Chapter Four
<><> Miriam <><>
Sitting at the piano with my student, my mind drifts into Chris Loman territory. Having scoured my freshman yearbook only to find a blank square where his senior photo should have been, I’m convinced this guy was a figment of my imagination. It’s been two weeks since the dreaded tow-truck incident that robbed Jacinta of a whopping one hundred and seventy-five dollars…seventy-five of which was mine and another twenty-five from Bailey. Jacinta’s parents inevitably found out, as parents usually do. The place where we picked up the car called to tell Jacinta she’d forgotten her driver’s license on the counter and her mom answered, so...busted. Since that night I can’t stop thinking about the way Chris Loman looked at me from the tow-truck’s side mirror, how our eyes locked in a kind of search. I’ve never experienced that kind of stare-down before with a boy and it still has me dizzy. It’s very rare for me to have a crush this intense, especially one that survives two weeks!
The thud of the piano keys as my student haphazardly plunks her fingers down pulls my attention back to the present – a place I’d rather not be. It’s far more entertaining to let my thoughts zero in on a mysterious, handsome badass that I have absolutely no chance with and would never risk dating even if I did have the chance. Thinking about him is thrilling, yet safe. It’s similar to the way I used to fantasize about the lead singer of that now defunct alternative band a few years ago.
“Hold on, Fiona, lets try that again. A little softer this time.”
She sighs dramatically and starts at the beginning of the page. This girl is so off-key it makes me want to self-implode, yet I remain composed and view this as a test in patience. I’ve been teaching piano to young kids for the past two years from my house. I also teach swimming lessons every Tuesday and Saturday at the Community Centre a few blocks away. To be honest, I’m not doing these kinds of things for my own enjoyment. They serve an important purpose – bridging the gap into Teacher’s College. You have to shine because it’s not all about grade point average anymore. Adding extra curricular and teaching-type jobs to the application essay was important. Admittance into teaching is ultra competitive and I had to go above and beyond to get noticed. Now that I’ve been accepted for next year, I teach piano and swimming to save for college and supplement my scholarship.
“Good, Fiona, you’re really getting the hang of it.” I try to be encouraging while wishing I had earplugs. Still, she has improved since her first lesson six months ago, I shouldn’t complain. Okay, maybe just a little since my ears are about to bleed.
Glancing at the clock and realizing I have another twenty minutes of pure torture to sit through, I let my mind wander back to Chris Loman’s eyes locking onto mine and how powerful it was. It seemed mutual, though I’m not quite sure. I probably had my mouth open as I stared, catching flies like some moron. What I found totally romantic probably had him thinking I’m a little slow. Some birthday that turned out to be. At least I had fun with my girlfriends.
After saying goodbye to Fiona and assuring her that things will sound better by next week if she practices, I slump onto the couch. I have to find the energy to go shopping for not one, but two prom dresses with Jacinta this afternoon. As Bailey predicted, Ryan did ask me to attend the Sacred Hills prom and I accepted. In return, he agreed to come to my final East McKinley High prom a week later.
My phone vibrates around the coffee table. Lazily, I pick up.
“I have news,” Bailey says as a hello.
“Give it to me.”
“Last night, while Halton and I were leaving the Buffalo Bison’s game, Chris Loman cornered me and asked about Jacinta. He’s interested. Should I tell her? I mean, would it even make any difference? I know how she feels about those guys.”
My heart plummets like an anchor. Do I tell Bailey how attracted I am to Chris? That I thought it was mutual? Tell her this news is hitting me like a sledgehammer to the ego? I finally say something, “Um….”
“Well?”
“What did he say exactly?”
“He asked who she was, but I told him she doesn’t date. I didn’t want to go into detail as to why she would never date him. I thought that might sound racist considering her view on white boys.”
I have to tread lightly. Do I shove my growing feelings for Chris aside and support the potential pairing? How can I justify 'growing feelings' when I’ve never said one word to this guy? Does a crush from afar constitute a connection? Highly doubtful. “You should tell her. I’m sure she’ll be flattered.”
“Why would she be flattered? Remember who did the asking.”
“What was he like?”
“What do you mean?”
“When he asked you about her. What was he wearing? Was he nervous?”
Silence.
“Bailey, I’m only trying to get a feel for how serious he was and if Jacinta should waste her time.”
“Oh, okay. Well, he was wearing a baseball hat, jeans, and a white tee shirt. He seemed a little nervous.”
I mull over the image, envisioning him asking about me, not Jacinta.
“I’ll let you go. I want to tell her about it before she leaves for her belly dancing class. I’ll text you back with her reaction.”
Before I can say goodbye, Bailey’s gone. My two-week buzz of anticipation fizzles into dull disappointment. Why am I so consumed by him?
“Miriam?” Mom’s voice bounces down the hall.
“Yes?”
“May I have your help for a moment please?”
