At the mention of Lex, her smile flips upside down. “Luke?”
“Lex.”
“I thought you two were on a break last summer.”
“We were. We kind of do that...in the summer.” The blush that just faded off my face is now trailing over my neck, rising up my cheeks, and singeing my ears.
“Hmm.” Dani checks the timer and swallows back whatever she was about to say.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I know you want to say something.”
I wish I could get out of this chair and keep myself busy during this awkward-as-hell nonconversation, like Dani is doing right now. She straightens the receipts, wipes down every gleaming surface, and sweeps up nonexistent hair before she says, “I wish I could meet him, just to see if maybe there’s something I’m missing. But I don’t think I’m missing anything.” She pins me with a long look. “Am I?”
“Lex is super smart. He’s really funny. He’s athletic. His parents and my parents have been friends for a really long time. We’ve been dating for a while now. Off and on.” I pause. If I was in a technical debate, I’d lose against a slug in a coma with that halfhearted defense.
Dani supports herself with the broom, leaning to the side, her eyes dreamy. “Bennie lost a spelling bee on purpose in fifth grade so he could sit next to this girl in our class who was crying her eyes out after she got eliminated. Spoiler alert: that girl was me.” Dani’s smile is soft and sweet as newly spun taffy. “He dressed as the Beast this Halloween so he could escort his little cousin, who went as Belle. He comes in every single weekend to help Dad, and he refuses to take a single cent of pay. I’ve known him since grammar school, and even though he was always popular—captain of the baseball team, student-council president, prom king—the thing I love best about him is that he’s so kind. His heart?” She curls her fingers into a heart shape and then pulls them super wide. “It’s ridiculous how big his heart is. And that is why I am head over heels, crazy in love with Bennie Ortiz. I literally thank God every day that we went from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend two years ago. Now, tell me again...what am I missing about Lex?”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut. It’s not fair to Lex that I don’t have more to say. He is an amazing guy, a guy worth telling stories about. He’s just not...he just doesn’t feel like he’s mine. Dani doesn’t press for more details as she rinses the bleach out of my hair and puts on the pink dye. I’m grateful that she jumps to other topics.
“How is Marnie doing with volleyball? How is Lilli’s singing going? How is your mother’s blog? Peter’s work?”
I answer each of her questions, and there’s a tug in me because 1) I miss my family in Michigan and 2) I wish there was some way to bridge my two lives that wouldn’t throw my entire world off-kilter. But the reality is that I can’t be who I am here if I bring in too much of my life there, and vice versa. There’s no single version of me that works in both places. Maybe that’s fine, because there’s no way my two families could really merge into one, no matter how much I wish that could happen.
Just when I’m reaching peak nostalgia about Mom, Peter, and my little sisters, I check my notifications, and that brings me right back down to Earth. I see that Marnie has posted another passive-aggressive, melancholy video to social media, whining about how sorry she feels for herself this summer and hinting that the blame lies with her cruel family. While I understand she’s bummed, I have no patience for her whole woe-is-me shtick. Lilli put up a black-and-white shot of her bed, liner notes spread everywhere, her guitar in her lap with the caption Feeling kinda cute, might share a new song...<3. There are already thousands of likes and comments begging her to share, and though it really has nothing to do with me directly, panic floods through me on Lilli’s behalf. I can’t imagine how overwhelming it would feel to have that much attention—even positive attention—focused on my every move. Mom posted a link to a blog article she wrote titled “Preparing for the Empty Nest: Pitfalls to Avoid as the First Bird Spreads Their Wings.” I guess I’m the first bird? Jesus, she’s not wasting any time booting me out of the proverbial nest. I do a quick scan of the article and feel the usual jumble of emotions: pride over how awesome her writing is, the cringiness that always comes from reading about myself from her blogworthy peppy-mom perspective, and, mostly, a deep longing for her to take all these feelings she has about me and this transitional time and actually talk to me about them. Not in some sanitized, repostable way; just with the kind of honesty—and conflict—that Dani and I share during our talks. But that’s just not how things work between me and my mother, and I imagine we’ll only get more distant when I go wherever I’m headed for college. Peter is a social media black hole, and he’s proud of it. But there is a text message from him with a link to the registration page for the internship he wants me to sign up for.
Sigh.
“Why the long face?” Dani asks as she rinses my hair.
“Do you ever feel totally overwhelmed by family stuff?” I ask, oldest sister to oldest sister.
She leads me back to the chair and starts making confident, dramatic cuts. I watch hunks of dark hair plop to the floor. “Yes and no. I’ve been the pain in the ass everyone is worried about before, and our family has given me a lot of grace, so I try to be patient when Dad and Duke frustrate me. For example, Dad is proud of being independent, sometimes to a fault. He needs to tell me before shit hits the fan, but he doesn’t always do that because he’s so sure he can figure everything out on his own.”
“What’s going on with Belo’s?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
For a second Dani’s frenzied pace slows down, and my hair stops flurrying all around me. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dell. Things are pretty bad. There are some huge online retailers who have really cut into our profits, plus a sporting chain store just opened fifteen minutes away. People from out of town don’t even realize Belo’s is here.” She steadies herself and goes back to her lightning-fast cutting. “But Dad’s getting help. He’s working on a few angles. There are options, for sure.”
“I can help,” I offer.
“Of course you’ll help,” Dani says, squeezing my shoulder. “But you’re also here to enjoy your summer. Trust me, the time you have to be young and carefree goes by like this.” She snaps the fingers on her free hand, and there’s a sad knowing in her eyes. “Before you know it, the decisions you have to make are bigger than you’re ready for, and they don’t really seem to stop. I’m not complaining,” she adds quickly. “I’m happy to have everything I have. Just...enjoy the time you have to be carefree.”
It’s an echo of what Mom said before I got on the plane, and I wonder what about Dani’s life fills her with so much regret. Does she wish she’d gotten a degree somewhere other than the small local college ten minutes from the house we grew up in? Does she wish she hadn’t started working so early or taken on so much business responsibility so soon? Is it Bennie? Great as he is, does she wish she’d dated more? I want to ask, but Dani’s flipped on the hair dryer and is paying close attention to making my hair smooth and perfect. Between the blare of the dryer and her extreme concentration, I decide keeping my mouth shut is the best option.