“Do you have a problem with that?”
The noise he lets out in response suggests that he doesn’t.
And then we’re blinded by a sudden and brutal flood of light.
I fling myself off of James so fast I fall on the floor. I scramble upright, tugging my clothes into place, while James does the same with his as he swings into a sitting position on the sofa.
“Ivy!” I say, because she’s standing by the light switch. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry.” She switches the light off.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I snap. “Just leave it on.”
She flicks it back on. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “I heard some noises and didn’t know what you were doing. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” James says. “Don’t worry about it.” He glances at me ruefully. “I’m sure my heart will start beating again any minute now.” He reaches down for his shoes. “I need to get home anyway.”
I walk him to the door, where we kiss each other goodbye, but we’re both too aware of Ivy watching us from the other side of the room to do more than just touch lips, and then he leaves.
I turn around. Ivy’s standing there in her pajamas—?old-fashioned ones, in matching red and gold stripes, because Mom buys her clothing and that’s the kind of thing moms buy.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks, her hands cycling anxiously through the air. “I probably shouldn’t have turned on the light.”
“It’s fine.” I’m annoyed, but if Ivy thinks you’re angry at her, she gets more and more anxious and starts hitting herself—?it’s not worth it. And she didn’t do anything wrong. She just has this talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“What were you doing with the lights off?” she asks.
“Come on, Ives,” I say. “You know what we were doing.” She’s twenty years old, and Mom bought picture books when we were little that explained all about changing bodies and sexual attraction. And Ivy watches tons of TV. There’s no way she doesn’t know what goes on between a guy and a girl in the dark.
“Were you having sex?”
“Jesus!”
“What?”
“You don’t just ask stuff like that.”
“I’m sorry.” She clutches the collar of her pajama top and tugs down hard like it’s choking her. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. Just don’t ask stuff like that in front of other people, okay? And we were making out, that’s all.”
“That’s different from sex, right?”
I feel a surge of anger—?not at her, just at a world where I have to explain what making out is to my older sister. “Yeah. You don’t go as far.”
“Far? What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m too tired to talk now, Ives. I want to go to bed.”
“How do you know what to do?” she asks, raising her head to stare briefly at me before sliding her eyes away again. “When you’re with James?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something you think about. You just kind of know.”
“What if you don’t?”
“You just do.” I walk past her into the hallway and up the stairs.
But, then, in the bathroom, as I’m brushing my teeth, I freeze suddenly, struck by a whole new thought. What if Ivy isn’t asking questions just because she’s curious about my life?
What if it’s not all about me?
When I come back into the bedroom, Ivy’s curled up with her iPad, and I can hear dialogue coming from the tablet.
“What are you watching?” I ask.
“Ten Things I Hate about You.”
“That’s the one with the two sisters and Heath Ledger?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t usually watch movies.” Ivy’s more of a TV show fan. Especially police procedurals—?she eats that stuff up.
“I like this one,” she says. “I’ve seen it before.”
Interesting. She’s not only watching this movie; she’s rewatching it. “That’s the one with the father who won’t let the younger daughter date until the older one has a boyfriend, right?”
“Yeah. If Mom made that rule, you couldn’t go out with James because I don’t have a boyfriend.”
I don’t know how to respond to that.
“It’s a good thing Mom didn’t make that rule,” she says. “I probably won’t ever have a boyfriend.”
“Sure you will.”
“I don’t think so. Chloe?”
“What?”
“I want to watch my movie.” She leans over the screen again so her face is partially veiled by her hair. She’s absorbed by what she’s watching. Curious—?the way she was curious about me and James.
I lie awake for a long time, thinking about Ivy and her curiosity and how sad she sounded when she said she might never have a boyfriend of her own.
Seven
THE NEXT MORNING, Mom says she needs to do a supermarket run. Ron’s at the gym and Ivy hates food shopping, so I offer to keep Mom company—?it’ll give me a chance to talk to her alone. We grab some canvas grocery bags and head to the car.
I launch into the subject as soon as we’re on our way. “Hey, Mom? Do you ever worry that Ivy seems a little lonely?”
“Are you kidding? I worry about that every single day.”
“It just feels like there’s nothing in her life except going to school and playing on her iPad and watching TV.”
“I know. I wish I could change that, but I’ve got a lot going on these days and just don’t have the time or energy to figure out a solution.”
She’s never had the time or energy to solve problems—?just throws up her hands and waits for someone else to deal with them.
And I’m the only other person who really cares about Ivy.
“I think Ivy wants a boyfriend.”
“What?” Mom brakes too hard at a red light and turns to stare at me, horrified. “Why would you say that? She’s never said anything like that to me.”
“Last night she saw me and James . . . you know . . . kissing and stuff.”