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“Yeah. Please do.”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m really happy for you, Frank. Truly.” I do my best to sound sincere. I trulydowant my sister happy.
“I know you are. Love you!”
I quickly end that call and take the other. “Hey, Jack.”
“Hey, my little Mandy Cake,” he says.
Mandy Cake. He’s called me that since we could both talk. Pancakes were Jackson’s favorite breakfast as a kid. His mom would make them in the shape of a bear, and his favorite bear was a panda. He called them pandy cakes, so I became Mandy Cake.
And I’mstillMandy Cake, which tells the truth of our relationship. He’ll never see me as anything other than that toddler in diapers who used to eat pandy cakes with him.
“I thought I’d come over and take you out to dinner,” Jackson continues.
That’s code for,I don’t have a date tonight.
Don’t get me wrong. I know Jack loves me as much as I love him. Just in a totally different way. In a “we’ve been friends forever” kind of way. And most days, I convince myself it’s enough.
“Sure, that’d be nice.”
“Dress up. There’s a new sushi place I want to try downtown.”
Jack and I love sushi. It’s our guilty pleasure whenever we’re together. “Sure.”
“Great. Pick you up in an hour?”
“I’ll be ready.”
As the line goes dead, I can’t help but feel the finality echo in my bones.
My sister is getting married…and I am going to be alone forever. Living for the occasional night Jack isn’t hooking up with his flavor of the month and wants to try a new restaurant with his dorky best friend.
And just like that, I realize I can either feel sorry for myself…
Or I can do something about it.
On impulse, I pull up the app store on my phone. I need to swallow my fear and put myself out there—and move the hell on from this unrequited hole I’ve been napping in sincehigh school, for God’s sake. There are only about a thousand dating apps to choose from.
My hands shake as I type “lustr” into the search bar and pull up the app.
I create a profile quickly but then realize I don’t know what to do after that. Nothing about me is remotely interesting. And a photo? God help me.
Jackson. I’ll ask Jackson to help me. He’s always finding someone new to hook up with, so he’ll know exactly how to help me set up my profile to get the most action.
I smile. This will work out after all.
…
“Lustr?” Jackson shakes his head as he spears a piece of spicy tuna roll with his chopsticks. “Seriously, Mandy Cake?”
We’ve had the “Mandy Cake” discussion many times. I’ve asked him to stop calling me that, and he’s said, “Really? You’ll always be Mandy Cake to me.”
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Which is the problem. I’ll always be Mandy Cake, despite the fact that he stopped beingJackie Lanternto me when I hit puberty.
