“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “She wants us to feel included. The other day she was saying it might be nice to acknowledge Mommy in some way.”
Margot rolls her eyes. “She didn’t even know her.”
“Well, she knew her a little. They were all neighbors, after all. I don’t know, I thought during the ceremony, like, maybe the three of us could light a candle. . . .” I trail off because Margot doesn’t look at all convinced. “It was just an idea,” I say, and Peter makes a yikes face at me.
“I don’t know, I think that sounds kind of awkward? I mean, this wedding is about Trina and Daddy starting a new life together, not the past.”
“That’s a good point,” Peter agrees.
Peter works hard to impress Margot. He’s always taking her side. I pretend to be annoyed by it, but really I am touched. Of course he should take her side. It’s his job to take her side. It shows that he gets how important her good opinion is to me, and he gets the place she has in my life. I could never be with someone who didn’t understand how important my family is to me.
When Margot leaves to take Kitty to piano lessons, Peter says, “Your sister is really not loving Ms. Rothschild, huh.” Peter still hasn’t gotten the hang of calling Ms. Rothschild Trina, and he likely never will. In our neighborhood, none of the kids growing up called the adults by their first names. Everyone was Miss or Mrs. or Mr., except for Daddy, who was Dr.
“I wouldn’t say Gogo dislikes Trina,” I say. “She likes her; she just isn’t used to her yet. You know how Trina is.”
“True,” he says. “I also know how your sister is. It took her forever to warm up to me.”
“It wasn’t forever. You’re just used to people liking you from the very first minute they meet you.” I give him a sidelong look. “Because you’re so very charming.” He scowls, because I don’t say it like a compliment. “Gogo doesn’t care about charm. She cares about real.”
“Well, now she loves me,” he says, all confidence. When I don’t answer right away, he says, “Right? Doesn’t she?”
I laugh. “She does.”
*
Later that day, after Peter leaves to help his mom out at her store, Margot and Trina get into a spat over, of all things, hair. I’m in the laundry room, ironing my dress when I hear Trina say, “Margot, when you shower, would you mind picking up your hair out of the drain catch? I was cleaning the tub this morning and I noticed it.”
Then comes Margot’s quick reply. “Sure.”
“Thanks. I just don’t want the drain to get clogged.”
A minute later Margot’s in the laundry room with me. “Did you hear that? Can you believe her? How does she even know it was my hair and not yours or Kitty’s?”
“Your hair is lighter, and it’s shorter,” I point out. “Plus, Kitty and I pick ours up because we know it grosses Trina out.”
“Well, dog fur all over my clothes grosses me out! Every time I take a breath, I feel like I’m inhaling fur. If she’s so concerned about housekeeping, she should vacuum more often.”
Trina comes up behind Margot, looking stony-faced, and says, “I actually vacuum once a week, which is the standard amount.”
Margot’s gone red. “Sorry. But if you have a dog that sheds as much as Simone, I think twice a week is probably more appropriate.”
“Then tell that to your dad, since I haven’t seen him pick up a vacuum once in the whole time I’ve known him.” Trina stalks off, and Margot’s mouth drops open, and I go back to ironing.
“Don’t you think that was a bit much?” she whispers to me.
“She’s right, though. Daddy never vacuums. He sweeps, and he mops, but he doesn’t vacuum.”
“Still!”
“Trina isn’t one to be trifled with,” I tell her. “Especially not when she’s about to get her period.” Margot stares at me. “We’re synced up. It’s only a matter of time before you are too.”
*
Margot and I go to the mall, ostensibly so I can get a new strapless bra for my dress, but really because Margot wants to escape Trina. When we get back, the downstairs rugs are freshly vacuumed and neat as a pin, and Kitty is putting the vacuum cleaner away, which I can tell Margot feels bad about.
At dinner Trina and Margot are cordial to each other, as if nothing happened. Which, in some ways, is worse than a fight. At least when you’re in a fight, you’re in it with someone.
31
THE DAY OF MY GRADUATION, I wake up early and lie in bed listening to the sounds of the house waking up. Daddy is puttering around downstairs making coffee; Margot has the shower running; Kitty is probably still sound asleep. Trina, too. They’re both late sleepers.
I will miss these house sounds when I’m gone. A part of me is already homesick for them. Another part of me is so, so excited to take this next step, and I never thought I would be, not after things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped.
*
For my graduation present, Margot gives me a college kit. A pink satin eye mask with my name embroidered on it in pale silvery blue. A USB drive shaped like a gold tube of lipstick. Earplugs that look like circus peanuts, pink fuzzy slippers, a nylon makeup bag covered in sketches of bows. I love every single thing in the kit equally.
Kitty makes a beautiful card. It’s a collage of pictures of us, but she’s used some sort of app to turn the pictures into line drawings, like a coloring book. She’s colored them all with coloring pencils. On the inside she’s written, Congratulations. Have fun at college. P.S. I’ll miss you an 11. Tears spring to my eyes, and I scoop Kitty into my arms and hug her tightly, for so long that she says, “All right, all right—enough already,” but I can tell she is pleased. “I’m going to frame it,” I declare.
My gift from Trina is a vintage tea set—cream with pink rosebuds and rimmed in gold. “It was my mom’s,” she tells me, and I feel like I could cry, I love it so much. When I hug her, I whisper in her ear, “This is my favorite gift,” and she winks at me. Winking is one of Trina’s talents. She’s great at it, very natural.
Daddy sips from his coffee and then clears his throat. “Lara Jean, your gift from me is one that Margot and Kitty will also partake in.”
“What is it, what is it?” Kitty presses.
“Hush, it’s my gift,” I say, looking at Daddy expectantly.
Grinning, he says, “I’m sending you three girls to Korea with Grandma this summer. Happy graduation, Lara Jean!”
Kitty screams and Margot is beaming, and I’m in shock. We’ve been talking about going to Korea for years. Mommy always wanted to take us. “When, when?” Kitty asks.
“Next month,” Trina says, smiling at her. “Your dad and I will go on our honeymoon, and you guys will jet off to Korea.”
Next month?
“Aw, you guys aren’t coming?” Kitty pouts. Margot, on the other hand, is smiling. Ravi’s visiting family in India over the summer, and she doesn’t have any big plans.
“We really want to come, but I can’t take that much time away from the hospital,” Daddy says, regretful.