AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Brooke thinks on it and then nods. “As long as it’s not anywhere near Momo.”
She gets bored of the conversation shortly after that, not having been overly impressed with the mushroom-stuffed tortellini—though she did inhale two cups of lemonade. She’s up and wandering back to her play set for a swinging session before Ashley or I get anywhere close to being done with ours.
When we’re both pretty much full, I eye up the large amount of tortellini that is still left in the container we ate from. “I might have made too much of this.”
“That just means you have leftovers for later,” says Ashley.
I smile at her, popping the lid on the container and sliding it toward her. “Why don’t you take it home?” Teasingly, I add, “It might keep you out of the kitchen a little bit longer.”
Ashley laughs. “You might be joking, but there’s no way that I’m going to pass on a chance to bring your cooking home.”
She grabs the container as she gets up, heading out of the yard through the back gate. I watch after her fondly as she goes, grateful to have run into her today.
I take the second container of tortellini inside and put it in the fridge for Sasha to eat after work. As I step back out, I watch Brooke play in the sand on this perfect evening, and I notice my mood is miles better.
Chapter two
Ashley
“Youhavetobemore careful about what you post,” insists Heather, shaking her pink-cased cellphone at me. “This kind of thing could seriously get us in trouble.”
“It’s literally just a picture of me sitting outside,” I tell her, frowning. “Why are you cyber stalking my Instagram?”
“Dad told me I had to make sure that we only post good pictures,” Heather says. She sounds frustrated. I can’t tell if it’s at me, or at our father. Either way, she’s clearly having a bad day. We have a great relationship, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get on each other’s nerves—and it doesn’t stop us from getting into fights, either.
I snatch the phone away from her and press the like button beneath my picture. “There. You made sure it was a good picture. It has your seal of approval on it.”
“Your bra strap is visible,” hisses Heather. “Do you know what dad is going to say about that?”
“My bra strap isn’t going to stop dad from getting re-elected. I’m putting on a good front and I’m wearing an amazing outfit that is totally appropriate. And I always make sure that my pictures look good,” I argue. “Women wear bras. Sometimes, the strap is going to show. It happens, it’s normal, and it’s fine to have in a picture. That’s a great shot. Look how lovely the sunset is behind me!”
Heather snatches the phone back and shoves it in the back pocket of her skinny jeans. “You need to take it down.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh and stand up. “Heather, I love you, but that’s not happening.”
“Ashley! I mean it!” Heather follows me as I make my way across the living room and over to the front door. “When dad sees it, he’s going to flip a switch. And then I’m going to get in trouble for letting you post it.”
I grab my jean jacket off the hook and slide it on. “You don’tletme post things, Heather. Just because dad is acting totally mental about this whole re-election business, that doesn’t mean the whole family has to be drinking the same juice. My picture is fine. It is. And if he has a problem with it, he can come to me—and I’ll tell him the same thing.”
Heather is two years younger than me and she’s steadfast in her loyalty to our dad. And since she has her own political aspirations, she looks up to him even more and wants to make him happy. She’s way more of a ‘daddy’s little girl’ than me. I feel bad, even guilty sometimes, for all the pressure she ends up with when it comes to our parents.
I used to cave into my father’s requests too—up until I was her age, maybe a bit younger. I applied to the college he wanted me to and majored in what he considered appropriate for his daughter. And when I graduated, I stopped volunteering for projects in our community—the only thing he had talked me into that I actually enjoyed—and started working at a real estate agency. The job—I don’t really like it. What’s to like about sitting on a computer and doing a little bit of everything to keep the company organized? It’s not like I’m out meeting with people, selling them houses. But at least, the pay is good and soon I’ll have saved enough money to get out of here.
Heather’s lower lip juts out. “Or you could just make it easy on us both and take it down.”
She doesn’t get it. If there’s always someone scrutinizing every move we make, every thought we have, nothing will ever be enough.
Dad is a member of the city council and after—hopefully— getting re-elected this year, he plans to make a move for a higher position next year. For some reason, though, these elections have gotten to him. While he’s always been set in his ways and somewhat controlling, he’s recently started to micro-manage everything that we do. It was irritating to begin with but the longer that it goes on, the more frustrated I am with the whole process.
I need to have a serious talk with her about this, but not now. I’m too worked up and I really don’t want to take it out on her. Getting some fresh air will do me some good.
I slide into my black flip-flops. “That’s not going to happen. Seriously, Heather, put your phone down and go do something that you actually think is fun. It’s going to make you feel better.”
And then I pull open the front door and step outside, letting it click shut behind me with just a quick wave and a flash of a smile over my shoulder. The front walk is paved and lined with carefully maintained flowers.
I make my way down the drive and then out through the archway in the fence. There’s a beautiful, well-maintained path that leads down to the lake. We technically don’t live lakeside, but it’s close enough—just a quick walk. And totally worth it, too.
It’s almost ten at night. The sky is a black expanse above me. The bright silver stars that have been scattered about reflect back on the still surface of the water. While some sections of the bank are more wild, there are areas that have been specifically tended for people to come and enjoy.
