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He shakes his head.
Just then, both our phones jingle. Heather calls me and Harper calls him.
“What’s the scoop?” Heather asks.
I tell her about the good news from the doctor.
“But we have to do something or else the Plundering Pelican is going under. I’m going to move business operations here, at least for a while. I think Dad needs me.” Sadness cracks my poetic cousin’s voice.
And just like that, we all have the same reply. “Me too.”
Brando blinks. “You don’t have to.”
“Nope, we don’t have to—” Heather says.
“But we will—” Harper adds.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” I hug my cousin who pulls away after a moment.
“Ew. You smell like Ryan.”
I glare at him. “How dare you!” I waft my shirt. There is a subtle fresh cotton scent, but it’s not like we even touched except when he iced my arm.
Brando shrugs as if ignoring that because the relief at having our help with Uncle Eddie and the restaurant lightens his load.
My sisters outline their plan of attack, er, travel attack like a pair of army generals, and I start to have second thoughts. What about my life in Alabama? Work? Luke’s daycare?
Ryan’s proposal...that part I don’t mention.
They tell me it’s summer and that we have plenty of time to figure out everything. But do I?
Swallowing thickly, I can let all of that go for two hundred thousand dollars a month. That’s a lot of cheddar.
“You okay?” Brando asks.
“Yeah. Just thinking about logistics—I guess we’ll all fit at your parents’ place.”
“Always have.” Much like the restaurant, Uncle Eddie built additions to it over the years to accommodate my sisters and me. In a lot of ways, never having had daughters, we were like Uncle Eddie and Aunt Martina’s kids. And our kids were like their grandchildren, though Aunt Martina only met Luke briefly after he was born. He’ll be a year soon and she’ll have been gone for a year a month after that.
“I’m glad I came back for the wedding. Glad you’re here too. Plus, I get to see Ryan,” Brando says.
I grunt because that means I do too and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I don’t mention the football player’s fake dating suggestion, but the fluttering inside threatens to lift me clear off my feet. I used to always think it was nervousness because I never knew what kind of battle Ryan and I were in, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s something else.
When I get back to my aunt and uncle’s house, I can’t help but feel I’m right back to where I started. Only, after high school, I saw a clear horizon ahead with college and opportunities. I was headed to the big city, and I was going to make something of myself.
My sisters all reached their goals. Brando too. I thought I wanted to make a name for myself in PR, but now I’m not so sure. The best I can do lately is to get through the day.
I think about the money Ryan offered. I could contribute to helping fix up the Plundering Pelican, and I’d still have plenty left over.
But what about Lukey-boy? What about the little life I carved out for us in Alabama?
I went there because it was affordable. Plus, Dad comes ashore a few weeks at a time each season, so I get to see him. We took over his studio apartment—he has an RV, so he stays there when he’s back. It’s closer to my sisters who live in the panhandle and on the west coast of the state.
A recent but relatively hazy memory floats into my mind. Something about applesauce...Oh, no! I promised Tabby or Tabs or Tabitha that I’d bring applesauce to ABC day.
That’s it. I can never go back. To Alabama. I’m the flaky mom who agreed to help out and then failed to come through. I hang my head, but a large, old ship dotting the horizon catches my eye. It hardly moves at all. Kind of like me, or, more accurately, taking a few steps forward before being thrown back to where it all began.
