“Positive. But first, explain this sign-up sheet.”
It’s hard to tell if she’s saying that because she wants to be here or if she’s only being nice out of respect for me. Either way, I’m not going to push her. The second she looks like she wants to bolt, we’re gone.
“All the adults take turns playing lifeguard. You sign up for a thirty-minute slot and have to watch the water to make sure the kids don’t accidentally drown.” I gesture to the homemadelifeguard’s chair, painted hot pink, sitting smack-dab in the middle of the lowest patio, right at the edge of the water.
The lake must be freezing right now, but the kids don’t seem to mind.
“That’s really smart.”
“Yeah, well, when there are this many people, you learn to mitigate the mayhem.” After a close call when we were kids, we had to step up our game. As long as one person is on duty, everyone else can relax. We all take the responsibility very seriously. No distractions, no phones allowed, that sort of thing.
Loren and I make our way down the brick path to where someone has taped a piece of paper onto the screen door. Names fill each of the lines, but there’s a gap around noon.
I sign us up for that slot, figuring we’ll both need a break from my family by then. Plus, most of the kids will be out of the water eating burgers and hot dogs, so it won’t be as hectic.
Inside the house, it’s like an airport gate, with people running this way and that. Except, instead of suitcases, they’re hauling colorful beach towels or condiments or sand toys. I take Loren’s cookies and set them beside the pies and cakes and weird cool-whipped concoctions our grandmother and her sisters make. Inside the kitchen is a scene straight out of the 1950’s, with women bustling around in printed aprons while men stand outside on the deck talking shit. Three of my cousins with tiny babies sit in a circle in the living room, all breastfeeding their kids.
I feel like an outsider, so I can only imagine how awkward Loren must feel. A few people nod to me, but I’m saved from having to engage in conversation until Loren leaves me for the bathroom.
That’s when everyone descends, asking about business. Who the girl I’m with is. Where I’m living now. How I’ve been.
Coming from big families, they’re all used to this sort of mayhem, but most of my life it was just me, my mom, and my dad, so it’s hard to cope with all the commotion and conversations taking place at the same time.
The noise at the bar rarely gets to me because it’s not directed at me.
Today, I can’t get away from it.
Speaking of my parents, where are they?
From across the room, Uncle Arnie makes a beeline for me. He brews his own beer and has been trying for years to convince me to stock it at the bar. I’ve tried explaining about the laws regarding that sort of stuff, and that he would need to obtain a license and pass safety inspections and all that, but he doesn’t seem to get it.
I glance back down the hallway where Loren disappeared. I hate to leave her but cannot handle a conversation with Uncle Arnie unless I’ve had at least three or four drinks, so I head outside and sink onto one of the Adirondack chairs near the grill. Arnie’s head swings right and left, no doubt searching for me, but I keep my head down until he’s out of sight.
Loren steps out onto the deck, her gaze finding mine like a homing beacon. The scalloped hem of her sundress sways along her tanned legs as she crosses over to me. I jolt to my feet, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was hiding from someone.”
“Hopefully, not from me.”
“Never.”
My dad climbs the stairs, beer in one hand and a plate of hot wings in the other. When he sees me, he comes straight over.
This is it. One of the two moments I’ve been dreading. Not that I don’t want Loren to meet him. More like I’m afraid of what he’s going to say or do when he does meet her. I still remember when Alice and I were getting prom pictures taken and he cameout of his room wearing Mom’s fuzzy robe and hot-pink shower cap.
At least he’s wearing clothes today. “Loren, this is my dad, Ernest Grant. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Loren.”
Dad’s brow furrows as he looks Loren up and down, his sauce-stained lips pressing flat with disapproval. “You never told us you had a girlfriend.”
Loren’s head falls, her cheeks flaming pink. “That’s because he’s ashamed of me.”
Hold on. She thinks I’mwhat?“I am not ashamed of you.” I’m proud to call her mine. Have I not made that clear?
Dad sets his beer on the railing and swirls one of his wings through the blue cheese dressing glob on the side of his paper plate. “We raised him better than that, I assure you, Lily.”
Of all the scenarios I worried about, my dad acting like an asshole was not one of them. Doesn’t he know that’s mom’s job? “Her name is Loren, Dad.Loren.”
Loren’s shoulders start to shake. Great. He made her cry. I’m never going to forgive him for this. I step in front of my dad, blocking his view. “I’m sorry, Loren. Please don’t cry. We can go home right now.” Screw everyone here.
Her head lifts, and while therearetears in her eyes, she’s also smiling. Laughter bursts from her lips, and she starts cackling. Behind me, my dad sputters, his deep chuckle even more confusing.
