“Why don’t you just call someone to fix it?”
“Because he doesn’t want to spend the money on it. He says he can do it.”
My lips form a thin line. “Men are infuriating creatures.”
She lets out a laugh. “When did my daughter get so wise to the idiocy of men?”
I freeze for a moment, not wanting to mention Brayden, then give a shrug and a laugh to play it off. “Well, I did grow up glued to two idiot boys.”
That makes her laugh more and nod in agreement. “Very true.” She stands up and stretches. “I’m going to go change, then work on dinner.”
I wave at her and pick up the remote to restart my horror fest, but she turns back around.
“Oh, do you still have my earrings? I can’t find them.”
Oh, yeah, I wore her diamond earrings to prom. “Probably.”
“Can you get them?” She gives me an almost sad smile. “Your dad gave them to me.”
I nod, popping up from the couch and make my way up to my room, not wasting any time. The few things we have left from my dad are precious, especially to my mom. I know she still loves him and misses him, despite remarrying.
Steve can’t compare.
Mom’s earrings are somewhere in my jewelry box. I took them off after prom, but forgot to give them back to her. I flip the wooden lid open and stare down. Sometime soon, I really need to go through this chaos. It’s a tangled mess of shiny.
Every piece of jewelry I’ve ever owned is in here, and somewhere is my dad’s ID bracelet. Ryan still wears his watch and keeps his money clip, with the same initials, somewhere safe.
It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about him, my dad. I was so young when he died. The memories I have are faded, and some I’m not sure are even real or if they’re made up by a little girl who was desperate to cling to her daddy. His photo sits on my dresser, and another with the whole family is on my desk.
Mom says Ryan’s personality is a lot like Dad’s.
She wore his wedding band on a chain for years. It was such a staple in her wardrobe, but I don’t remember when she stopped.
Under a pile of knotted chains are the two white dots I’ve been searching for. I pluck them up, and sitting right beside them is my dad’s bracelet.
I pull it out and rub my thumb over the letters, slowly covering and exposing his name—Robert Roth. Mom bought it for him for his birthday when they were still dating. He wore it every day.
Pictures and a few tokens—that’s all we have left of him. And since moving to Ohio, we rarely get to see his side of the family.
Something else catches my eye in the box. Small pink beads and sequins. A flower-like shape.
A ring.
It was one of those cheap rings from a quarter toy dispenser.
It throws me back almost a decade. Me, Ryan, and Brayden rode our bikes down to the store. The boys were given a few bucks to pick up some snacks.
I was nine, and they were my whole world.
On our way out, I stopped to look at the machines. I didn’t have any money, and I remember begging Ryan for some.
That’s when Brayden came up behind me. He put a quarter into one of them and turned the knob. Out popped a plastic bubble case. He pulled it out and opened it up, taking the ring out.
I still remember how he smiled at me. The way he reached for my hand and slipped it onto my ring finger.
“Another pretty for the mermaid chest.”
I smiled at him. “You mean another pretty for the kraken to steal from me, jerk.”
He shrugged. “Krakens like pretty things.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded with certainty.
I eyed him. “Am I pretty?”
“I like you, don’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“Do I like you most of all?”
“You like Ryan most of all.”
He chuckled. “Well, he’s a guy, and they aren’t pretty.”
“Okay . . .”
“So, if I like you most of all, you must be prettiest of all.”
I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I ducked my head before swatting him in the stomach. “Suckup.”
It felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. Is it any wonder I fell in love with him?
I set it back down, then pick up the earrings and head out into the hall. A couple of steps in toward their room, I stop dead in my tracks.
“You’re going out?”
“Yes. I’m meeting the guys to watch the Reds game,” Steven says.
“Do you have to?” There’s a sort of defeat in her voice that I don’t like hearing.
“Is there a reason not to?”
“The garage door is still acting up. I was hoping you could fix it tonight.” Defeat quickly turns to annoyance.
I don’t know why I’m not moving, why I’m still standing feet outside their door.
“I told you I’d get to it.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks! I’m tired of not being able to use the garage.”
“I’ve been busy, Sonia.” Steven’s voice rises, an edge to it.
“You’ve been busy for weeks! Every time I ask you to do something, I have to ask you again over and over and over for days for something that would take you five minutes if you would just do it!”
She’s repeating words and talking fast—Mom’s sign for very annoyed.