Anchored: A Lesbian Romance by Jen Clarke & Kat Fletcher

Author:Jen Clarke & Kat Fletcher [Clarke, Jen & Fletcher, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“My parents’ place is up there, but it’s better to park down here,” I explain as I pull the emergency brake. People think of the beach when they think of Cape Cod, but my parents’ neighborhood is hilly and full of trees.

“Should we have taken my car? It’s better with hills,” Bri asks.

“Oh no, my car isn’t that bad. Getting up the driveway isn’t the problem,” I explain, flipping down the sun visor and checking my face in the mirror. “I just don’t want to get parked in.”

Things between Bri and I have been weird. I haven’t wanted to ask her about her latest vlog and what went on between her and Emily. Actually, she started to tell me, but I kept interrupting until she stopped. When I invited her to my mom’s party, I kept telling her she didn’t have to go, but she insisted. It doesn’t make any sense. Why does she want to go? I don’t want to go. Maybe she wants to talk about the celebratory rituals of the native Cape Codder on her vlog. I glance nervously at her.

“What?” Bri asks.

“Nothing,” I reply. “Are you ready?”

“Is there a rush?” Bri asks.

“No, no rush.” I hastily get out of the car, hoping she’ll follow. The driveway up the hill isn’t long, but I’m sure we can manage to have a fight along the way. The quicker we get inside the house, the better. I take a deep breath and glance at Bri before ringing the doorbell.

“Ellen!” my mother says, reaching out to give me a quick hug. “Everyone is going to be so glad to see you. Just the other day, I was saying to Marge that I haven’t seen you in months…”

“Not months, Mom,” I plead. “Let me introduce you to Bri. Bri Waters.”

“This is your friend?” She looks Bri up and down. “That’s some hair.”

“Thanks,” Bri says. “I just dyed it.”

I’m sure my mother didn’t intend her words as a compliment and I wonder if Bri is oblivious or simply unwilling to acknowledge her. “Wow, something smells great Mom,” I say.

“Well, let me show you what we have,” she says. We follow her past the living room and into the kitchen. On the laminate counter, there’s two bowls of chips, the dip, which I know is French onion and several Chinet plates of my mother’s sandwiches in mini sub rolls. My mother makes an annoyed noise when she notices plastic wrap on the last plate and hastily begins taking it off.

“All of this looks great,” I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I am.

“It looks good to me too,” Bri agrees. The room seems too small for her. Even though she’s standing in the middle of the floor, I expect the folds of her coat to brush against the counter and knock something over. She turns her head. I notice the sun catchers hanging from the window are dusty.

“That plate’s tuna, this plate’s chicken,” my mother explains as the doorbell rings. “And that last plate has onions.

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