“That’s exactly the right attitude,” Desi says. “I played Spear-Carrier Number Four in Richard III my first time there, and it was still one of the best summers of my life.”
Desi and Jermaine shout hello to my dad in the kitchen as we head inside, and Sutton marches up to Skye with her tiny fists on her hips. “Did you know I’m adopted?” she challenges.
Skye’s eyes go all soft and gooey. “Aren’t you precious,” she croons.
“I’m not precious. I’m Chinese.”
Jermaine leans over to kiss Marisol’s mouth, then her belly. “How’re you feeling, sweet girl?”
“Like a giant bacon-wrapped scallop trying to balance on a tiny, unsupportive toothpick,” she says. “Ooh, are there any bacon-wrapped scallops? I have the strongest craving all of a sudden.”
Mom comes in with overfull wineglasses for Desi and Jermaine and a half glass for me. “Where’s your girlfriend tonight, Harrison?” she asks. “What’s this one’s name? Candy? Cinnamon?”
“Her name is Cassandra, and she’s working late.”
“What does your girlfriend do?” Skye asks.
My mom snorts. “Yes, Harrison, remind us all what Cassandra does.”
“She’s a financial analyst,” he says, the way most people might say “She’s a call girl.” He takes a very large gulp of wine as my mom breaks into riotous laughter.
“Oh man, that never gets less funny. My mainstream little brother. Before we know it, you’re going to start ditching us for Monday Night Football.” She’s obviously teasing, but the word “mainstream” is a pretty serious insult around here, and my uncle flinches. This is exactly why I tried to keep my last boyfriend away from my parents; Jason loved things like laser tag and video games and the Super Bowl. He had never been inside a Broadway theater until I dragged him to see the Les Miz revival for our two-month anniversary. He fell asleep fifteen minutes in.
“I’ll make sure the next person I date is a burlesque dancer, okay, Lana?” Uncle Harrison says. “Because my love life is a hundred percent your business.”
“I’m just trying to make sure you end up with someone who suits you! Financial analysts aren’t like us.”
“Simon, how’re we doing on dinner?” Uncle Harrison shouts toward the other room.
“Almost ready,” my dad calls back. “Are we waiting on anyone?”
“No, this is it for tonight.” My mom beams at me. “A nice intimate gathering in honor of our girl.” There are eleven people in the apartment, but this is what counts as intimate for the Shepard clan.
“What are we celebrating?” Skye asks.
When Uncle Harrison explains that I’m leaving for Allerdale tomorrow, Skye looks genuinely interested in me for the first time. “Oh, that’s great, Brooklyn! I was there the last two summers. Are you in the non-equity company?”
“Maybe next year. I’m an apprentice this time.”
“Oh,” Skye says, her voice falling just short of supportive. “Well, everyone has to start somewhere, I guess.”
I’m grateful when my dad distracts everyone by carrying in giant serving platters of mango chicken and coconut rice. “Thanks for cooking,” I say to him as we get on line to serve ourselves. “It smells delicious.”
Dad wraps an arm around my shoulders, and his salt-and-pepper beard hooks on to my hair like Velcro when he kisses the side of my head. He’s wearing a frilly pink apron, and even after cooking curry all afternoon, he smells like wintergreen Life Savers. “I have to feed you while I can,” he says. “Summer-stock kids survive on ramen and ice cream.”
“Dad, I have a meal plan.”
My dad looks skeptical that anyone else can nourish me properly. He has always been a man of few words—Mom has such a big personality that he’s had to retreat a few steps into himself to make room for her—but food is how he says he loves us. Mom can barely heat up canned soup without setting something on fire, but she tells everyone she lets Dad do all the cooking because we don’t believe in heteronormative gender roles.
When everyone is settled with heaping plates balanced on their laps, my mom raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast to my beautiful daughter, who’s headed off on her very first summer theater adventure,” she says. “She deserves the best of the best. May Allerdale teach her as much as it taught the rest of us.” Her eyes are bright and kind and focused right on me, and it makes me feel warm all the way through. It’s not easy to impress her, and even though I know how much she loves me, times like these are few and far between.
“We’re so proud of you, Brookie,” Uncle Harrison adds, and my dad chimes in with a “Hear, hear.”
“And while she’s at Allerdale,” my mom continues, “may she meet a nice boy or girl to date. Or one of each. Or more than one of each!”
I roll my eyes. “You know I’d be totally happy with one boy.”
“You don’t know that if you haven’t tried—” she starts, but I cut her off.