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Even with all that frugality, I’d needed to take out some loans. But thanks to buckling down, it hadn’t been astronomical. Thank goodness, because then I had a little sister to raise, which wasn’t cheap.
Did I miss out on some of the most fun and carefree years of my life? Yes, absolutely. And, quite frankly, I never got them back. In quiet moments, I had some regrets about not living it up while I could have, before life forced me to grow up.
But if I’d done that, Wren’s life would have been a lot harder too. No new school outfit shopping every August. No concerts or Broadway shows. No spending money for coffee or going to the movies.
So I just kind of had to move on and accept that I’d missed out on that light, carefree stuff.
It made me happy, though, that Wren didn’t need to.
When she’d chosen not to go to college, taking off with her first boyfriend instead, you could say I’d been a little miffed.
Then…
Nope.
Not going there.
I was trying to keep things positive.
Wren talked to me about her professors, her dorm room, her roommate, about the food. She got more lively and animated with each passing moment. And because she was distracted, she shoved all the lasagne in her mouth.
Because, for a few short minutes, she forgot.
And it was my goal in life to make those “few short minutes” become hours, then days, then maybe even weeks or months.
It would all be worth it if we could get to that point.
“You know what sounds amazing? Ice cream,” she said, shooting me a wicked little smile. “Do you have strawberry?”
Did I have strawberry?
What an absurd question.
It didn’t matter what day of the week or week of the month or month of the year you opened my freezer, you could always count on finding three things. Frozen pizzas for lazy nights, a bag of questionably freezer burnt broccoli for when I’d been eating too many frozen pizzas in a row, and a tub of strawberry ice cream.
I didn’t even really like it that much. But it was Wren’s favorite. And I always had it on hand.
“No, you know what? Nevermind. This was too much already,” she said, putting her plate on the coffee table like she was suddenly disgusted by it. “I don’t need it.”
“Ice cream is never about need,” I told her, jumping up to go to the freezer. “Ice cream is about want. And if we want it, and it’s here, I don’t see any reason not to have some.”
With that, we did.
And it wasn’t long before Wren was stretching and yawning.
“I should get going,” she said. “I have an early class,” she added, getting to her feet.
“Okay. Yeah. Sleep is important. Give me a second to get my shoes and bag.”
“You don’t need to wait with me for an Uber,” she insisted, rolling her eyes the way only someone who saw you as a parental figure could.
“First of all, you’re taking a cab, not a predator-laden Uber. Secondly, I am taking it with you, making sure you get into your dorm, then coming home.”
“That’s ridiculous, Whit. It costs twice as much.”
“It’s worth it keeping my little sister safe,” I told her, figuring that the hundred-dollar bill I’d been stashing in my wallet like a keepsake could go to much better use. And maybe I’d stop obsessing about what had happened just before he’d given it to me.
“You’re over-the-top and I love you for it,” she told me as we moved out into the hall.
