I hear a noise from the living room and realize that Vera is in there, but she’s not on the phone. Instead, she’s burritoed into one of my mother’s Snuggies and staring at her phone. I don’t mean to snoop, but as I get closer to the couch, a word on the screen unexpectedly jumps out at me. I’m used to words being a jumbled mess, but clear as day, for just a moment, there’s a name I recognize.

I squint. “Wait a second. Who is that email from?”

Apparently she didn’t know I was standing behind her because she jumps about a foot in the air. I grab her phone and squint at the screen.

“Hey! Buttwad! Give that back.”

Vera tries to sneak-attack me over the back of the couch, but gets tangled up in the Snuggie. I step back and make sure I’m reading this right.

“Damn it!” she shouts. “This is stupid—I’m serious. Give. Me. My. Phone.”

Once I know for sure I’m seeing this correctly I can’t help but laugh. This can’t be true. Pieces fall into place from all over my life. Some people have all the luck. “This is the guy, Vera? Your newest fuckboy?”

“GIVE. ME. MY. PHONE.”

She’s free of the Snuggie and her fists are doing a great impression of lawnmower blades. She’d haymaker me if I let her, but luckily my big-brother muscle memory kicks in, and I plant a palm on her forehead, keeping her well out of the danger zone.

“Vera, can I ask you something?” I need to clear up a thing or two here. “Did you ever Google Fred?”

She ducks under my hand, emerges in hissing fury inches from my face and attempts to put me in traction as she grabs for the phone.

“Vera. God! Just quit it a minute and answer my question!”

She sags back against the couch, glaring at me. “No. I never Googled Fred. Why would I? I knew I was never going to date him.”

I can’t help but scream with laughter. Seriously. Some people just have ALL the luck.

She’s looking at me like she wants nothing more than to get her hands on a voodoo doll of me. “You look like a psycho right now. Give me my phone!”

This is the only fun I’ve had in a week. I’m not letting go of this opportunity. “Let’s go to his Wikipedia page, shall we?”

“I’m literally going to kill you. Not to sound like a nineties movie, but say your prayers, you twerp! Wait, why does he have a Wikipedia page?”

I search it on her phone. “Here we are. His page. I’m going to show it to you and you need to promise to look. Don’t just rip the phone away.”

“You will truly be lucky if you see the sunrise.”