“Really?” my manager, Britt, asks me a few hours later after I deliver her the news about my two weeks’ notice. “Everything okay?”
She knows about Mom. Most of Oakland does, I reckon, but Britt has become privy to some of the more gory details over the course of the several years I’ve worked at the Daily Dose.
“Not really,” I admit. “Mom’s getting worse, and I…” How do I even begin to phrase this next bit in a way that will make any sense to a normal person? “I’m moving her into my boyfriend’s place.”
Britt’s eyes widen. We never really talked about Kieran, I guess. It’s not like we’re friends; she only knows about Mom because of the emergencies I had to take off to be with her. “What boyfriend?”
I’m pleasantly surprised to hear that she hasn’t read about us. Unfortunately, before I c
