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“Really? She’s great in the kitchen now,” Cole says thoughtfully. “Keeps me well-fed for sure.” He pats his flat stomach, drawing attention to how fit he is.
He’s seen me make sandwiches, soup, pizza rolls, and the chicken that was supposed to be for Henry, but if you heard him complimenting me, you’d think I serve up Michelin-rated dinners on the regular. It’s definitely a little bit of false bragging, but I’m happy for it.
“Well, I taught her everything she knows,” Mom adds. That’s true, actually. Mom taught me how to make chicken that won’t poison anyone and ground beef with a sprinkle of packaged seasonings. Other than that, she shooed me out of the kitchen because I was in her way.
“How’s the garden?” I ask Dad, choosing a topic that I know will last.
His face lights up the way it always does when he talks about his babies, the flowers, bushes, and plants he cares for. Within seconds, he’s off, telling us all about the new fiddle leaf fig he ‘rescued’ from the plant store while Mom looks at him like he’s the most interesting man on the planet, though I’m sure she’s heard this story ten times already.
And I’m happily listening, glad the attention is off Cole and me, until a voice says, “Hey, Sideshow!”
It’s Jessica. She was allowed to watchThe Simpsonsfrom a young age, something I couldn’t do until I was a teen, and bestowed me with the clown nickname because of my wild red curls. The name’s nothing new, but it’s annoying all the same. In the hopes of shutting it down for the eight hundred thousand, fifty-eighth time, I ask, “Aren’t you tired of that yet?”
She laughs like that’s ridiculous. Like Dad, Jessica prefers her humor dipped in plaster and written in stone, to forever be humorous. To her, at least.
Cole does something I’ve never been able to do—shut Jessica up. He wraps one of my ringlets around his finger, tugging gently. “I love Janey’s hair. It’s different and beautiful, not boring, plain brown.” He sounds wistful about my hair, all the while, insulting Jessica’s brown tresses.
Ooh, he’s a slick one. Shutting down Dad about my cooking and Jessica with her annoying nickname.
I’m secretly thrilled and have to shift from one foot to the other to keep from doing a happy dance.
“Who’re you?” Jessica asks with narrowed eyes.
“Cole, Janey’s boyfriend,” he answers proudly, forcibly dragging his attention away from me to glance at her. He doesn’t bother asking who she is, and I can see that it irks Jessica.
I’m going to hell for it, but I’m glad Cole’s here, playing the part of my boyfriend. Just seeing the looks on all their faces makes whatever eternal damnation I’ll suffer worth it.
“Oh, there’s Paisley,” Mom says in a hushed voice like we’re not all here to see her. And she’s off on the topic of the day. Not meeting my boyfriend for the first time, of course. That’s small potatoes.
The wedding, though?That’simportant.
“I haven’t seen her dress yet, but you know it’s going to be gorgeous. Paisley wouldn’t have it any other way.” Mom nods, certain of that. “They went into town and tried on dozens of them before she picked one, but it’s been all hush-hush, top secret.”
She looks left and right like someone might overhear her gossiping. “I hope she picked a white one, at least. Wedding dresses should be white... and lacy... and elegant.” She’s obviously given this a lot of thought. “You know, kids these days are getting married in pink dresses? And black ones? I saw it on a TV show and thought ‘that’s not a wedding dress’, but I guess if that’s what she wants...” She trails off, shrugging like it’s none of her business seconds after judging an entire industry. Mom’s a traditionalist, to say the least.
“Well, Paisley’ll look beautiful, I’m sure,” Dad comments, on Mom’s side no matter what. She could say that the moon’s made of dried Oreo filling and he’d nod agreeably.
“They’re having the ceremony at that event center,” Mom says as she starts rehashing everything she knows about the impending nuptials.
“I’m ajuniorbridesmaid. Can you believe that shit?” Jessica sneers when Mom pauses to take a breath. She somehow manages to make it sound like a brag that she’s more than me, but at the same time, completely beneath her to be a ‘junior’ anything.
“Jessica, please watch your language. Young ladies don’t speak like that,” Mom corrects her gently.
If I’d cursed when I was thirteen, especially in a fancy restaurant, I would’ve been grounded for life. Not that I would’ve dared to say that... well, not where Mom could hear. But Jessica? She curses loud, proud, and with no care and is barely reprimanded. Somehow, that’s supposed to be one of those ‘mistakes’ they’re correcting with her.
Jessica rolls her eyes at the admonishment. “Whatever. It’s stupid that I’m not a regular bridesmaid. It’s not like I’m a child.”
“Beg to differ,” I mutter under my breath, thinking no one will hear me. Or listen.
But Mom does.
“Janey!” she hisses. “Be nice to your sister. Her feelings are a little hurt is all. She’s sensitive, you know.”
She’s sensitive. Jessica? The Menace is sensitive?
Meanwhile, Jessica’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat at having gotten away with her rudeness.
“Everyone, please sit down. Dinner is served,” Uncle Teddy announces formally. He’s wearing a button-up shirt and bolo tie, black slacks, and boat shoes. An odd combination of not-formal attire, but for him, it’s pretty razzle-dazzle. Uncle Teddy’s probably one of my favorite people in my family, mostly because he used to give us as many Otter Pops as we wanted and made sure I got my favorite purple ones every time. That was partially because Paisley wanted the red ones so she could pretend they were lipstick, but still, at least I got my favorite too.
