AR - What's in the packages?

You narrow your eyes. “What’s in the packages?”

Carla snorts and takes a drink. “I’ll let you ask your mom that.”

“Hmm.” Very suspicious.

“But,” Carla says, pushing her glass aside and trailing her fingertip over the surface of the table. “I really appreciate this chance to talk. More than you know, Riley. Can we make a date to do this again?”

You stare at her.

“Look,” you say. “I’m flattered. I’m sure Adella is too, but I don’t think we’ve ever formally discussed like swinging stuff…”

“No, no,” Carla says quickly, waving her hand and grinning. “That’s not the kind of date that I mean. Come on. Did you know that me and your mom were neighbors?”

“No,” you reply.

“We were. Not for very long, but we were. And she was a friend. I’m not going to hit on her daughter. But I do like to gossip.”

“Oh. Well, sure. I guess.”

“And, uh…” Carla examines her fingernails. “How’s your dad these days?”

You groan. That’s an awkward subject. Your dad is… a nice guy. Maybe a little too nice. You’re pretty sure that he cheated on mom several times before he left. And when he left, he didn’t use a very good story. He said that he was gay.

Now, as an openly queer person, normally you’d be pretty sympathetic to that. It’s not like it’s unheard of. But nobody believes for a second that your dad came to grips with his sexuality in his late thirties. That was just a lazy story that he must’ve made up to justify leaving so he could, presumably, go off and chase younger women.

You don’t get it. Even now, your mother is absurdly attractive. Your dad was a good dad when he was around, but there’s just a lot of very complicated stuff there. What’s more, you don’t know how much of the details are loose in the community. It’s Gurlberg; people talk. You’ve made a point to avoid gossip about your dad. You don’t want to know who he was cheating on your mom with.

So there’s a limit to how much you can tell Carla; you don’t want to risk exposing your mom’s business.

“He’s in Orlando,” you reply.

“So he’s not coming around much?” Carla asks.

You shake your head. “He calls me twice a week. Kayla too. I haven’t seen him in person since my birthday.”

Carla nods silently. “Sorry,” she says after a moment. “Sounds hard.”

It’s been a few years. You’ve had time to get used to him being out of the house. You shrug.

“OK, well. Like I was saying earlier,” Carla says, straightening up and getting serious. “One of my girls checked out their practice. She recorded it.” She places a flash drive on the table. “If you want to see what they’re up to.”

You’re surprised. Why didn’t Carla lead with this? Maybe she’d tried to…

This isn’t FUTA, and it’s not a real soccer league. It’s supposed to be a fun thing in the community.

Carla sees your hesitance. “You can take the high road if you want, but I promise they’ve already started spying on you,” she says.

“You really think so?”

“Ellen doesn’t pull her punches,” Carla states flatly.

Refuse the flash drive?

Or take it?