“The carnations?” I asked. “The ones you saw at the flower shop with Dirk?”
“Yes,” Kimmie admitted.
“Kimmie.” I gave my sister a sympathetic look. “I can’t believe you still believe in all of that.”
“You know what Grandma always used to say,” Kimmie went on. “Carnations are bad luck, Harrison. And seeing them when I’m supposed to be getting married soon? It’s like the kiss of death.”
“Kimmie, you were in a flower shop.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Kimmie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Mom saw carnations, too, the night before she married Dad. Grandma told her not to marry him, but she did it anyway. And we both know how that turned out.”
“I mean, they’ve been married for three solid decades—”
“And they’ve been happy for less than a year combined.” Kimmie shook her head. “Harrison, I don’t want to be like our parents. I don’t want to be married and miserable. I don’t want to stay together for some misguided bullshit about the kids growing up in a happy home. I didn’t grow up in a happy home. We didn’t grow up in a happy home. We knew how much they—”
Kimmie leaned against the bar and put her face in her hands before she continued. “We knew how much they hated each other, Harrison. Fuck. Do you remember that time Dad tried to take us to Disneyland?”
“Right. It was the same week we had a bunch of tests in school.” I chuckled at the memory. “Mom was so pissed off about that.”
“Yeah, she was so pissed off that she didn’t even come on vacation with us,” Kimmie said. “And then, she acted like we were traitors for going with Dad in the first place, and she went on a solo vacation to NYC for a week.”
“Wait. Was Mom’s solo trip to NYC because of the Disneyland thing? Or was that when she found out Dad was sleeping with his secretary?” I asked.
“Actually, I think the Disneyland thing was after Dad found out Mom was sleeping with her friend from work, the one who always showed us the card tricks,” Kimmie corrected.
“Hmm. Gotta love being used as pawns in our parents’ eternal game of making each other unhappy,” I joked. “I honestly have no idea how we came out normal.”
“Do you think we’re doomed?” my sister whispered.
“What?”
“Do you think we can really have normal relationships?” Kimmie sniffled. “Do you think we can… how can we ever be happy? We’ve never seen happy. I don’t fucking know what it looks like to be married and happy, Harrison. How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“Kimmie, if there’s one of us who has a chance of being married and happy, it’s you,” I answered. “Do you know what happens when you’re around Dirk?” I placed a hand on my sister’s shoulder. “Kimmie, you light up, like I’ve never seen you light up before. I haven’t seen you that way since you made first chair in middle school band.”
“That’s because I beat out Naomi Colson.” Kimmie smirked. “She thought she was going to get it, just because her parents were paying for all those fancy lessons, but the best flute player won the day.”
“Listen, Kimmie,” I looked down at her, with a serious stare. “Life is Naomi Colson.”
“What?” My sister squinted up at me. “What does that mean, Harrison?”
“I mean, life is hard. Life is always taking fancy flute lessons, except all of those lessons are specifically about how to make things suck for you,” I continued. “But… I think as long as you have Dirk in your corner, you’re always going to make first chair.”
“I didn’t know you liked Dirk so much.” Kimmie smiled.
“He loves you.” I shrugged. “And I know that if something ever happened to me, and I wasn’t around to protect you anymore, Dirk would take care of it for me.”
“It’s not the 1800s, Harrison. I don’t need you to protect me.” Kimmie grinned.
“Of course not. You’re your own woman.” I grinned right back at her. “But you do need someone to pull you out of hookah bars when you’re in runaway bride mode.”
“Oh God. Dirk.” Kimmie seemed to panic as she pulled out her phone. “Shit! He’s called me like eighty-five times.”
“See? He loves you.” I sighed. “We should probably head back before he files a missing person’s report.”
“Right.” Kimmie nodded as she stood up from her seat at the bar. “Thanks, big brother.”
“Anytime.” I placed fifty bucks down on the bar’s counter assuming it would be enough to cover Kimmie’s tab and a tip.
Kimmie and I headed out of the bar, smoke swirling around us as we joked about carnations, overpriced drinks at hookah bars, and how much Kimmie couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with Dirk.
15
Morgan
“So, Kimmie was just hanging out in a hookah bar down the street from her place?” I asked as Harrison and I walked back into my apartment. “That’s so weird. Her ‘Find My Phone’ app said she was somewhere in Colorado.”
“Oh, you were able to get into her phone?”
“I told you. Charles taught me everything he knew about breaking into other people’s shit.” I chuckled. “But maybe that account was attached to her old phone or something.”
“Still, thank you for helping out.” Harrison smiled. “You didn’t have to.”
“It was no problem,” I replied. “I’m just happy that everything’s okay with Kimmie. Going missing like that, she must’ve been really upset about the wedding.”
“It wasn’t really about the wedding.”
“Oh? Then, what was it about—”
“We should watch something on TV. Try to unwind,” Harrison suggested, glossing over my question. “Do you think there’s anything good on right now? Or is it too late?”
“There’s always Netflix. Or Food Network,” I answered.
“Either one of those sounds good.” Harrison nodded. “Do you mind if I order something for dinner? I know you wanted to cook, but I could really go for a slice of pizza right now.”
“Pizza sounds good,” I said. “Besides, I never got to the fish anyway. I can leave it in the fridge for another day or two. Are you thinking of Chicago deep dish or…?”
“I’m sorry?” Harrison quirked an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that there’s another kind of pizza other than New York style?”
“Are you really about to argue that New York pizza is better than Chicago pizza?” I shook my head in disbelief.
“I mean, do you want a slice of tomato pie? Or do you actually want to taste your pizza?” Harrison asked. “I’m honestly a little confused, Morgan. I thought you were a chef?”
“Shots fucking fired!” I laughed and playfully nudged Harrison in the arm. “Keep it up, and I won’t cook dinner for you ever again. And we both know you’d be lost without my brisket.”