Something inside my stomach curdled like month old expired milk. I’d done it again. “Sorry.”
I ran to the other windows and opened them, to help get rid of the smell of burning plastic.
He flung the melted mess into the backyard, came back in and dumped the oven mitts into the trash.
“I’m sorry. I got distracted. I thought it was on low. Sorry.” I jammed the heels of my hands into the window over the sink, shoving at it. The freaking thing wouldn’t budge.
Berk walked up beside me, flicked the latch and pushed it up with one hand.
“Show off.” I grumbled stepping back.
“What were you trying to do exactly? Other than start a kitchen fire?”
I opened the front door to let in even more air. “I was going to make you guys dinner. Jules dropped off some cookies with LJ and—”
“Jules sent cookies.” He was in a scrimmage line stance, head whipping around, dark hair whooshing as he searched for cookies. When he spotted the container on the table, it was like watching a bear go after honey.
“Why’s the door—” LJ and Keyton coughed the second they stepped inside with a plastic liquor store bag.
“Marisa, what happened?” LJ’s head tilted and he looked at me like a disappointed sitcom dad.
“She tried to defrost eight pounds of chicken in the microwave—all at once—still in the wrapper.” Berk spoke around the cookies shoved in his face.
“Way to sell me out, Berk!” I cringed and met LJ’s stare. “Whoops!”
13
LJ
I slid on the oven mitt and took the tray of grilled chicken breasts out, sitting them on the stove. Marisa was banned from the kitchen without supervision. She’d accused me of calling her every hour while I was in Michigan. Maybe every other hour.
With Nix, our cooking extraordinaire, gone, we were left with a rotation of bulk cooking to keep everyone from gnawing on the baseboards and to keep Marisa from trying to help us out by pois—cooking for us.
Keyton wasn’t too bad either. All three of us combined managed to at least keep ourselves full and geared up for practices. There were also the occasional stops at the dining hall to acquire large quantities of lunch meat.
We’d won against the Wildcats and our next two games. The season was halfway over, and I barely had enough tape to make it to a European football league, let alone the pros.
The reminder of why I needed to figure this situation out was blasted in my face while talking to my mom.
“Yes, I have my vitamin C powder.” I switched my phone to the other ear.
“The air on those planes is so rough on you.”
“I’ll be okay, Mom. And I’ll come home next Thursday for your birthday dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I know you’re busy with the season and classes. Aren’t you on a plane at dawn the next day?”
“I’m not going to miss your birthday.”
“As long as you know you don’t have to.”
“Is dad making his brisket and lobster mac & cheese?”
“Of course.”
“Then you can’t keep me away.”
“Just you? Is Marisa coming?”
“I’ll ask her. They have a big new exhibition coming to the museum and she’s been spending a lot of time there, and working on her presentation for her fellowship application, which I’m headed to after I get off the call with you.”
“I hope she’s not working too hard. What’s this fellowship she’s applying for?”
“She might be going to Venice for two years after graduation.” My throat clenched. It was still hard to say the words, but I didn’t freeze every time I thought about it now. Slowly, I’d work out how to keep all the pieces together when it felt like they were slipping away.
“Two years…”
“I know! I said the same thing.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m happy for her. She loved Venice and it seemed like Venice loved her.” Every time we’d video chatted, she had a new exciting discovery to tell me about. A painting she’d finally seen up close. How the brush strokes weren’t what she expected. The smell of the room sent her into a five-minute TED talk on temperature-controlled preservation.
As hard as it had been to have her gone for the whole summer, seeing the happiness pouring off her in waves had helped. She deserved that and more.
“That’s it?”
“How else is there to feel about it?”
“You two have been nearly joined at the hip since third grade. And she’s going to be moving to another country for two years.”
“She was away all summer and we still talked loads.” Not as much as I’d have liked. I’d hated not being able to experience it all with her. The Henri talk hadn’t made it any easier. Now she might have a whole year with her art appreciation accomplice, dashing from one historical site to another.
“But you’ll be so busy with football.”
“That’s a big if, Mom.” Letting my family down was the last thing I wanted to do, but I’d rather under-promise and over-deliver. With the time I’d been playing this season and my agent squawking in my ear every chance he got, concern of not making the cut mounted every game. The Plan B of getting an office job didn’t provide nearly the security my family needed or anything close to what I’d need for all my big plans for me and Marisa.
“Your father and I wanted to talk to you about it, but weren’t sure how to bring it up. What is going on with your playing time this season? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”
I paced, squeezing the back of my neck. “The coach and I aren’t seeing eye to eye.”
“The coach as in Marisa’s dad?”
Her short hmm came from her end of the line.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Worry edged into her tone.
I’d figure it out. I’d figure something out, although the time was ticking down.
“Your sister has been working on her portfolio painting since September and she can’t wait to show it to you.”
Clinging to the subject change, I jumped to Quinn. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“She’s entering it into a scholarship competition for RISD, but there are only so many spaces.”
The Rhode Island School of Design had been the school Quinn set her sights on when she was eleven and I was fifteen. It was one of the best art schools in the country and had an annual price tag the size of a luxury car. And all bells and whistles of a luxury car.
“Does she have a backup plan?”
“Pratt. Cal Arts.” The chuckle was barely stifled.
I groaned. Just like that, we were right back at how important this season was. Her dreams and mine were intertwined, and the whole family was looking to me for the way out, even if they said they weren’t.
Quinn deserved to go. So much of her childhood had been being shuttled around to hospitals with dad or stuck at home with me, or even worse, brought to football practice with me. She and Marisa would hang out in the stands and split concessions during games.