“Why don’t you ask him why he chose political science as a major even though he would be great at music education? You could find out about his side hustle. He gives instrument lessons to elementary kids for an income while he goes to school full-time. Or you could find out why his leadership skills in the band are extraordinary. He has this wicked ability to come up with ideas on the fly that bring everyone together. I’m betting he attended a lot of leadership camps in high school.”
I do not bring up the topics of him being president of a coed band fraternity whose main purpose is to use drinking games as a bonding technique. Nor do I mention his serial dating, hook-up sex–only mentality. Those are things Dad in this mood would probably love to hear more about.
Unfortunately, what disinterests Dad is a total sell for Mom.
“You really give instrument lessons to children? Oh, that is precious! Do you like kids? Do you have a special someone who also wants a big family? Bill and I got engaged our senior year of college. At this age, you have to start planning for your whole future, not just your career.”
Jimbo lifts his head with a suddenly interested expression on his face.
I cringe, waiting for him to get in the same subtle digs to me that I just dished out to him.
“I love kids, Mrs. Reston! I am, in fact, making plans for my whole future. I think Sophia’s just scared to jinx our five-year plan by talking about it to anyone else. We’re gonna get married next year, and she wants at least four kids. She likes even numbers, which is weird, but hey, gotta give the woman I love whatever she wants. We’re still debating whether we’ll both go to law school, or if she’ll just stay home and start popping out my babies.” He wags his finger at me. “This is where my leadership training from high school really helps in adulthood. She doesn’t know it yet, but this week is a little test drive, so I can prove to her that she would rather stay home and be a domestic goddess while I further my education.”
He makes a show of expressing shocked regret by dramatically placing his palm over his vile open piehole. “Oops. Guess I just ruined that plan. That’s okay. I’m a leader. I have others.” He leans toward my dad with a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Between you and me, she honestly needs someone who can take the reins and be in charge of her life. All women want that even though they’ll never admit it.”
I can’t believe it.
Jimbo just committed suicide and not even by throwing himself under my bus.
I feel so … cheated.
I glance at Shannon, wanting to see the exact moment she pounces at him to rip his throat out for violating every feminist ideal she holds dear. If I’m going to keep her from going to prison, now is the time.
She’s in shock. That’s the only explanation for the delayed bloodshed. She’s literally standing on the other side of my mom with her jaw on the floor.
I move around Mom to wrestle Shannon to the floor if I have to. “Shan …”
Her cackle sort of ricochets around the room before her expression even changes. It’s like the dubbing on a foreign film that’s just a few seconds behind the action.
Instead of leaping across the table in a single bound, she throws her head back and laughs harder.
I think Jimbo broke her. He broke my best friend!
She points at him as her arm bobs up and down with her hysterics. “Oh, you’re on your own. I’m not even touching that one.”
Then, she spins on her heel and leaves us all here.
Shocked.
Okay, it’s me. I’m shocked.
I shouldn’t be though. Not really. The plan has always been for me to enjoy the murder alone. She’s only going to help dispose of the body in a secret location after I’ve gotten him out of my system once and for all. And Jimbo isn’t stupid enough to openly admit to my parents that he took my virginity way back in high school, and that we’ve hated each other ever since. My insults to him were nuanced in my parents’ presence, so he didn’t have to reach very far to one-up me. His spiel was believable enough to be plausible truth to the untrained observer but laced with enough condescension for me to hear the battle cry of the continued war.
He’s back to resting his chin in his hand with his elbow on the table, the same as he was when I walked in. Only everything about his expression has changed. He looks absolutely delighted with himself. His eyes glisten with challenge.
Your move, they sing.
This is a slightly bigger, more important chess board than we’ve played on before. Long after band is only a memory in my life, my parents will still be my parents. I have to proceed with the utmost caution.
I glance at my dad. He looks like he might be on board with this plan. Probably because he’s imagining free season tickets if I become a Fossoway.
My mom only looks mildly disturbed by the idea. She shakes her head with a rueful smile.
And I thought trying to make all the drum majors fall in love with me was going to require serious acting skills. If my next words aren’t Oscar-worthy, I will never forgive myself. “Honey, don’t be silly. You’re so caught up in toxic masculinity because of the shadow of football that rests on your shoulders.”
His eyes widen and cry out for mercy. Bingo. I’m winning again.
“You need to let go of this concept that you have to be the breadwinner. I can go to law school and make the big bucks while you switch majors to be a music teacher. I love you, so I want you to do what you love. What fulfills you. And if that means we never get to have children, then so be it. You’ll be surrounded by them all day at work. As a family law attorney, I’ll have thousands of children whose lives I can potentially touch. And honestly, we have to go into this with eyes wide open. I’ll have job security because fifty percent of all marriages in this country end in divorce. We need to learn how to compromise now if we’re ever going to make it as long as Mom and Dad have.”
That last part is really lumped in just to make Mom beam with pride and throw her off the trail because there is no way she’s not itching to interrogate me about my current love life. I haven’t mentioned my last ex to her in months, and she only now seems to be considering this.
I don’t think there’s anything I can do to dissuade Dad. He has footballs in his eyes as it is.
In fact, he reaches over to offer Jimbo his hand again. “Well, you have my blessing.”
Jimbo just shakes his head, chuckles, and accepts Dad’s handshake. “I promise I’ll take care of her this week. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Oh, I hear that promise loud and clear. He’ll take care of me all right. He’s already planning his revenge for this moment.
As soon as my parents leave, I’m going to find out which room is his and booby-trap it to kingdom come. The best defense is a good offense.
Chapter Thirteen
“Remember,” Shannon whispers in my ear, her words barely audible over the sound system, “you didn’t hear it from me. You’re only attending your first ITK party ever because you’re living here for the week and because you want to sway potential voters by getting on their level.”
“You mean, by getting drunk.”
She shrugs. “Same difference.”