“Mitch had his bachelor party last night. They rented a party bus.”
Oh, Lord. Mitch and his cavemen buddies out on the town inside a neon party bus spells trouble.
She sucks in a breath. “He… he cheated on me.” Nami holds up her phone. She’s got video, somehow, that one of Mitch’s friends sent to him. While part of it is blurred, it’s pretty obvious Mitch is getting a blow job in boomerang style in the back of a party bus. Ew. That is so much more of Mitch than I ever wanted to see in my whole life.
“How did you get this?”
“I hacked his phone,” Nami says, unashamed. “All his passwords are some combination of ‘Ditka’ and ‘1986,’ in honor of the Bears’ Super Bowl victory.”
“Of course they are.”
“How could he do this to me? How could he?” Her raised voice is thick with anger and betrayal and shock. She coversher face with her hands and sinks into my couch. I gently take the seat next to her, and wrap my arm around her shoulders. They shudder with her sobs.
“I’m so, so sorry, Nami.” Now would probably not be the time to mention that I always thought Mitch was a dud, and that his friends were only half a gene sequence above Neanderthals, so it’s no surprise he did this. He’d probably been thinking about it all along, as he quietly said, “Yes, babe” to everything Nami said.
“You were right. About everything. About Mitch not deserving all this effort. About him being lazy.” She sniffs, loudly. “When I asked him why he did it, why he cheated, he said, ‘Babe, what was I supposed to do? Say no?’ He couldn’t even saynoto a blow job from a random stranger. Because that would takeeffort.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry, Nami. I’m so sorry.”
“You were even right about going solo. All this time, I thought you were… I don’t know… selfish for doing it, but you were right, Sora. I should’ve listened to you.”
I feel like the clouds might part and a divine light might shine down on me, because there’s no way Nami just admittedIwas right about anything.
“You’re saying I’malwaysright? That you shouldalwayslisten to me?”
“Don’t push it,” she growls. Nami leans into me, though. “Oh! And I haven’t even told Mom, yet. She’ll be heartbroken!”
“Do you… really think so?” I ask, skeptical, remembering just how much Mom doesn’t like Mitch.
Nami blinks and pushes away from me. “What do you mean? MomlovesMitch.”
“Does she?” I stare at Nami. Nami stares back at me.
“Are you serious? She doesn’t like Mitch either? Why didn’t you two tell me? Why are you always ganging up on me?”
“Us ganging up on you?” I ask, shocked. “It’s you and Mom who are always ganging up on me! With the diet stuff and the exercise classes and my personal life choices.”
“Not true,” Nami sputters. “You always gang up on me about the guys I date. Remember John?”
“In college? He was always jealous of everything you did.” I snort my disapproval.
“See? You two are always talking about me. Judging me.”
Huh. That’s exactly what I think Nami and Mom are always doing. Maybe I’m not the third wheel I always thought I was in this family.
“Ugh. I miss Dad. At least he’d just yell at us and then we couldn’t argue anymore,” Nami says.
“Yeah. He did that.” We stare at each other a beat, both realizing that’s probably not the healthiest way to communicate as a family. “His temper was—”
“Awful? Do you remember how any little thing could set him off?”
“Of course! He’d step on a Lego and start cursing up a storm,” I say, remembering.
“Or if we left the cereal box open.”
“Or if we were too loud.”
“Or if we were too quiet!”
