After graduation, Shawna and I both decided on the University of Georgia. Our freshman year, we were closer than ever, rooming together, then pledging the same sorority. We even started to look alike, wearing the same clothes and sporting the same superlong, overbleached, flat-ironed hair. Some people confused us, or asked if we were twins, which I found flattering.
Then, sophomore year, Shawna started dating Jacob Marsh, asshole extraordinaire. I couldn’t stand him, and made the mistake of telling her as much—which almost always backfires. It certainly did in our case, the two of us drifting apart until Shawna finally came to her senses and dumped Jacob: his cue to leak a video of Shawna masturbating to Madonna’s “Justify My Love.” It spread within days, not only all over UGA but across the SEC, to Auburn, Alabama, and Ole Miss. Beyond the fact that she was thoroughly humiliated, she was also kicked out of ADPi under the promiscuity clause. A group of us appealed the decision, arguing it wasn’t her fault the video got out; it was supposed to be private. But the ladies at the national office weren’t budging and Shawna had to move out of our house. She ended up transferring to Georgia State, and we drifted apart even more—much to what I perceived as Meredith’s odd vindication. I remember when she heard the news, her first reaction wasn’t sympathy—but an off-the-cuff announcement that she “always knew Shawna was trouble.”
The next time I saw Shawna was over the following Christmas break, when we ran into each other at a bar in Atlanta. I gave her a hug and told her how much I missed her. She said she missed me, too, but things felt strained. It made me sad, the emotion heightened by the encroaching holidays, but a little bit angry, too. After all, it wasn’t my fault that she had trusted such a jerk. As I watched her hanging out with her new friends, I made the conscious decision to have more fun than they were having. I downed my vodka drink, then ordered another, on my way to a blackout drunken night—the kind with big gaping holes, followed by nothingness. In fact, I’m sure the entire night would have eventually been forgotten altogether, except that it happened to be the very night I lost my brother in a car accident.
chapter eight
MEREDITH
About a week later, Josie sends a cryptic group email requesting that my parents, Nolan, Harper, and I join her for dinner the following evening. She tells us “not to worry” but goes on to say that she has “something important to discuss” with us. She acknowledges how busy we all are, and that my parents might not be keen on the idea of seeing each other, but then essentially insists that we join her the night she is proposing. The whole thing is classic Josie. Calling shots, making demands, creating drama.
Mom calls me within five minutes of the email appearing in our inboxes.
“Do you think this is health-related?” she asks, panic rising in her voice. “Has she had a recent mammogram? Or any doctors’ appointments that you know about? She never tells me anything….”
“Mom, calm down,” I say, putting her on speaker so I can continue to work on the answers to a set of interrogatories due by the end of the day. “She wouldn’t include Harper if it were to tell us about a lump in her breast or anything dire like that. Frankly, I don’t see her including Dad in that conversation, either. At least not initially.”
I quickly change the subject, as the only person I want to analyze less than Josie is my father. I’m certainly not going to tell my mother that he has a new girlfriend, although I’m sure Josie will bring that up tomorrow night, too. Hell, she probably invited her in a separate email.
“When did you talk to her last?” she asks.
“Umm…last Saturday night,” I say. “She called me at some ungodly hour….I was half asleep.”
“Did she sound upset?”
“No, Mom. She just wanted to chat….Apparently she can’t keep track of my please-don’t-call-after-ten rule any more than she can remember not to wear her shoes in my house.”
“So…do you think Josie might actually have good news?” Mom asks with pathetic hope. “Maybe a raise?”
“I doubt it,” I say, thinking that it is more likely to be a financial issue than a raise. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Josie asked to borrow money from one of us.
Mom throws out another theory. “Maybe she met someone?”
“Wouldn’t she just tell us that?” I say. “Besides, that doesn’t seem possible given her current Will obsession.”
“I know,” Mom says. “I asked her about the first week of school, and all she really talked about was that little girl….It’s sad….”
“Sad meaning pathetic?”
“Be nice,” she says.
I sigh, taking her off speaker. “I’m trying, Mom. But it’s hard….She’s so selfish. Everything is about her. This email is a case in point.”
“Meredith. Please give your sister a chance,” she says. “You always assume the worst about her. Maybe she wants to talk about Daniel and our trip to see Sophie. Or—”
I cut her off, confident that this meeting has nothing whatsoever to do with Daniel. “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “Let’s see what she wants to discuss. If it’s not something completely self-serving, I’ll start giving her a chance.”