I’m about to say, Of course I’m happy, everything’s great, but then I realize … I don’t know if that’s true.
“I guess I just feel kind of confused,” I finally say. “Between stuff here at home and Gavin being in college, everything feels like a mess.”
“You want my advice?” she asks.
“Yeah. Always.”
“I think he’s hot and I know him being a cool rocker guy adds to his appeal. But … he’s not very nice. Do you know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t,” I say, my voice hard.
“Come on. The comment about your singing?”
My face reddens. “He was just kidding.”
“What about him freaking out on that guy?”
“Gav is … overprotective.”
You’ve started making more and more comments about guys lately and I can’t tell if it’s me or them you don’t trust.
Beth snorts. “That’s one word for it.” She slings an arm around my shoulders. “I’m getting a bad vibe, little sis. And you know my vibes are always right.”
Unfortunately they are.
“I love him,” I say.
“I know. That’s the problem.”
My phone buzzes—it’s you.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I say.
“Don’t be gone too long—I want quality sister time. There’s Ben and Jerry’s!”
I promise to hurry. I answer the phone on my way to the backyard.
“Hey,” I say as I settle into one of the patio chairs.
“Hey.”
Neither of us says anything for a minute.
“Was that our first fight?” you say.
“Well, we’ve been kinda fighting a lot lately. I’d say that was our first big fight.”
“I think I know how to avoid this kind of stuff,” you say.
“Okay…”
“We should make a rule—about being with the opposite sex. Like, I’m not allowed to be alone with any other girls and you’re not allowed to be alone with any guys. Then we can avoid shit like this.”
I’ve already been following your no touching rule. I haven’t hugged any of my guy friends for months. It was harder than I thought, which made me realize maybe you were right to make that rule all along. I was definitely too touchy-feely. But I’m not sure I’m up for another rule.
“That’s kind of impossible if a conversation in public counts as ‘alone,’” I say.
“Well, tonight you could have just said thanks and I have a boyfriend and left it at that,” you say. “Like, don’t keep talking to him.”
I’m quiet for a while. If I tell you I don’t like the rule, you’ll think I want to hit on a bunch of guys all the time. But if I agree to the rule, then I get peace of mind knowing you’re not having study dates with hot college girls.
“Okay,” I say, “let’s try it and see.”
You’re building a wall around us, keeping out everyone I know and love. Soon, that wall will be too hard to climb back over.
TWENTY-ONE
I’m sitting in the theater, orchestra third row, watching Peter screw up again. Miss B is sick so I’m running rehearsals today.
“Line!” he calls, shading his eyes against the stage lights as he looks for me out in the house.
“Peter, we open next week,” I say. “What are you going to do when there’s an actual audience out here?”
He’s the lead in The Crucible. It’s not my favorite play, but Miss B had to choose it because it goes with the English curriculum.
“Just give me the line, Grace,” he says.
I sigh and look down at my script. “Can you speak one minute without we land in Hell again? I am sick of Hell!”
He repeats the line and I make a note that he’s got to deliver it with more passion. He killed it at the audition, but his Proctor is pretty rough around the edges.
A few minutes later, he’s calling for his line again. I imagine I’m Miss B as I stand and move toward the stage.
“I’m not giving you your line this time,” I say.
“What the fuck?” he says.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I say, channeling Beth. Firm, calm, in control. I am a badass director, I chant to myself. “You need to figure out how to move through the scene if you go up on a line.”
“Dammmmnn,” Lys says, nodding approvingly. Every time I look at her, I have to try not to laugh: Lys in a Puritan bonnet is priceless.
Peter throws a murderous glare my way, then continues with the scene, ad-libbing or getting prompts from the other actors as needed. I think about the personal statement I have to write for my NYU application, which is due in a few weeks. Maybe I should talk about how overcoming adversity in my personal life is helping me to be a better director. Life with my mom and The Giant has allowed me to hone my conflict management skills and prepare for catastrophe. I already know I’m going to have to be backstage feeding this fool his lines.
I give notes at the end of rehearsal, my notebook paper filled with suggestions for improvement. Everyone takes me seriously—even Peter, jackass that he is—and it’s probably one of the proudest moments of my life.
You pick me up after and I’m walking on cloud nine. Things have been a little weird between us since my sister’s visit, but we’re generally working through it all. It’s October, and we’re getting more used to you being in college.
“… And then Lys was all dammmmmnn and basically I’m a badass,” I say.
You laugh. “Of course you are—I already knew that.”
We stop at Denny’s for some food before you take me home.
“I wonder if they have a class in college about having to deal with actors like Peter,” I say, sliding into a booth. “Dealing With Divas 101.”
“If they do, you’ll ace it.”
The waitress comes to take our order and pour our coffee. I add cream and three packets of sugar to mine, but you drink yours black.
I lean forward. “So. When were you going to tell me that you emailed my sister?”
You take a sip of coffee. “I figured you’d find out eventually.”
I rest a hand on your arm. “Well, you scored some major boyfriend points. Thank you.”
“I was a dick to her. And since she’s probably going to be a family member someday, I figured it’d be good if she didn’t hate me.” I blush and you grin. “Don’t look so surprised. There’s no way we’re not spending the rest of our lives together.”
“Stop being perfect,” I say and then I take a big swig of coffee to burn away the lump in my throat.
I could have ended up like my mom, with someone like my dad or The Giant, but the universe gave me you.
“How’d you even get her email address?” I ask, going back to the topic of you being a top-notch brother-in-law.
“Your phone.”
“That’s pretty sneaky.”
You smile. “It is. Did it work?”
“Yeah, I think so. She’s willing to give you another chance, anyway.”
“That’s all I was hoping for.”
Our food comes and I pour copious amounts of syrup over my pancakes. You grab a bite and I bat your hand away.
“So … who’s Dan?” you say.
“Hmm?”
“Dan. I saw a couple emails from him in your inbox.”
“You read my emails?”
“Not on purpose. It was just, you know, there. When I was looking for Beth’s address.”
I frown. “He’s a guy in my Brit Lit class. We’re partners for an assignment.”
“Okay.” You take a bite of your burger and I grab one of your fries, chewing thoughtfully.