Thinking it’s something medical, I rush down the hall and find her leaning over the dining room table. Sunlight floods the room, the light catching wisps of her short brown hair and making it look thicker than it really is. She doesn’t have her wig on today. She rarely does when it’s just the two of us since it’s so hot. Sometimes she’ll wear a scarf around her head depending on her mood.
She looks up from a pad of paper and holds my stare, her smile indicating I have nothing to worry about, so I slow down and pretend I wasn’t panicking like I usually do. “What’s up?”
“Remember I told you about my plans for the backyard? Well, I’m wondering if you can look over this drawing for me. I’ve sketched out what I have in mind.”
I lean over the rough sketch. My mom has always been artistic and free-spirited — the total opposite of me and I completely understand her vision when I glance at the drawing. Grey charcoal smudges and streaks represent rounded cobblestones and tall grasses. She has drawn our backyard from a birds-eye-view. “It looks like an oasis, Mom, really beautiful. How much will this cost?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m not.” She winks and pulls the drawing closer. “I was thinking of adding a gazebo here,” she points to the far right corner, “so we can lounge around and read this summer. Like a little getaway, only steps from the house. What do you think?”
“I love it.” The thought of my mom planning our backyard makes it hard to breathe. Her time to truly enjoy it may be limited, the reality of her situation more evident than ever. She has breast cancer. I put on my brightest smile to hide my sorrow for her sake.
“What a difference it will be, and no grass to cut! Imagine that.”
“Sounds perfect, Mom.”
Our backyard is a large rectangle of grass and has been since my mom and I moved in six years ago after my parents’ divorce. My dad moved to Connecticut for work and had a female roommate within six months. They’re now married and have a three-year-old son; the boy he always wanted. I hardly see him anymore. He tries to make an effort, but he’s busy with his new family and I have my own life. We talk every Sunday evening or whenever I feel like calling. He rarely calls unless it’s Sunday. It hurts, but I’m old enough to handle the rejection.
This little Bungalow has been our home, our refuge. Completing the backyard seems like the natural next step, but it’s bitter sweet. Part of me thinks it’s a waste of time and energy since we may have to sell this house sooner rather than later. Another part of me sees Mom’s point; life is precious and she wants to enjoy it surrounded by beauty and I want that for her too. I’ve come to realize that this project is her way of holding on, of being in control of one thing while another thing takes control of her. If it means living in a mud pit for part of the summer so she can experience a fraction of control over cancer, I’m in. Anything to make her happy. “It’s going to be an amazing transformation.”
“I was hoping you’d like it, sweetie.”
The landline rings and I head for the kitchen, grabbing it off the wall. Why we still have one is beyond me since we usually use our cell phones.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Miriam.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Did you get my message wishing you a happy birthday two weeks ago?”
“Yes, I got it.”
“We just got back last night, so I’m following up.” Following up? What am I, an appointment? “Wanted to wish you a heartfelt birthday person to person instead of in a message.”
“Thanks.”
“Lindsay extends her wishes as well.” I hear my young step-mom in the background talking to my little brother, Reece. Her getting on the phone to wish me a Happy Birthday would be too ‘uncomfortable’ for all involved. Her age, coupled with how quickly she swooped in after my parents’ split, means the discomfort between us is likely to linger. It’s her, not me. She gets all weird and panicky when I’m around. I once overheard them discussing her apparent inability to relax around a teenager and how it causes her unwanted stress. I find this hard to believe considering she was a teenager not that long ago.
“How was Hawaii?” That’s where they’ve been on vacation for two weeks. I, of course, wasn’t invited.
“Great, but I’m tired from all we did there. Parasailing, hiking, snorkeling; I need a vacation from my vacation!” He chuckles lightly.
I remain calm while seething with jealousy.
“I promise to take you out for a fancy steak dinner next time I’m in town, okay?”
“Sure.” I don’t eat meat, a reality my dad often forgets. When he does remember, he treats 'my little idiosyncrasy' as a passing fad.
“Maybe I can come for a visit one weekend at the end of summer.”
“Sure, Dad. That would be nice.”
“My cousin’s daughter is getting married in Rochester at the end of August. That could coincide with our visit.”
“Maybe. It would be convenient for you.” Why do I suddenly feel like he’s fitting me into his pre-planned summer itinerary?
“How are things? Ready for school to end?”
“Yes. I have final exams coming up and then prom and graduation. Everything seems so final lately.”
“You’ll pass easily. How’s your mother?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? She’s feeling better then?”
Not really. “Yes, she’s fine.”
“That’s good. Tell her I say hello.”
“I will.”
“Hold on, someone wants to talk to you.”
Thinking hell just froze over, my belly drops to the floor in preparation for an awkward conversation with Lindsay until a tiny voice comes on.
“Happy Birthday, Miriam.”
“Thanks, Reece.” My half brother is adorable, but he’s three and I’m eighteen. Not much in common.
“What toys did you get for your birthday?” he asks.
