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“Thailand, near the coast. But I’m leaving for the jungle tomorrow. Thought I’d give you a call, as I won’t have service for a few weeks.”
Summer instantly calls bullshit on my story. “Lana told you to check in on me, didn’t she?”
“She did,” I admit.
“Guess you’re up to date on all the big news, then.”
“I am, and to be honest, I’m glad you’ve broken up with Johnathan. He’s a cockroach who never deserved you or Lana.”
“True. Which only makes me feel worse…” Her voice cracks again.
I swallow back all the harsh retorts that pop into my head and try to be conciliatory.
“At least now it’s over,” I say.
I’m not being the most uplifting, but… I’m trying.
“Can we… not talk about any of that, please?” Summer pleads. “Tell me about your trip. How’s the team? Mom’s worried because you’ve never worked with any of them before…”
That’s all the encouragement I need to tell my sister how I ended up working for Satan.
“He sounds like a handful,” Summer chuckles when I’m done. And that deep part of me that is linked to her for life whoops with joy that I could cheer her up a little. “How about the rest of the team? Anyone interesting?”
“Bah, the security team guys are all buffs, but they take themselves too seriously. The only fascinating fella is the topographer.”
“Fascinating how?”
“Think tall Viking warrior with dirty-blond hair and ice-blue eyes that stand out against his tan skin. Oh, and did I mention? The man has a beard.”
“Ew. I hate beards.”
“Just because you’ve never kissed one; his looks like the soft type.”
“Well, enjoy your bearded Viking.” Summer yawns. “I’ll let Mom know your team is cool.”
Leader aside, I think, but only say, “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I have no response, and she doesn’t say anything else. Suddenly our easy flow of conversation is gone, and things become super awkward again.
After a few seconds, Summer yawns again, a bit too loudly to be genuine. “Well, the movie’s over, and I have to go if I want to wake up at a decent hour tomorrow…”
“Yeah, right. Of course.”
“Thanks for calling.”
For a few brief, wonderful minutes, we’ve been the Knowles twins again, inseparable from birth. But now we’re back to walking on eggshells around each other. I still haven’t forgiven Summer for what she did, and she knows it. A conversation, no matter how nice, isn’t enough to mend our relationship.
But, as I said: baby steps.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll let you get to sleep. Night.”
“Night.”
When the line goes dead, I drop the phone on the nightstand and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Lana was right: holding a grudge is no good. Now that I’ve talked to Summer, I feel a million times better, at least mentally.
