I giggle as I listen. God, I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a teenage son.
She dials her ex-husband’s number.
“Hello,” she snaps. “Go into your son’s bedroom, grab his phone, and throw the damn thing in the toilet. He is grounded for life.”
She listens.
Aaron and I begin to giggle uncontrollably.
“Michael,” she says as she inhales deeply to try to calm down. “I know he’s been seeing her, and I know she probably likes it. He’s fifteen years old,” she whispers angrily. “Take his phone, or be prepared for me to come over and smash it.”
She hangs up in a rush and puts her head down on the table and pretends to bang it continually.
Aaron and I burst out laughing, and I put my hand on her back.
“Do you want some more tequila, Moll?” I ask sweetly.
“Yes . . . I do. Make it a double
