“Louna’s graduating tonight,” William explained to Bee. “High school.”
“Really?” She smiled at me. Beside her, Ambrose noticed William’s fancy stainless-steel tape dispenser—we were both suckers for office supplies—and pulled it toward him. “Congratulations!” Bee said. “What a milestone. I remember every minute of my commencement.”
“Me, too,” Ambrose said. I noticed that his hair, although damp, was in full effect, that one curl pushed away from his face but about to tumble down again.
“You didn’t graduate,” his sister pointed out. To us she added, “It was one of those leave-quietly-and-we-won’t-expel-you kind of situations. Classic Ambrose.”
“I was talking about yours,” he said, pushing the button on the dispenser. It whirred, spitting out a single piece of tape. “And it was never proven that I brought the cow in, if you’ll recall.”
My mother raised that one eyebrow. “Cow?”
“So what are you doing next year, Louna?” Bee said quickly, turning her attention back to me. Whatever had happened with farm animals, she didn’t want to dwell on it.
“I’m going to Rice-Johnson,” I replied.
“It’s a private liberal arts college, her first choice, and she got a partial scholarship,” William added proudly.
“That’s great,” Bee told me, as Ambrose hit the switch again. Then again. Two pieces of tape popped out and he grabbed them, sticking them to his thumbs. “I went to Defriese. Majored in public policy. I loved college.”
“It’s just so hard to believe,” William told her. “I feel like she just started kindergarten. Time just flies.”
Oh, dear, I thought, hearing his voice grow tight as he finished this sentence.
“William, pace yourself,” my mom, also noticing, advised. “We’ve still got the whole night ahead of us.”
He nodded, even as he took out a folded tissue, dabbing at his eyes. If my mom and William were one person—and it often felt like they were, to me—she’d always been the head and he the heart. Sure, they were equally cynical when it came to their business and the main concept that underscored it. But if she could joke or reason away anything that made her feel, it was often because William took it to heart twice as hard. This was especially true when it came to me. First day of kindergarten, first sleepover, first time my heart was broken; it was William who sympathy cried or clung to my hand just a beat too long before I walked out the door. And thank God for it. I loved my mom, but with just her I might have never known what compassion looked like.
“Speaking of later plans, we need to move this along,” he said now, looking at the notebook open in front of him. “To recap, we’ve touched on the latest with the venue and catering, and I’ll reach out to these top three of the five ideals for the rehearsal dinner to check on availability. Are the guest numbers still pretty firm for that?”
Bee, in pearl earrings with her hair pulled back in a daisy-patterned headband, flipped open the cover of her tablet and swiped through a few screens. Beside her, Ambrose picked up the dispenser and turned it upside down, examining its base. “Seventy-eight with wedding party and all out-of-town family.”
“And you have sent invitations?” my mom asked.
“Four weeks ago,” Bee replied, sitting up straighter. It was obvious she sensed my mom’s apprehension about this event and was eager to please her. “So far we’re at two hundred RSVPs, with a final estimate of two hundred fifty.”
My mom glanced at William, who gave her a smug look. Big weddings meant big money and, with Bee’s fiancé, Kevin Yu, from a family that owned a big pharmaceutical company, big attention. Personally, I wanted to know if she planned to change her name, switching from Bee Little to Bee Yu, but had not found a way to work this into a meeting. Yet.
“You really think any place that you’d want to use can handle a party of seventy-eight on a Friday night only nine weeks out?” my mom asked, as Ambrose, apparently still fascinated by the dispenser, put it back on the table and pushed its button several times in a row: click, click, click.
“If there’s a possibility of a magazine spread, yes,” William replied, over the sound of the machine whirring, discharging tape pieces.
“You can’t make room where there isn’t any.”
“There’s always a way.”
In the midst of all of this, the machine started making a grinding noise. Then, a long squeak. We all looked at Ambrose, who reached out and hit the button again.
“I just feel that you—” my mom said, but that was as far as she got before Ambrose picked up the dispenser again, trying to turn it off. When he couldn’t, he stuck it in his lap, under the table, where it continued to grind louder and louder until I heard a pop. Suddenly there was a lot of tape on the floor at my feet, as well as a faint smell of smoke.
“Ambrose!” Bee screeched, losing her cool entirely. She whirled in her seat, snatching the dispenser from his lap. “God! Stop it!”
“I was just—” Ambrose said. Delicately, my mother reached down, pulling a piece of tape off her foot and putting it on her folder.
“I don’t care!” Bee said. “You’re always doing something and it’s never what you should be doing and now Mom’s had enough and I’m stuck with you so fucking shut up and sit there and don’t touch anything!”
Silence. Out of habit, I glanced at William, who looked both horrified and thrilled by this development. I had to admit I was, too. Bee cursing was wholly unexpected. My mom, however, was hardly fazed as she said, “All I’m saying is that I think you need to keep your expectations in check.”
At this, Bee burst into tears. As she put her hands to her pretty face, shoulders shaking, Ambrose patted her arm, then said to us, “It’s a stressful thing, a wedding.”
“Oh my god!” she screeched, wrenching away from him. She pushed back her chair, getting to her feet. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I need. . . .”
“Of course,” William said smoothly. “Restroom is around the corner. I’ll get you a water.”
I wasn’t sure that was going to help, especially after I heard how hard the bathroom door slammed a moment later. Nevertheless, he disappeared down the hallway with a bottle in hand, leaving me, my mom, and Ambrose alone. I looked down at the floor. Tape was everywhere.
“You know, Ambrose,” my mother said after a moment, “it would be a huge help to us if you didn’t drive your sister insane before August.”
Despite Bee’s breakdown and the tape explosion, there was only one thing I noticed as my mother said this: for the first time, she was talking in We when it came to this wedding. Bee was surely embarrassed. But thanks to said outburst, it looked like my mom was finally in.
“People never believe me when I tell them this,” Ambrose replied, folding his arms on the table. “But I’m not trying to annoy her. She’s just very sensitive.”
“You really think that’s the issue?” my mother asked.
He nodded, somber. “Always has been.”