“And you’re going, too, right, Poppy?” Abby asks.
“We’re all going,” I answer for him. Every June, for as far back as I can remember (except for the one summer when nobody went anywhere), our mother has dragged us to the yearly conference of the Society of Thoracic Surgeons. The conference is held in a different place each year, but it’s always with the same people—heart surgeons, basically, and their families. Normally I look forward to this trip. But things have been heating up so much with Leo lately, and it feels impossible to go a whole week without seeing him. We can text and video chat, but it won’t be the same. There will be an entire ocean between us.
“When are we going?” Abby asks.
“The day after tomorrow. Your mommy is going to do a big talk in front of a lot of people, so she needs to practice what she’s going to say. That’s why she’s missing dinner.” Pop retrieves his plate from the microwave and comes back to the table. “But I know she really wishes she could be here.”
“Okay,” says Abby. She’s used to Mom’s absence. We all are. “Dr. Bloom” is always busy, but she’s busy for a good reason. Every single day she spends away from us at the hospital, my mother saves lives, and that means she doesn’t completely belong to us. It’s like she belongs to the world.
Even Abby, at age five, has come to accept this.
“Ada,” Pop says gently. “No phones at the table, please.”
I’m still clutching my phone. I stick it in my pocket. “Sorry. It will never happen again, I swear.”
He snorts. “You just need to make sure you don’t experience all of your relationships via text, all right? Embrace the real. Be physically there. Okay?”
I try not to roll my eyes. “My relationships are sufficiently real, thank you, Pop.” If only he knew. But I would never in a million years tell him.
“But you were texting your boyfriend,” Afton remarks.
I turn my head to give Afton a sharp look. “Not that it’s any of your business.” Subtext: shut up. “But yes.”
Pop chews for a minute thoughtfully. “How’s that going, by the way? That’s where you were today, right? With Leo?”
“Yeah. We went to a movie. And then . . . his house for a while.”
Afton’s right eyebrow lifts. “Oh, so before you went over to Lucy’s.”
Frick. “Right. Before I went to Lucy’s, I was at Leo’s house. For a while. And then I went to Lucy’s.” There’s that stupid catch in my voice that happens whenever I try to lie.
“Interesting,” says Afton with a knowing smile.
“How long have you two been dating now?” Pop asks obliviously.
“Like six months?” Afton supplies for me.
“Almost five,” I correct her, making a mental note to murder her later.
Pop nods. “You must really like this Leo guy.”
“Six months is serious,” Afton says.
I would almost prefer that the conversation return to the yelling about food or Mom blowing us off. Almost. “Five months,” I say again. “And yes. We’re serious, I guess.”
“It’s kind of weird, though,” Afton continues. “You’ve been together five whole months and he hasn’t been over here once to meet your family. I mean, you even went to prom together, but you met him there instead of having him pick you up.”
“He doesn’t have a car—” I start to protest, but Afton cuts me off.
“Ada, are you ashamed of us?” The side of her mouth quirks up.
“No!” I burst out. “It’s not like that. It’s just that he’s really busy with swimming all the time, and it’s a long way to come from San Jose—it takes forever.”
“But you go to his house,” she points out.
“I like going to his house.” It’s quiet and nice, just him and his brilliant mom, when at home it feels like I have so much to deal with all the time.
“Well, you should bring him over for dinner sometime,” Pop says. “We’re all curious to meet him.”
“Yeah!” Abby exclaims, brown eyes wide with excitement. “We could find out who his ancestors are and cook them! But don’t kiss him in front of me. That would make me throw up.” She pretends to gag.
“Uh, Abby, that’s not what I—” Pop starts.
“How about tomorrow night?” Afton claps her hands together like this is the best idea ever. “That’d be so fun.”
“I can’t tomorrow night,” I say, holding Afton’s gaze. “I’m going to Leo’s swim meet, and then we’re having dinner with some of his friends.”
I don’t know why I say this. The idea only solidifies as the words are leaving my mouth. But it’s a good idea, I realize, and my voice is steady, because that’s suddenly what I’m going to do: surprise Leo at his swim meet. Be the supportive girlfriend and cheer him on. Tag along with his friends to dinner—I’ve met some of his friends before, and they were, well, friendly. They won’t mind. I’m sure Leo won’t mind. And then afterward we can go back to his empty house, and try again. This time with shaved legs and sexier underwear and better music.
“That sounds fun,” says Pop.
4
“That sounds terrible,” Afton says later. “No wonder you choked.”
She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed with my left foot in her lap, painting my toenails a deep shade of pink. I have just finished spilling my guts about Leo, the entire humiliating story complete with the sordid details: the music, the posters, the holey underwear, and the unfortunate confession of love that I still don’t know how to feel about.
“I totally choked,” I agree. “But I’m over it. I’m ready now. I’ve got a plan.”
“Are you sure you still want to do it?” Afton switches to my other foot. “I mean, there’s a case to be made for waiting. No need to, like, rush these things.”
“You did it when you were sixteen,” I point out.
“Yes, but it was in a garage, remember, with this boy I hardly knew whose sister was in my ballet class. And it—the sex, I mean—wasn’t very good.” Afton sets the bottle of nail polish on the bedside table and leans back against the headboard, remembering. “But at least he spread a blanket out on the floor next to the washing machine.” She smiles almost sadly. “And he said I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.”
Yeah, yeah, she’s beautiful. Tell us something we don’t know. I’m already familiar with this story—Afton told me right after it happened. I also know that Afton’s second time had been later that same year, with a college boy at a party in San Francisco. Afton didn’t say much about that, but afterward she seemed to form a negative opinion of college boys in general, and she and I took the bus to a Planned Parenthood in Blossom Hill for Plan B. The third time was with Logan, Afton’s current boyfriend. Logan counted for sexy times three through like a hundred, over a year of hooking up regularly, usually at his place or the back of his car, but one time they apparently did it in Pop’s camper trailer parked next to the house.