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“No.”
“Mostly boys?”
“No.”
Sabrina looks briefly confused, then delighted. “You don’t want to exclude nonbinary people!”
“So,” Darcy interjects, “whenare you guys going to have sex?”
Nolan’s “Hard to tell” overlaps with my “Never!” and completely swallows it.
I face- palm.
“I bet Mallory’s really good at it. She sure practices a lot.”
Nolan gives me a long, assessing look that’s mercifully interrupted by Mom arriving with more meat loaf. “Do you have any siblings, Nolan?” she asks. I’ve never been more grateful for a change of topic.
“Two half brothers. On my father’s side.”
“How old are they?”
He squints, as if trying to remember a remote piece of information. “Somewhere in their early teens. Maybe younger.”
“You’re not sure?”
He shrugs. “I never see them.”
Mom’s brow furrows. “You must spend most holidays with your mother.”
He lets out a hushed laugh. Or maybe it’s a scoff. “I haven’t seen either of my parents in years. Usually a friend invites me over.”
“Why don’t you see your parents?” Darcy asks.
“A . . . difference of opinions. Over my career.”
“They don’t like the senior center?”
Nolan bites back a smile and nods solemnly.
“That’s kinda sad,” Darcy says. “I see my family every day of every week of every year.”
“That’salsokinda sad,” Sabrina mumbles. “Wouldn’t mind some space.”
Darcy shrugs. “I like it, that we’re always together. And we tell each other everything.”
The pointed look Nolan gives me makes me want to kick him in the gonads, but my leg is still stuck between his, so I consider drowning myself in the gravy. A slow, nutritious, tasty death.
I’m not sure how it happens, or what atrocious deeds I committed in past lives to deserve this indignity, but after dinner Nolan gets talked into staying “just a little bit longer! Pleeeeease!” and watching TV with my sisters.
“Do you likeRiverdale?” Sabrina asks eagerly. She and Darcy flank him on the couch, and Goliath is in his lap. (“What a strangely familiar beast,” Nolan said when she deposited him in his hands. “I wonder if I’ve recently seen a portrait of him.” I nearly forked him in the eye.) Mom leans against the doorframe, taking in the scene with a level of enjoyment that I vastly resent. I’ve been sent to fetch ice cream sandwiches, then sent back when I brought the chocolate kind instead of strawberry.
“I’ve never seenRiverdale.”
“Oh my God. Okay, so, that’s Archie and he’s, like, the main character, but everyone likes Jughead better because hello,Cole Sprouse, and there’s this murder that . . .”
“He’s cute,” Mom whispers while I’m loading the dishwasher.
“Cole Sprouse?”
