I pointed out, “That’s not a soft spot. That’s opportunism.”
Mom said, “We waited until sunrise, but when we still hadn’t heard from you, we thought alerting them might smoke you out from wherever you were hiding. And we were right. Uncle Rocco saw the report, and called to say he’d seen you on the island yesterday.”
“Too much,” I said.
“I hardly think you’re in a position to criticize,” said Mom.
“We’ll talk about it when you get home,” said Dad. “Family meeting.”
I said, “I’m sorry. Really.”
Their faces disappeared from Langston’s phone as he ended the call. Langston said, “I’ve ridden this ferry back and forth five times, waiting for you.”
It was like he wanted me to say “Thanks.” I didn’t. I was so mad at him for being ready to move out of our family home. I wanted to be happy for his happiness with Benny, but I was so sad for me. They were ready. I wasn’t.
When I didn’t say anything, Langston added, “Dash came with me for the first few ferry trips. He was really worried, too.”
“Oh,” was all I said. Dash’s so-called worry was just like Dash’s Christmas tree gift. He acted like he wanted to be there for me, and then he prematurely abandoned ship. Cold, impassable. Why did he have to be so handsome and caring, but not in love?
Dash was such a complication in my life. I had more pressing concerns. Like, where would I be sent to live if my family home was being broken apart?
“He’s a decent guy,” said Langston, causing my head to do a near-360-degree headspin of shock.
“So you like Dash now?” I said, incredulous.
“I tolerate Dash now,” said Langston.
Everything I knew about the world was spun on its axis, and I was confused, and scared, but admittedly intrigued by the mystery and excitement of the new directions my life could possibly be going in. I said, “I tolerate that you and Benny might be happy together in your new apartment that I don’t approve of but will support anyway.”
“That’s how I feel about you dating Dash.” Pause. “He really cares about you.”
I thought, That’s the problem. I love. Dash cares. It hurt.
“Then why isn’t he here now?” I said.
“He had to get to school. Apparently Dash takes school more seriously than you have the last couple days.” My brother looked at me slyly and then asked, “So where were you, really?”
“At a gingerbread house–making orgy.”
Langston said, “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Lily. If you don’t want to tell me, just don’t.”
—
We returned home as Mom and Dad were frantically preparing to leave for a weeklong trip to Connecticut, for Dad’s school’s holiday party and to close out the academic semester at his job. They were also going so that Mom could see and experience the headmaster’s quarters for herself, with the expectation that they might move to the boarding school’s grounds in the new year.
The family meeting was over in a New York minute.
Academic punishment: Because I’d skipped school, the school’s policy was that I wouldn’t be allowed to make up the work from the two days of school I’d missed, and my grades would reflect the consequences. Also, I was suspended for the last two days of school till the holiday, which I didn’t understand at all, because that “punishment” was more like a present. Two more days off! So what if I couldn’t make up the schoolwork? I could use that time to bake cookies and walk dogs and make Christmas presents, and do lots more interesting stuff than being at school.
Parental punishment: Except for dog-walking duties, I was grounded till Christmas.
I’ve never been grounded before. I didn’t even know what it meant, technically. I didn’t think my parents did either, because they issued the proclamation just before leaving town, effectively rendering their punishment unenforceable. (I didn’t bring up that small point.)
Honestly, I didn’t feel that bad about giving my parents a sleepless night. I was a Manhattan girl. The Connecticut-considering deserters deserved the worry.
Grandpa, however, didn’t. He said, “I’m staying at my sister’s for a while. Too much commotion here. You don’t have to bother with taking me to doctor appointments anymore.”
“I like doing that, Grandpa!” I said.
He used his cane to lift the bottom of his pant leg, revealing a bruise on his shin. “See that?” he asked me, pointing to it with his cane.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You didn’t show up for your volunteer shift at the rehab center is what happened! Sadie in room 506 was so angry not to have you reading to her today that she actually kicked me.”
“Sorry, Grandpa.”
“And I lost big guessing at Wheel of Fortune without my good-luck charm sitting beside me.”
“Sorry, Grandpa.”
“I hate Wheel of Fortune! The only thing that makes it tolerable to watch with all those old fuddy-duddies is having you there to watch it with us.”
“Sorry, Grandpa.”
What kind of monster was I?