Read Online Checked by Jennifer Jamelli - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Jamelli
Tags: Humor, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, New Adult & College
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shower.
It’s almost 3:00 in the morning when I am finally back in my pajamas. Just as I am climbing into bed, my phone buzzes. Does he actually know that I’m still up?
One. Two. Three. Open text.
Please, Calista.
{Roberta Flack keeps singing her refrain. Repeating and repeating.} I put the phone back down on my dresser, and I put myself back in bed.
At some point, hours later I’m sure, the voices on the television finally morph into my soft, soothing lullaby, and I fall asleep.
MY ALARM RINGS ALL TOO soon. Wednesday morning. {Roberta Flack transforms completely into Lauryn Hill. Same song but in hip-hop now.}
My cell phone is ringing. Now he’s calling me? It’s only 7:30 in the morning! Give me a second to breathe.
It’s not him. I answer.
“Hey, Melanie.”
“Morning, Callie. Quick story for you.”
I smile. “An Abby story?”
“What other stories do I have time to observe these days? Yep, Abby.”
I listen. I love Abby stories. Her views on life are pretty hilarious. Her more recent funny comments have involved school mishaps. Some stories we call OCD moments because Abby does have some obsessive-compulsive tendencies. When she does something that reminds Melanie of me, Melanie calls. My favorite call came a few years ago when Mel heard Abby screaming in the bathtub. Melanie ran to the bathroom and found Abby lining up all of her toy ducks on the bath ledge. Melanie asked her what was wrong, and Abby said that she needed to go to the potty. Melanie told her to get out and go. But Abby resumed her screaming, saying she couldn’t go until all the ducks were lined up. Melanie told her that the ducks could wait and that she should stop and go to the potty. To this Abby exclaimed, “Mommy, you just don’t understand.”
Priceless. The girl literally had to get her ducks in a row before she could go to the potty.
Today’s story isn’t duck or OCD-related however.
“I picked Abby up from daycare yesterday, and her face was streaked with blue paint. I asked her if she had fun, but she must’ve seen me examining her blue face. She hurried to reassure me, saying, ‘It just happened while I was painting, Mommy. I’m not turning into a Smurf.’”
I laugh. Hilarious.
“I love it, Mel. That is adorable.”
“Just thought I’d try to start your day with a smile before your big appointment.”
I ignore the appointment reference.
“You definitely did. Thanks, Mel. Give Abby a kiss for me. She’s coming with you on Friday, right?”
“Oh, yes. She’s already packed her bag.”
“Awesome. I’ll see you both then.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I’m so glad Melanie brings Abby to Girls’ Night every other week. I wish I could spend even more time with her.
Phone back on dresser. Time to start the day. And almost time for my cancellation phone call.
The office probably won’t be open until at least 9:00 a.m. so I grab a 200-calorie breakfast bar and start plugging away at my morning routine.
10:30 a.m. I’m getting my supplies (dish soap and window cleaner) ready to clean my bathroom, and my phone buzzes.
Unknown Number…again.
Count. Open.
Five minutes? Can you give me that? After that, I can send your paperwork directly over to Spencer’s office. Really. Please.
UGHHH . I know I’m going to give in. He doesn’t need to beat himself up this much over the purse. He didn’t do it on purpose. I know.
Besides, he seems to already have plenty of things to make him sad. {There go those Soggy Bottom Boys with “Man of Constant Sorrow.” } He pissed me off, but I don’t need to add to his troubles—whatever they are. With my luck, something bad will happen to him, and I’ll read about it in the paper. A car crash. A fall. A house fire. Something. I don’t want to feel responsible for that. None of that.
I hit reply.
Fine.
Count. Send.
Another beep from my phone. A new message
It’s almost 3:00 in the morning when I am finally back in my pajamas. Just as I am climbing into bed, my phone buzzes. Does he actually know that I’m still up?
One. Two. Three. Open text.
Please, Calista.
{Roberta Flack keeps singing her refrain. Repeating and repeating.} I put the phone back down on my dresser, and I put myself back in bed.
At some point, hours later I’m sure, the voices on the television finally morph into my soft, soothing lullaby, and I fall asleep.
MY ALARM RINGS ALL TOO soon. Wednesday morning. {Roberta Flack transforms completely into Lauryn Hill. Same song but in hip-hop now.}
My cell phone is ringing. Now he’s calling me? It’s only 7:30 in the morning! Give me a second to breathe.
It’s not him. I answer.
“Hey, Melanie.”
“Morning, Callie. Quick story for you.”
I smile. “An Abby story?”
“What other stories do I have time to observe these days? Yep, Abby.”
I listen. I love Abby stories. Her views on life are pretty hilarious. Her more recent funny comments have involved school mishaps. Some stories we call OCD moments because Abby does have some obsessive-compulsive tendencies. When she does something that reminds Melanie of me, Melanie calls. My favorite call came a few years ago when Mel heard Abby screaming in the bathtub. Melanie ran to the bathroom and found Abby lining up all of her toy ducks on the bath ledge. Melanie asked her what was wrong, and Abby said that she needed to go to the potty. Melanie told her to get out and go. But Abby resumed her screaming, saying she couldn’t go until all the ducks were lined up. Melanie told her that the ducks could wait and that she should stop and go to the potty. To this Abby exclaimed, “Mommy, you just don’t understand.”
Priceless. The girl literally had to get her ducks in a row before she could go to the potty.
Today’s story isn’t duck or OCD-related however.
“I picked Abby up from daycare yesterday, and her face was streaked with blue paint. I asked her if she had fun, but she must’ve seen me examining her blue face. She hurried to reassure me, saying, ‘It just happened while I was painting, Mommy. I’m not turning into a Smurf.’”
I laugh. Hilarious.
“I love it, Mel. That is adorable.”
“Just thought I’d try to start your day with a smile before your big appointment.”
I ignore the appointment reference.
“You definitely did. Thanks, Mel. Give Abby a kiss for me. She’s coming with you on Friday, right?”
“Oh, yes. She’s already packed her bag.”
“Awesome. I’ll see you both then.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I’m so glad Melanie brings Abby to Girls’ Night every other week. I wish I could spend even more time with her.
Phone back on dresser. Time to start the day. And almost time for my cancellation phone call.
The office probably won’t be open until at least 9:00 a.m. so I grab a 200-calorie breakfast bar and start plugging away at my morning routine.
10:30 a.m. I’m getting my supplies (dish soap and window cleaner) ready to clean my bathroom, and my phone buzzes.
Unknown Number…again.
Count. Open.
Five minutes? Can you give me that? After that, I can send your paperwork directly over to Spencer’s office. Really. Please.
UGHHH . I know I’m going to give in. He doesn’t need to beat himself up this much over the purse. He didn’t do it on purpose. I know.
Besides, he seems to already have plenty of things to make him sad. {There go those Soggy Bottom Boys with “Man of Constant Sorrow.” } He pissed me off, but I don’t need to add to his troubles—whatever they are. With my luck, something bad will happen to him, and I’ll read about it in the paper. A car crash. A fall. A house fire. Something. I don’t want to feel responsible for that. None of that.
I hit reply.
Fine.
Count. Send.
Another beep from my phone. A new message
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