I’m in the living room, texting with Booker. At least I don’t have to pretend to have my nose stuck in a textbook every second of the evening now that final exams are over. There was plenty of studying over the past few weeks, but there was plenty of texting Booker Stratton in between.
I set my phone facedown on the couch and hop up to kiss Dad on the cheek. “Did you get lard nar?”
“I even got extra tonight since you ate it all last time.”
“Not my fault you and Mom are slow eaters.”
He shakes his head, laughing as he carries the bags into the kitchen.
My phone buzzes. I keep expecting this delicious, warm feeling to go away the more I hear from Booker, but the truth is that it only increases. Mitchell never made me feel this way, and we were together for a year and a half.
When can I see you again?
I pause, my fingers hovering over the phone as I think about this. It was easy to push away the question when I was in the thick of finals. Or even before that, since I go to a pretty demanding private school; academics take up the majority of my time during the year. But summer approaching means even more parties are approaching, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to escape the fact that my parents have my whole life planned out for me.
Maybe this weekend?
I don’t admit that the only way Mom and Dad will let me go out with him is if I introduce him first. I don’t know if either of us is ready for that yet.
The smell of Thai food floats into the living room, making my mouth water. I tell Booker I’ll text him later and head into the kitchen to help unpack the bags.
My parents are talking in low tones, their words sharp and pointed at the edges. Dad is pulling cartons from one of the bags, and I don’t even know how it’s possible for them to already be having such an involved conversation.
They stop as soon as I walk into the room. Mom looks over and smiles. “I was just telling your father he got so much food we’ll be eating leftovers for weeks.”
She clearly was doing nothing of the sort, but I’m too confused to challenge her. My parents rarely argue, and when they do, it’s behind closed doors, after they think I’ve fallen asleep.
“Well, we have company,” Dad says. “Gotta make sure everyone has enough to eat.”
I glance toward the hallway. “Should I go wake Aunt Carlene?”
“No, sweetie, I’ll get her,” Mom says. “You help your dad.”
It takes an extraordinarily long time for my mother to get my aunt. We’ve unpacked all the food and set the dining room table, and I’m grabbing the pitcher of water by the time they walk into the kitchen.
Aunt Carlene smiles at me before her eyes shift to my father, who is washing his hands at the sink. “Hi, Ray.”
He takes a moment to turn around, and when he does, there’s a strange look on his face. Almost like he’s seen a ghost. Which doesn’t make sense; he knew she was here. “Carlene. It’s been a real long time.”
“Indeed. You look good, Ray.”
“You too.” But it sounds like someone forced him to say it. I’m starting to wonder if anyone besides me is actually okay with my aunt staying here.
She looks over his shoulder at the food. “Chinese?”
“Thai.”
“Oh, I love Thai food.”
“Good,” Mom says. “Eat up. We have enough to feed the whole block.”
Aunt Carlene asks a lot of questions at dinner, but only to me. I end up talking the most, which I guess is okay because my parents are so quiet it’s unnerving.
“What are you up to this summer, Dove? Hanging with your friends?”
“A little bit, I guess.”
She frowns. “What else is summer for?”
“I’m taking some college prep courses,” I say, avoiding my mother’s eyes. “And working at the shop some.”
“That sounds… structured,” my aunt says, her eyes landing right on my mother.
“I like being at the shop.” And then I shove noodles and chicken into my mouth so I won’t be tempted to say what I really think about the college prep courses.
“Birdie is focused,” Mom says. “Both our girls are.”
Aunt Carlene takes a sip of water. “Focused is good. Lord knows our mother wouldn’t stand for anything else. Which is why we fought like we did.” She looks off into the distance, as if she’s remembering scenes from her childhood. Then she looks at me. “You know, Dove, your mother was always the overachiever. I didn’t stand a chance.”
“I suppose I always thought overachieving was better than the alternative.”
Even my father, who has barely said a word since we sat down and seems lost in his own world, looks in surprise at my mother. That sentence had claws.
Mom glances at us and exhales loudly. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
But she doesn’t even look at her sister when she apologizes. Aunt Carlene stares down at her food.
I glance around the table as we finish the meal in silence, but their faces give away nothing. It’s times like this that I really miss my sister. I’m still not used to navigating this family stuff alone.
I like to text Booker before I go to sleep.
I like having someone to say good night to after my parents, and remembering his texts as soon as I open my eyes in the morning. I like knowing someone is thinking of me before they drift off, too.
Tonight, I get under the covers and text him as usual, but I wonder if I should be listening at my parents’ bedroom door. Maybe I’d hear the telltale murmurs of a disagreement—some clue as to what was really going on at dinner. He texts back:
Don’t know if I can wait much longer to see you
My cheeks flush with heat. We’ve kissed only a couple of times, but I remember it well, the feeling of Booker’s thick, soft lips on mine. One hand cupped around my face, the other palm pressed to the brick wall of Laz’s building behind me.
I think you have to? No going out on school nights over here
There’s a knock at my door just as his next message comes through:
You could always sneak out
“Come in.” I shove the phone under my pillow.
My mother closes the door behind her and perches on the edge of the bed next to me. “I can’t believe my baby is finishing her sophomore year in a couple of days. And that you’ll be taking the SATs in a few months!”
“Me either,” I say.
Mimi has done everything before me, so I know what my life is supposed to look like. I’m supposed to graduate at the top of my class and go to a good college where I will study something respectable that will get me an impressive, high-paying job. But it’s still weird to be doing all the things I watched her do, as if I never really thought they’d happen to me.
“I know it’ll be a busy one, but are you looking forward to the summer?”
“Mom.” I don’t like small talk in general, and I especially don’t like it with my mother. Also, we said good night earlier, so I’m not sure why she’s in here talking about my summer. “What’s going on?”
She takes a deep breath. Gives me an uncomfortable smile. “So we didn’t do a good job of pretending everything is normal?”