Which is when she grabs a pinch of my green beans with her hands and grins at me.
And then she gets up, bolts from the table, and runs out to the greenhouse. I look over at Mom and Dad and ask, Should we do something? with the arches of my eyebrows, but they look back at me with the faces of two people who are used to this and whose flight leaves first thing in the morning. “Don’t worry, sport,” says Dad. “She’s fine.”
“Will you clean up, sweetie?” Mom asks. “We need to get to bed pronto if we have any hope of making this flight tomorrow.”
“No problem,” I tell them, then give them both hugs good night.
I peek out the window to make sure I can see Callie, and once I know she’s safe, I text Stan: callie ran out to the greenhouse during dinner.
Ten minutes later, he texts back: Ted ran into the greenhouse during dinner.
wait. for real or are you being funny?
4 real.
I can’t help but laugh a bit. wtf, I text.
IDK, he texts. I want to be worried but right now who knows.
And I know just what he means. It isn’t like what they’ve been doing is anything other than what they’ve always been doing. It just seems like recently there’s more of it, all the time. I want to worry about it, but I don’t really know how. Or, I guess what I mean is, I have no idea how worried I should be.
So I text back yeah, because, well, yeah.
I GET BARELY any sleep and then wake up early to see Mom and Dad off. They’re in the driveway, waving, and I’m waving back, and Callie is next to me and kicking out her legs like a Rockette, but not in any sort of rhythm, which is awkward and adorable, and I decide here and now that this is just her awkward and adorable version of waving. Mom and Dad blow kisses, shout “Be good!” one more time, then get in the car. We watch them drive off into the distance.
And here we are.
I close the door and smile at Callie, who is holding a sleeve of Ritz. She smiles at me too and takes one cracker out, real dramatically, then moves it toward my mouth. I open my mouth, take it, and eat it, and she keeps smiling, and I smile bigger, because I have a sister, and I can’t ever hear her voice, but she’s still my sister, and she’s here, and it’s just really, really nice. “Nice” isn’t the word, though, not exactly. I’m tired and thinking too much, so I just hug her, and she makes this kind of sighing sound that feels very warm. And I just hold her like that, and she holds me the way she knows how to, and then the doorbell rings.
I open the door to see Mimi, and standing behind her and nearly a foot above her but still acting like he could hide, Dave.
“Uh,” I say. “Hello? Fancy seeing you here?”
“You mean you’re surprised to see us here, at your house, immediately following your parents’ departure for parts unknown?”
“The Galápagos,” whispers Dave.
“For the Galápagos unknown?” tries Mimi.
“‘Galápagoses unknown’ is probably more accurate,” whispers Dave.
“Dave,” I say, turning to look him right in his sheepish eyes, “you’re really not helping your case by helping her here.”
“His case?” Mimi says.
“Yup,” I say, “the case against Dave.”
“There’s a case against Dave? What are the charges? Being too sweet and wonderful?”
“Actually, yes,” I say. “Supplemented by suspicion of aiding and abetting what I can only imagine is a house party, to take place at my house, about which nobody told me, at which minors will be served alcohol.”
“You left out that there’ll be good times had by all!” says Mimi, with such sheer joy that I actually consider closing the door on her face.
Seriously, though, why would she do this? After everything I told her about Dave and my family and how overwhelmed I am about having to take care of Callie?
Dave must be able to see all of this on my face, because before I can think anything meaner about Mimi, he says, “She just thought you could use a break is all.”
“That is exactly my thinking here,” Mimi says.
I look to Callie, who is calmly chomping a cracker. “Ugh,” I sigh. “Fine. How are you getting the booze?”
“My brother, duh,” Mimi says.
“Okay, and how many people are coming?”
“All of them.” She says this as though she is the literal embodiment of nonchalance.
“All of them?” I say. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means . . . all of them,” Dave says, but he says it like what he really means to say is I’m sorry, and it’s the right thing to do, him saying it like this, and I’m grateful.
And anyway, even if the whole city shows up, they’re probably right. I do need a break. I’m supposed to know this!
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to know if I need a break?” I say.
“Right, because you’re the queen of going easy on yourself,” says Mimi.