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Kendall
I tossed and turned all night, dreaming about the hot dogs from Mo’s pushcart on the corner of Fifth and East 62nd Street. The Hawaiian dog is my favorite. Honey mustard, Canadian bacon, pineapple, and jalapeno relish. I’ve been known to eat two, which really annoys my best friend, Brit, because she can’t figure out where I put all the food I consume. Hot dogs alone wouldn’t have kept me up, though. I dreamed about Vaughn eating one, too. In nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs. In my defense, it’s all he’s wearing in Times Square. I may have slipped off the crowded sidewalk, twisting my ankle, the first time I laid eyes on the ad. Brit did a full-on face-plant, her four inch heels no match for jumbo sexiness.
I stare at my bedroom ceiling a minute longer, then kick off the bedsheets and use the bathroom. The girl in the mirror staring back has tired eyes. Her hair is a wavy mess. I tie it into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and wash my face with cold water. “Let’s see if he’s still here,” I tell my slightly more presentable reflection.
Nervous tingles invade my body as I head downstairs. Half of me hopes Vaughn is already gone—it is after ten—but the other half hopes he isn’t. Normally, I don’t think in halves, but Vaughn is…confusing. I don’t know how else to label the knot of anxiety and interest in my stomach. I’m worried that if he has this kind of effect on me when he’s drunk, what is seeing him up close when he’s sober going to do to me?
Doesn’t matter.
I pause midway to the family room to gather my wits and strengthen my walls. I’m an expert at letting people see only what I want them to see. Brit knows all my secrets, but that’s because Miss Psych Major is relentless. When talk of boyfriends came up our first week as roommates at NYU, I managed to give vague answers for only a few days. She wanted to connect with me, and despite being away from home and everyone who knew my story, I found myself letting her in.
So, she understood when I kept my nose in my books, because my grades mattered to me and they were something I could control. Focusing on school kept my mind off boys and kept my reputation sterling. I had fun and socialized, but mostly I stayed the course academically. I graduated with a 4.0 and scored a 170 on the LSAT. The plan is for me to go to law school and follow in my father’s footsteps. That I’m not in love with the plan is a complication I’m trying to figure out. As soon as possible.
Sounds in the kitchen get my feet moving again. Vaughn is awake and probably searching for his keys. I’ve had some time to think about what to say to him this morning, so I round the corner with purpose.
And trip over my own feet.
Vaughn isn’t in the kitchen. My half sister is. “Dixie?” Holy shit. Maybe I’m still dreaming. I blink her away, but she’s still there. The typical mashup of dread and possibility fills my empty stomach.
She lifts her head from buttering a piece of toast and looks at me like I’m something that crawled out of a drainpipe. “Hello, princess.”
Her hollow greeting guts me. We haven’t seen or talked to each other in a while and, foolish me, I always think time will bring a level of acceptance to our relationship. I swallow the disappointment, because a show of vulnerability only rewards Dixie’s habit of sharpening her claws on me. “What are you doing here?”
Dixie puts the knife down with a loud clank. “Three guesses, princess.”
“Please don’t call me that.” It’s an old nickname, and it brings back bad memories of summers spent hosting my half sisters. Forced interaction with two sullen girls with features similar to my own and absolutely nothing else in common. Dad cheated on Amber’s mom with Dixie’s mom, and then married neither. He was having a little problem with alcohol at the time. Three months into recovery he met my mom, and that relationship stuck. My half sisters collected child support and summers with Dad, and resented me because I had the “real” family complete with two parents, a dog, and a pink canopy bed.
Dixie just smirks. “If the glass slipper fits…”
It’s been only sixty seconds and I’ve had enough. I point to my bare feet. “I don’t see any glass slipper, do you? I do see my size sevens, and one of them is going to leave an imprint on your backside if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here.”
She shrugs and takes a bite of her toast, chewing slowly while I wait. Finally, she washes it down with a sip of coffee. “What do you think I’m doing here? Aunt Sally asked me to house-sit.”
“Impossible. She asked me to house-sit.”
A staring contest ensues. There’s no mistaking we’re related if you look at our eyes. We both have our father’s baby blues. A characteristic Dixie hates.
I know I’m not wrong about Aunt Sally inviting me here. She said she wanted me to have the summer to decompress and weigh my options before I start school in the fall.
My stomach cramps. My aunt is the only person I’ve told I don’t want to go to law school. She offered me time to be by myself and think about a back-up plan, and, since I hate the idea of going home, I jumped at her suggestion. I don’t know if I have the courage to change course and disappoint my dad, but I am sure doing something my heart isn’t in will only make me a bigger mess. I stand to lose more than three years of my life to a law degree. I stand to lose my happiness, something I’ve finally come to believe I deserve after fulfilling my punishment for my drunken teenage offense.
Dixie lifts her phone to her ear.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Calling Aunt Sally. She’ll tell you I’m staying here.”
Meaning staying together is out of the question. I plop down on a barstool at the breakfast bar. Dixie hates me. She hates that our father never thought of her mother as anything more than a few quick fucks—her words not mine—and then he married my mom, and they had me. They’ve been married for twenty-three years. They haven’t all been easy. My parents have had their ups and downs, but he loves my mom. Loves me.
“No answer,” Dixie says, putting the phone down.
Our aunt and uncle are on a cruise, so I’m not surprised. And now that I’m looking at my sister, I’m not all that shocked to see her. My aunt has always been the glue to keep my sisters and me in touch.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, hoping to cut through some of the strain between us. I understand Dixie’s animosity. She’s led a very different life than me. But I’m not to blame for my dad’s indiscretions.
“How long have you been here?” she asks.
“I got in last night.” Vaughn! “Umm…I’ll be right back.” I hurry into the family room, only to find he’s gone. Disappointment drags my shoulders down. Which is unsettling. Guys don’t disappoint me.
