“How—” She stopped, her mouth still parted like she was so upset she couldn’t find the words. “How are you guys going to afford your own place? You have no idea how to manage a budget. You have no money.”
She was treating me like I was five, as though I had no clue about life.
“I’ve got enough to fix the car and get insurance soon. Mike from the Fish Shack said I can start waitressing on the weekends this spring, then in the summer I can go full-time.”
“The Fish Shack? Toni…” She was already shaking her head. “You can’t work there.”
“Why not?”
“You really want to waitress? Do you have any idea how hard it is? And you hate taking orders from people. You’ll work late all weekend, then you’ll be tired all week at school. I’d rather you just kept working for your dad.”
Where she could keep an eye on me, she meant. I was sick of her speaking for me, like she knew everything about me and what was best for me.
“Well, I’d rather work at the Fish Shack. I need more experience for a résumé, Mom—not just working for my father.” I had her there, and I could see her mind working, trying to figure out her next argument. I quickly added, “Ryan already has a job at the outdoor store and he can start taking people out on some guided tours in the summer. His mom is putting aside some stuff for us too, like towels and linens and kitchen things. We don’t need much to get started.”
I smiled at her, feeling smug at how well we’d planned everything, and at her look of jealous annoyance when I’d mentioned Ryan’s mom.
“So you’ve already told his mother? And she approves?”
“Yeah, she’s happy for us. She likes me.” I dug the knife in a little deeper and was rewarded by the telltale narrowing of my mom’s eyes.
She tried a new tactic. “Even if you have a job, you can’t just come and go as you please. As long as you’re living here, you need to let us know where you are, and when you’re coming home.” She was grasping, still trying to find something to control.
“That’s fine.” I pushed past her and went to the bathroom. “Are we done? I’d like to have a shower now.”
She shook her head. “There’s no talking to you.”
“I don’t know why you even try.” I closed the door.
“Don’t use all the hot water!” she shouted.
*
When I got out of the shower, Nicole was studying in her room, books spread out on the bed. Our rooms were on the same side of the house, with a shared bathroom in the middle. My mom also had an office on the upper floor, but our parents’ bedroom was on the lower floor, at the opposite end of the house. My bedroom walls were decorated with posters of rock stars: Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains. My bedspread was dark purple, the walls the darkest gray my mom would let me paint them, and there were usually piles of clothes on the floor, jeans, some of Ryan’s T-shirts I liked to wear, one of his jackets. I also had a collection of notes and letters from him, things he’d given me, little keepsakes like movie stubs or a decal from his motorbike. I kept those in an old tool kit my dad had given me with a padlock, the key around my neck.
Above my desk, a corkboard was covered with photos of Ryan and me. My favorite one, taken last summer at the lake, was on my night table. It was the two of us sitting on his tailgate and kissing. Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I’d rest the photo on my chest, feeling like Ryan was there with me. We’d never spent a whole night together and couldn’t wait until we had our own place, where we could have the privacy and freedom to do whatever we wanted.
Nicole’s room was tidy—no clothes on the floor—and painted in a light shade of buttercup-yellow, with sheer curtains and pretty pillows on her sage-green bedspread. Her room looked springtime fresh, which suited her sweet, cheerful personality. Right now she looked serious, though, chewing on the end of a pencil as she studied. She was probably trying to make sure she got an A+ on her next test—I’d seen her cry when she got a B once. She never let that happen again. I got annoyed with her a lot, mainly because I wished she didn’t need to be so perfect all the time. I also wished she had more backbone and stuck up for herself. It pissed me off seeing her give in to what Mom wanted, doing her chores right away, always telling her exactly where she was going and who she was with, then calling a million times, never late.