“You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m an adult.”
I shrugged. “An adult wouldn’t act the way you’re acting.”
“And how am I acting?”
“Like a selfish little shithead.”
That pissed him off. I was kind of pissed too, but since I was technically the grown-up in the room, I notched myself down a few degrees. “We’re having a barbecue here at noon. My sister and Jim and the twins will be here. You and Misty can take off after, and you’ve got the rest of the long weekend to be together. I’m gonna come crash in your dorm room if you don’t spend some time with the fam. Mason’s moping like Myrtle when her dish is empty. Josh is heartbroken, and don’t even get me started on the dogs.”
Myrtle chose that moment to whap him in the shin with her paw. He’d stopped dropping crumbs and she didn’t like it.
He looked down at the dog, then out the window at Josh. His kid bro was walking slow with his head down. Hugo was trotting beside him with a frisbee in his mouth, but Josh didn’t even notice.
Jeremy said, “I’m sorry. I had a hard week.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“I’ve got this one professor who’s a Class-A asshat.”
“Language. You want me to come down there and kick him in the balls?”
The trouble in his eyes evaporated. He even smiled a little. “Yes, Aunt Rachel, I want you to come down there and kick him in the balls.”
He slid off the stool, smacked his thighs and said, “Wanna go hunt some froggies, Myrtle? Froggies? Hmm?”
Myrt sprang upright and started wiggling her butt.
“I’d like to hear more about the asshat professor, though,” I said.
“Later. And…I’ll do better. With the family.”
His mea culpa look was so much like Mason’s that my heart melted.
“I know you will. We miss the hell out of you, you know.”
"You, too?"
"Me especially," I admitted. "I love you, kid."
"I love you, too."
"Well, duh."
Mason grilled steaks, looking like the most content man on the planet for the first time in three weeks. My sister Sandra had brought mac salad and coleslaw. I heated up a can of baked beans in the microwave, poured chips into giant bowls and scooped dip into small ones.
Yeah, I don’t cook. It’s not what I was put on the planet to do.
“Let’s eat down by the water,” Sandra said. We had just exited the house, our arms full of plates and silverware. “Pretty soon it’ll be too cold.”
“I concur.” And then I whistled to get the kids’ attention. “Will you guys move the picnic tables down by the water for us?”
Jeremy and my niece Misty, who’d been sitting side by side on the dock holding hands, got up and came running. Josh, too, dogs flanking him. Christie stayed put and returned her attention to her phone. Misty and Christie were twins, blue-eyed blondes like their mother, although you’d never know it today, as Christie wore what looked like a Rasta hat and it covered every lock. Jim, world’s greatest brother-in-law, left his position as official grilling commentator to help them lug the old-fashioned wooden picnic table.
“Jeremy got over being mad at you?” Sandra asked.
“He couldn’t deny his own assholery.”
“Is that a real word?”
“It is now. As an author, I get to add new words to the language.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“I’m pretty sure it is. Sprounce is one of mine. You know what Myrt does when she finds a froggie. Sprounce.” I made claw hands under the plates and bounced a little.
“I love you,” she said.
“Me too.”
We walked across the dirt drive that wasn’t really a road, because we were the only ones who used it, to the picnic table on the grassy patch of shoreline. The kids had already taken off, but Jere was still within earshot. I said, “I appreciate you hanging out with us today. I won’t be upset if you two want to go do your own thing after we eat.” I was careful not to sound like I was giving permission in front of everyone. I knew how I would react to that–instantly and with great fury–and presumed he’d be the same.
“We’ll probably hang out for a while,” he said. “Maybe take off later, though.”
Sandra and I put the plates on the table, and I glanced over at Christie. Her full attention was on her device. I pulled out my phone and texted her, “Get off your fucking phone.”
She looked up from the screen, grinning at me. “You are so ridiculous, Aunt Rache,” she said, getting up, pocketing it, and walking in that way only super tall, super lean teenage girls can do. Then she pulled off her hat to release a cascade of dead-straight, jet-black hair.
I bit back the sound of horror that jumped into my mouth. Well, mostly bit it back. Half a squeak escaped. Sandra elbowed me in the small of my back, where her kid couldn’t see. When I could speak, I said, “Wow, what an…extreme change.”
The guys were carrying the steaks to the table, and everyone was finding a spot to sit.
“I got sick of people not being able to tell us apart.”
“So you decided to become the evil twin?”
“Rachel!” Sandra scolded.
“She knows I’m teasing. You know I’m teasing, right?” I took a plate and a seat on the bench. Mason slid in beside me.
“I know you’re teasing," Christie said. "Besides, I already was the evil twin. At least now I look the part.”
“I’ve seen evil, kid,” Mason said. “You ain’t it.”
“But it’s nice to have goals,” I added in my best Sandra tones.
That made her smile. Christie wasn’t such a puzzle to me. She kind of was me. 99% attitude and convinced of her rightness on all subjects, regardless of evidence to the contrary.
She wasn’t evil. If she were suddenly orphaned and I left the planet, she could probably go either way, but as things stood, she was going to be okay.
I looked her over thoroughly, nodding slow. “You should darken your brows a little bit.”
“I hate makeup.”
“Not makeup. Dye. I’ll have Amy text you her brand. You now, she’s naturally a redhead, right?”
“No way!”
“Way. Not since she’s been my goth-Friday, but I was at her mother’s place once, and there are pictures. Total ginger.” A platter of food came my way before we could discuss my assistant any further. Amy does a million jobs. Most importantly, she posts as me on social media because I have zero tolerance for idiots. If I were Tweeting every day, my career would go up in smoke, you know, unless I were president.
I stabbed a big juicy steak, dropped it onto my plate, and enjoyed the friendly chaos of conversation going on around me. We talk so much when we’re together I don’t know how anyone eats. But we managed to decimate the meal, and get through dessert–apple pie with ice cream. It grew eerily silent once we had that in front of us.
We really were a family. Not officially or anything, but I was starting to wonder if Mason was ever going to ask.