She slaps both of her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Iris pulls out her phone to FaceTime Hayley, who picks up on the first ring. “Can we make this quick?” she shouts over the techno music pulsing in the background. “I can’t hear a thing.”
“That’s no problem,” Iris says. “First, I want to talk about the race.”
How had I forgotten about the mud race? Saturday morning, before the Fall Fest parade, teams have to slog through cold, wet muck; hurdle over barriers; climb shit; and do a heap of other stuff in order to get their names added to a plaque down at city hall.
“We need one more teammate to compete,” she goes on.
My sisters turn toward me, their eyes wide and pleading. Even Hayley pulls a guilt-trip face over the shot glass in her hand.
This is what always happens. They don’t do this shit over the phone because they know I can’t resist their onslaught of puppy-dog eyes and pouty mouths.Dammit.
I’m about to say, “No fucking way,” when I remember the little girl doing frontward rolls in the living room. Instead, I go with, “Not happening.”
“We need four people,” Iris pleads, clasping her hands beneath her chin like she used to when she wanted to ride my bicycle. Guess what happened when I finally let her? She crashed the thing.
I gesture toward the computer screen. “I’m sure Hayley’s willing to come back and run. Aren’t you, Buttons?”
The computer glitches, and her look of abject horror gets stuck on the screen.
Alex shakes her head. “Very funny. Unfortunately, at least two team members need to be men, which is total bullshit, but those are the rules.”
“Doesn’t Justin have any friends?” I ask Iris.
“They’re already on their own teams.”
Sarah would tell me to close my eyes and decide whether this opportunity makes me expand or contract. Expand means go for it. And I feel hella-contracted when I think of all those people watching me, talking about me…
But since not participating will let my sisters down, I ignore my instincts, drop my head, and utter, “Fine,” under my breath.
Iris promptly withdraws a neon pink monstrosity from a paper bag on the counter and hands it to me.Contract. Contract. Contract.
“I’m not wearing this.” No fucking way am I going to be caught dead in a T-shirt that says: “Welcome to the KINGdom.”
Alex nudges my shoulder. “Come on, Dyl. Dad came up with these himself.”
Why does that not surprise me? His jokes were always so terrible. A sharp pain moves through my chest. I’d give anything to hear him tell one right now so I could roll my eyes and ask how someone like me came from such a dork. “Still not wearing it.”
Iris returns the shirt to the bag with a huff. My therapist would high-five me for standing my ground on this. Boundaries and all that shit.
Someone shouts in the background of Hayley’s call. She twists to wave at whoever it is and then says, “Guys, I’m so sorry, but I gotta go.” Before we can say goodbye, the screen cuts to black.
“Is that everything?” I ask Iris, still wondering why we couldn’t have done this on a call.
Trading a look with Alex, Iris sighs and tucks a blonde curl behind her ear. “No, but I don’t want to talk about the rest without Hayley. Let me go potty, and I’ll bring you back to town.”
“Potty” goes right up there with “jammies” in the list of words I find myself saying thanks to the tiny demon running circles around Dad’s ratty old chair. If I squint my eyes, I swear I can see him sitting there, remote in hand, watchingThe Curse of Oak Island.
When tears start to well in my eyes, I turn my back before my sisters can ask me what’s wrong. “You take your time in the potty, Iris. I’m going to drive myself.” I’m sick and tired of being driven around like Miss Fucking Daisy. Also, the last thing I want is to end up having to ask my neighbor to drive me anywhere again. Talk about awkward.
Damn, now that I’m thinking about Jade, I can’t stop. Usually, I’m not a fan of women encroaching on my space unless it’s for a little adult-time fun, but having Jade in the apartment had been kinda nice. Probably because I’m so used to her being around from when we were younger.
Too bad that’s all over now, given she wants nothing to do with me. I definitely need my own mode of transportation.
Dad always used to hang his keys on this corny key-shaped piece of wood with hooks that we got him one Father’s Day. Sure enough, I find what I’m looking for right where he left it.
I slip the key off the hook and squeeze it tight. It feels all kinds of strange taking the thing without asking him first. I can almost hear him now: “You break it, you buy it.”
