“No one cares if your beaver is naked or if it has a Mohawk or if you let it grow in for Movember,” Charlene says.
I say nothing. I’m thoroughly entertained.
Sunny’s not even paying attention. She’s too busy checking her phone for new messages. “Boo! Their flight doesn’t get in until five. Oh, wait. Maybe it’s two. Miller gets that mixed up a lot. Can someone else check?”
“It doesn’t matter what time they get in. We already have plans for tonight,” Violet says.
“Plans?” Sunny and I ask at the same time.
“We’re having a girl’s night in and sending the boys out for a few hours.”
“But they’re just getting back.”
“There’s a game on tonight, and they’re playing the team next week. They’re going to sit in front of the TV for three hours and talk strategy like they always do. I’m not interested in listening to that crap. So the plan is this: the guys come home, we send them to the pub while the game’s on—”
“Or Darren’s since he lives down the street,” Charlene interjects.
“Or Darren’s. Wherever has beer and better food. They come back after the game, and we can all disappear into bedrooms and enjoy some alone time.”
Sunny raises her hand.
“You don’t have to raise your hand, Sunny. You’re free to speak anytime,” Violet says.
“I haven’t seen Miller in two weeks. I’d like to have some alone time before he goes out to the pub. Or Darren’s.”
“No alone time before the pub,” Violet says.
“What? Why not?”
“Because that’s what they expect. Look, I know you’re all excited about moving here, Sunny, and you’re super in love with Buck, or Miller, or whatever you want to call him, but trust me; you need to make him wait for it.”
“She’s right.” Charlene nods her agreement.
“I only have a little more than a week here, so I’m not sure what the point is in making Randy wait,” I say.
Violet comes to a stop at a red light and points at me. Her nails are really nice. “You especially need to make him wait.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Because you need to make sure he gets that you’re not at his whim, that your beaver is a snowflake and should be treated as such.”
She’s not even making sense now. I stop arguing and let her rant. A few minutes later we pull up to the sweetest house I’ve ever seen. It’s two-stories of white clapboard with adorable gardens lining the front porch. Two solar panels are attached to the roof. The backyard is modest in comparison to her parents place in Guelph, and there’s no pool, but a dog run has been installed, and a small glass greenhouse sits at the back of the property.
Sunny cries. Violet pats her back and steers her inside, where we pop a bottle of champagne and take a tour of the four-bedroom home. It’s cozy and exactly the kind of place Sunny loves. Live plants inhabit every window, and dog beds are set up in the living room and Sunny’s bedroom, which has been outfitted with a brand new four-poster bed with a sheer curtain. It’s romantic and gorgeous.
“There’s no way Alex picked out this stuff,” Sunny says through a fresh round of sniffles.
“Buck helped out, and so did Charlene and I, because you know how boys are.” Violet’s smile says it all.
“How did you find the time to do this?” Sunny can’t stop the tears.
Violet hugs her again. “Alex hired someone to decorate. All I did was oversee the furniture decisions and make sure everything didn’t end up Chicago team colors.”
“You guys are the best.”
When Sunny stops crying, we resume the tour. In the bedroom at the far end of the hall, I lose the battle and join the emotional breakdown brigade. Turning to Sunny and Violet, I motion to the room, but I don’t have words, so I keep gesturing, hoping they’ll get what I’m not able to say.
“I wanted to be prepared for whatever you decide,” Sunny says softly. “And you need a room here no matter what.”
“Where did you get all these?” Along one wall are skating pictures. Of me. As a teenager on the brink of moving from competitive to Olympic trials. I never did, of course, but the images are beautiful—movement captured in still form.
“My mom used to take them all the time.” Sunny rubs my back and puts an arm around my shoulder. Her smile is sad. “I don’t want to do this without you.”
Being here in this gorgeous house, knowing Sunny’s staying and I have to go back to Guelph at the end of the holidays, makes me seriously evaluate my options.
“Okay. This is way too premenstrual for me,” Violet says. “We need more drinks!”
“Totally!” Charlene agrees.
We end up spending way longer than we intended to at Sunny’s new place, partly because we polish off the rest of the champagne. Violet only has one glass, but she’s paranoid about driving Alex’s car, so we hang around in Sunny’s living room while Violet caffeinates herself and the rest of us keep drinking.