who went to church once during the week and on Sundays too. But sometimes, she was just too much. I preferred to remain drama-free and, not surprisingly, my time away at college and away from Mom was perfectly lacking in excitement.

Her drama usually came in the form of being too mothering, too needy, and trying to set me up with every man she deemed good enough. To this day, I had yet to attend a single date my mother had organized, and she still persisted. However, there was that one time I came home from college to find an extra addition at the table. Poor Marty. I spent the evening apologizing to him with my eyes. Needless to say, I never saw him again.

We sat at the table, and while Mom served the sandwiches, I opened the bag of potato chips. Mom poured our drinks and we started to eat. She watched me carefully with her hawk-eye vision. “Have you lost more weight?”

Chewing slowly, I nodded.

She sighed. “I don’t think that’s healthy, Mia.”

I fought to roll my eyes. This was one of those overbearing times. “I started to lose weight because my doctor told me I had started to develop sleep apnea, Mom. That’s a very dangerous condition caused by being overweight. He told me what I needed to lose, and I haven’t even reached my goal weight yet.” She eyed me still, so I reassured her, “I’m the healthiest I’ve been. And I feel good.”

She almost pouted. “I thought you looked very sweet when you were husky.”

Then I did roll my eyes. “I wasn’t husky, Ma. I was fat.”

The front door opened. “Ma?”

Harry was here. I silently thanked God for helping me share the mother-load, pun intended.

Mom stood and beamed. “We’re in the kitchen, honey. Come sit. I’ll make you some lunch.”

Harry walked through the door wearing his basketball gear. He spotted me and waltzed over, snatching the other half of my sandwich off my plate and eating half of it in one bite.

I guarded the half in my hands by eating quickly and garbling, “Hey!”

Harry garbled back. Stuffing the last piece in his mouth, he somehow muttered, “C’mon, Mia. I’m so hungry.” I understood what he said, even though it came out, ‘G’mon, M’a. I’mf ser ‘ungry.’

Taking a big bite of my sandwich, Harry went to snatch the remainder away, but I slapped his hand. He turned to Mom. “Ma, Mia hit me.”

Without looking up from her sandwich-making, Mom muttered distractedly, “Mia, be nice to your brother.”

He held out his hand for my sandwich. I took the bag of chips from the table and threw them at him. He was a monster when he was hungry. Taking a handful of chips, he shoved them into his mouth, moaning and crunching away.

My phone vibrated on the table. I checked it discreetly.

Quinn: What’s the deal with ‘bless you?’ I mean, a person sneezes and you say ‘bless you.’ Do we even have that kind of authority?

I snorted a laugh, choking on my sandwich. Coughing until my eyes watered, I sipped at my juice, ignoring the piece of bread lodged in my nasal cavity, and responded.

Me:  That’s a good point. Next time I hear someone say ‘bless you,’ I’m going to ask for their divine credentials.

Before I placed my phone down, I got a response.

Quinn: I know, right? See? I knew you’d get it. x

At that very moment, my mother sneezed. My brother uttered, “Bless you.” And without missing a beat, I turned to him and stated, “I’m going to need to see your qualifications.” Then I laughed.

Mom placed another sandwich in front of me and two in front of my brother, and sat to resume eating. “How was work, honey?”

Harry shrugged. “Work is work, Ma. I’m underpaid and overworked. It’s as good as it can be.”

Harry worked as a bartender at one of the local city haunts, Wild Fire. It wasn’t quite a bar, but it also wasn’t a club; it was something in-between, where you could go for a beer, or a glass of wine, or a cocktail, and you could even order a meal. They did it all. Harry worked well into the early hours of the morning most nights and slept almost all day. The lucky bastard.

It also probably helped that Harry loved women. Every time he sent me photos while I was in college, there was a newer, younger, prettier version of the last girl perched on his lap. It was obvious these women were nothing but a bit of fun. I knew this, because if they had been more, Harry would want us to meet her, to approve of her. I knew my brother well, and he did not want to settle down. Not yet anyway.

Harry’s phone chimed and, still eating, he took it out of his pocket and checked it. He responded quickly then announced, “Quinn’s coming over.”

Already finished with her sandwich, Mom stood, kissing Harry’s head as she passed. “Of course. I’ll make him something to eat. You boys are helpless at feeding yourselves.”

My face had paled. Quinn was coming here? I tried to play it cool, but my heart was thumping in my chest. “He’s coming here? When?” And why?

Harry leaned back in his chair, patting his full stomach. “Yeah, sometimes he meets me here and we go play a round of ball. He said he was ten minutes away.”

Shit. Oh, God. Shit.

I stood up so fast that my chair almost tipped backwards. “Darn, is that the time? I forgot I have a-a-a…thing. I have to go.” Walking forward, I kissed my mother on the cheek and slapped my brother across the back of the head. Harry scowled at me while Mom called out, “Wait! How will you get home?”

Opening the front door, I yelled out, “Bus!” and then I was gone.

Crap.

That was close.

It took me two buses and a fair walk to get home, and when I finally did, I was exhausted. I opened my apartment and then checked my phone. There was a message waiting.

Harry: What is up with you? You were so weird today. Even more than usual.

Closing the door behind me, I replied with a smirk.

Me: I have my period.

My phone chimed and I laughed as I read the response.

Harry: This conversation never happened.

I guessed that was the text message version of blocking one’s ears and yelling, ‘La-la-la-la-la-la-la!’

That’ll teach him.

My afternoon passed quickly. I spoke to my one college friend, Wanda, a journalism major who was currently working for a local news station in Chicago. Our basic conversation went like this:

“Working is hard. Living is hard. Being a grownup sucks. I want money.”

To tell the truth, it was kind of nice to hear it wasn’t completely roses for Wanda. I felt normal in being dissatisfied with my current life. I couldn’t wait to start working. I pegged my downward attitude to the fact I had been out of college for a while, and coming home meant giving up my job as a barista, so I had nothing to occupy my time.

Plain and simple, I was bored.

I took my laptop out and opened the email from George Maine at Addison Inc. He’d listed a few businesses I’d want to better acquaint myself with, so that was what I did.

It was amazing what you could find online. Not only was I able to find out the basics of each of the companies and who to speak to, but also where they were at with popularity and how they were trending currently. Before I knew it, it was eleven p.m. Taking off my clothes and dressing in my sleep shirt, I hopped into bed and reached for my phone.

Me: Why do I feel as though I’m completely vulnerable to the bedroom monsters with one foot out of the covers? Now, throw a sheet over said foot, and voila...I’m invincible!

I didn’t wait for a response. I couldn’t. I fell asleep a minute after I hit send.