Maybe I AM secretly a big, bad brand that wants to take advantage of the timid, cat-fearing likes of you,I offer.
Not too far from the truth, actually. Cookie would probably make a great mascot for the Farm & Holm website, if she were so inclined.
Pass.
Now, don’t be too hasty. You don’t know what you’re missing!
Maybe later, Furball. Gotta get to work. Duty calls.
Later, Hater! Xoxo, C
Hate You Later! Xxoo, O
Abruptly, Cookie quits the chat, leaving me wondering what exactly her duties are. I’m more curious than ever about her owner. Who is she? What does she do?
But of course, when I try to picture a face on that owner, the only face that comes up for me is the woman from The Onion and the pet boutique. I’m still stuck. I still can’t stop thinking about the battle pixie.
I can’t help imagining what it might be like, for example, ifshewere up for a totally different type of collab.
* * *
Later that afternoon, I head back to Holm Square to pick up Lilly. It’s quieter today. Most of the moms and kids have already gone home to make dinners and do homework and whatever other mysterious routines rule in suburbia. I can barely remember.
I observe my sister from behind as I sneak up on her. She’s sitting on a bench, tossing coins into the fountain. She’s inherited the Holm height and has the same blonde hair as me. I’m struck by how much she’s grown since the last time I saw her. That chubby toddler I remember so fondly, and who seemed to morph overnight into a sporty little spitfire, is now a lanky tween, poised on the cusp of something else. There’s nothing “baby” left, but Lilly’s also still very much a girl. She isn’t trying to look older than her age like so many tweens do. She’s about to turn twelve, which I know, from friends and past girlfriends, can be a tricky time. Lilly seems to be weathering it better than most, and for this I am grateful. I feel a surge of protective brotherly love.
I’ve never begrudged Lilly anything. From the moment she was born, I’ve adored her. Despite the fact that we’ve never lived in the same house and that her mother has always been such a problematic presence for me, we’ve managed to forge a bond. Weekend and holiday visits have been supplemented with FaceTime and online gaming. She got me hooked on Animal Crossing.
Maybe it’s not the most typical sibling bond, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. As far as I’m concerned, Lilly is one of the best things that’s ever happened to this family.
“Penny for your thoughts!” I pluck an AirPod from her left ear and place it in mine. “Woah, The Cure? Since when are you into them?” I keep the AirPod in and listen to the chorus of “Love Cats.”
“The Cure is classic!” Lilly jumps up onto the bench, turning to face me. Standing there, she’s practically the same height as me.
I embrace her in a bear hug.
“What have they been feeding you?” I ask. “You’re huge!”
“Hudson.” Lilly frowns sternly. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you aren’t supposed to comment on a preteen girl’s body and size? You could give me a complex. I could spend years in therapy, explaining that my body dysmorphia started when my big brother called me huge.”
I clap a hand over my mouth. “OMG, Lilly. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, all of us Holms are tall.”
She laughs and jumps down, pulling a skateboard from under the bench. “Shut up! I’m just messing with you. I love being taller than half the boys in my class. Keeps those mouth breathers in their place!”
I heave a sigh of relief.
“Make any good wishes?” I ask. “Has Great-Grandpa popped out yet to grant any of them?”
Lilly laughs. I’d shared my childhood fantasy with her when she was very young, and she’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
“No, it was more like target practice,” Lilly says, rolling her board under one foot. “I try to get the pennies to land in the jets. It’s fun to watch them shoot up with water when you do. I was thinking, more than wishing.”
“Wishful thinking?” I ask, sticking out a toe and stealing her board.
“Hudson!” she protests, but I can’t resist. I take the board for a lap around the fountain.
“Not bad, old man,” she says.
“Don’t forget who got you your first deck,” I say. “And you should be wearing a helmet.”
