“I was a cute baby.” I’m sitting on the couch with a takeout container of orange chicken from Wok 4 You. “Maybe the slide show should be only of me.”
My mom glances over from her spot on the floor, and her gaze shifts to my dad, who’s on the other side of the couch by me. They share a look that says, “listen to your daughter.’”
“It’ll be equal between all families,” my mom says.
My dad presses Play on the slide show again and exchanges his chow fun for fried rice. Asher, my younger brother, takes the chow fun and fights with his chopsticks to get a noodle.
I do love my family. My mom is a tad too protective and demanding at times, but she makes up for it during our shopping sprees. My dad is totally laid back. Although I used to be embarrassed that he runs the only tattoo parlor in Lake Starlight, I realized as I got older that most of my friends’ parents hold him in high regard. He even said he might allow me to get a tattoo before I turn eighteen, but I better be sold on the design.
Asher takes after my dad in the fact they’re always doing something for someone else. Fundraisers, charity auctions, Dad letting someone use his truck. Asher likes to hang out at Great-Grandma Dori’s old folks’ home on Sundays, reading to the residents, playing chess, or just talking. Not sure what he could possibly have in common with an eighty-five-year-old war veteran, but he finds common ground. I love him, but I never tell him that because hello… he’s my brother.
“Oh!” I hold out my chopsticks toward the screen to get my dad to stop on the picture of my grandparents, Tim and Beth Bailey, who died well before I was born. Grandma is holding one of her nine kids and Grandpa is peering over her shoulder, staring into the camera, his hands lovingly resting on his wife’s shoulders.
Mom looks at my dad and they share a sad smile of sorts.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my sweatshirt, and Mom’s attention quickly shifts in my direction, her usual scowl in place when my phone rings while we’re eating. I’m not sure why she’s so adamant about it—she’s taken multiple business calls during dinners. She just says she’s running a huge company and if someone is calling her, there must be a problem that needs fixing immediately.
I silence my phone without checking the screen, although I’m ninety percent sure it’s Kenzie. She wants to talk about what we’re wearing to my great-grandma’s ninetieth birthday party. Of course I care, but she’s a little too worried. Even mentioned having someone else do our hair and makeup. I said half the people in attendance won’t even see us through their cataracts.
She doesn’t think I know, but I do. She likes my cousin Easton. Officially he’s my cousin, but he’s really more like a brother to me. He, Lance, and I have done everything together since we were born.
First day of pre-school. All three of us in attendance.
First day of kindergarten. All three of us in the same class because it was easier on our parents.
First soccer practice. We were all there for about five minutes. Until Easton kicked the ball, hit Lance in the head, and Lance went to sit on Aunt Brooklyn’s lap. I sat down in the grass and took off my new cleats. In the end, Easton kept with soccer only until T-ball started.
Easton and Lance are close and both of them like Kenzie, which is a problem. I’m hoping Easton acts like a grown-up and doesn’t act on it because it would crush Lance. In truth, Lance is too good for Kenzie. Not that Easton isn’t or that Kenzie is unworthy of either of my cousins. But the girl was in love with Dion for the longest time too. She likes Easton for his reputation and the fact that he’s going to be the starting pitcher and he’s only a sophomore. If she knew that Lance has a trust of millions coming his way once he turns twenty-one, she’d probably like him best. But we’ve all been sworn to secrecy with life-threatening consequences should that info leak.
While Mom goes into the kitchen, Dad restarts the slide show. She stands in the kitchen doorway and says, “I look so young. What happened?” She looks into the mirror, pulling at the sides of her face to make the skin taut.
“You’re beautiful. Stop it.” My dad hands me his fried rice and I pass him the chicken. “You know I’m way too hot to be with anyone who’s not a ten.”
“Ten?” Asher asks.
“You know one through ten, ten being the best,” Dad says.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Seriously, let’s not teach him how to rate girls.”
“I think Mom’s as high as infinity. Infinity plus infinity.” Asher smiles his huge kiss-ass grin at my mom.
She eats it up by leaning over the table and kissing his forehead. “Thank you, Ash, but we don’t rate women. Women are equal to men.”
Dad lets out a playful annoyed growl like “here we go again,” but I know he believes it because he’s always making sure I know how to take care of myself and handle myself in any situation that might come up. He’s even taken me out on his bike a few times. Well, in the parking lot of Northern Lights Retirement, but it still counts.
“Oh, stop it,” Mom says and swats Dad’s leg, only for him to lean forward and pucker his lips.
Oh God, they’re going to kiss.
“Close your eyes, Asher,” I say, shutting mine.
Since I refuse to look, all I hear are Mom’s giggles and Dad’s soft voice—that I thankfully cannot hear because… ew.
“You can open them,” Dad says.
When I do, Mom is on his lap and his face is nuzzled into her neck as if he’s going to suck her blood. I sigh and place my fried rice on the table, going to the kitchen to grab more water.
On my way back, a set of headlights shine through the front window. We all look at one another as though one of us must know who’s here.
Since no one else gets up, I peek through the window and see the Northern Lights Retirement Center van. Great-Grandma eases out and shuffles to the front door. The van pulls away, which means she’ll need a ride home. Excitement fills me because maybe my dad will let me drive her home with him in the car.
I open the door and she strolls past me without even a hello.
“Hello, Great-Grandma,” I say, but all she does is raise her hand with her back to me.
“Where’s Ethel?” my dad asks her.
She sits in my spot on the sofa and I sit in my mom’s spot on the floor. Great-Grandma’s gaze stops on the screen. Asher purses his lips at me from across the coffee table like “what do we say or do?”
“Looking at old pictures?” Great-Grandma asks.
Mom leans forward and presses some buttons on the laptop hooked up to the television. “Yes, the pictures you gave me when you suggested that maybe someone should make a slide show.” Mom stands off Dad’s lap and he groans.
As much as my parents’ lovey-dovey behavior annoys me—especially when my friends are over—I do hope that whoever I end up with looks at me like my dad looks at my mom. Like he never wants to be far away from her.
“I just meant because you never know when you’d need it and I’m only getting older.”
“Great-Grandma!” Asher shouts as if he’s wondering how she could say that.
She pats his hand. “Don’t worry, I was just at the doctor and the ticker is good.” She pats her chest and we all sigh with relief.