“None. I don’t get toys anymore. Too bad, huh?”
Silence, and then, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue. What’s yours?”
“Green. Is it raining where you are?”
“Nope. It’s sunny.”
“It’s raining here. Bye,” he says abruptly.
I suppose he found out all he needed to. “Oh, okay, bye!”
I hear my dad fumbling with the phone. “He’s a kid of few words. Listen, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you’re busy with studying and everything.”
“Okay. Thanks for calling.”
“I’ll call this Sunday. Bye, Miriam.”
“Bye.”
Sauntering out of the kitchen, I can’t escape my sudden feeling of dejection. Why do some relationships have to be so complicated and difficult? It’s not like my dad and I ever had marathon conversations. He has always been sparse in the dialogue department, yet since he left, his superficial talks have me feeling empty and unimportant. I stand next to mom again, both of us staying quiet as we gaze at the backyard plans. When she finally meets my eyes, I shrug. There’s nothing I can say to her that she hasn’t already lived with my dad.
“Your father means well. He has always had a difficult time with emotions and feelings. I could never get him to open up about much.”
“It’s okay, Mom, I’m used to the way he is. I can’t change him.”
“The sooner you know that about men, the better.” She glances down and points. “I need your opinion about this garden here on the left. Should it be fruit or vegetable or non-edible?”
“Non-edible? Like a flowerbed?”
“Yes.”
“What about a mix of everything?”
“You read my mind.” Picking up her charcoal pencil, she sketches a few familiar looking plants and low trees, making it look easy. “There.”
The doorbell rings and she shoots me a look. “I forgot he changed the appointment from eleven thirty to eleven. Sweetie, I need a moment to get ready. Would you mind letting him in?”
“Him?”
“The man from Newton’s Landscaping.”
“Sure.”
She slowly walks to her bedroom as I head for the front door. I open it and…how is this happening? I’m staring at an equally surprised Chris Loman through the glass storm door. Pushing it open, we’re face to face, both remaining silent with curious expressions. “Hi?”
Chris clears his throat and looks at his feet before fixing his stare on me again, but this time he’s wearing a huge grin. “Hi. I’m here about the landscaping job.”
It’s only now that I give myself permission to scan the length of him. Wearing a green baseball hat that says Newton’s Landscaping, a white tee shirt, kaki cargo shorts, tan work boots, and a blue binder tucked under his arm, it’s clear he’s here for a job, not for me.
“Um, okay. Come in.”
In my utter shock, my tongue feels like it’s wrapped in wool and my heart is racing right up into my throat. And then I remember my conversation with Bailey a mere twenty minutes ago. Chris Loman was asking about Jacinta, not me.
“My mom called to set up this appointment. She’ll be out in a minute,” I say with a bit of frost in my voice, the thought of his outright rejection suddenly fuelling my abilities to speak coherently. He likes Jacinta, he likes Jacinta...
“Sounds good.” As he stands at the center of the foyer, I can tell he’s not sure what to do or say and then he surprises me. “I’m really happy to see you again. I didn’t think I ever would. You looked hot in that dress the other night.”
What do I say to that? This guy is hot for my friend, he’s supposed to be professional, and now he seems to be hitting on me? I’m double shocked.
“Hi there, you must be Chris,” Mom says, emerging from the hallway. Her long dark wig is styled neatly and she’s wearing pink lipstick and some blush. She looks like her normal, pre-illness self. Beautiful. “I’m Sandra Pritchard. Thank you for coming.”
She shakes his hand and Chris instantly morphs into a businessman before my eyes. After he takes off his work boots, Mom guides him into the dining room as I trail behind in a hazy cloud of disbelief. This has got to be a sign. Chris Loman showing up at my door? What are the chances! He likes Jacinta, he likes Jacinta...I repeat this mantra over and over in my head to smash down my rising interest.
“You’ve met my daughter, then?” Mom asks. What a loaded question.
“Yes,” Chris says quietly and gives me a quick smile. My stomach betrays me by doing a complete belly flop. He places his blue binder down on the table and flips it open, pulling out a few pamphlets with photographs of Newton’s previous projects. I stand beside Mom and glance at them, highly impressed. The photos are green and tidy with meticulously aligned hedges and perfectly plum walkways – definitely my style. Looking over, I see Mom’s face twist a little. “They look very…British.”
I then look at Chris for his reaction. He scratches his jaw in thought. “You’re thinking of something more organic, aren’t you.”
“Exactly.” Mom grabs her sketch and yanks it over, laying it on top of the pamphlets. “Maybe some proper English garden in one corner with a splash of Buddhist Zen in that corner, with a bunch of wild flowers here and there. You know, a mix of everything.”
Chris and I lock eyes and I see that his are sparkling with unmistakable excitement. A client requesting a bit of everything obviously has his creative juices flowing. “What’s this here?” he points.
“A Gazebo. I understand your boss does structural landscaping as well.”
“He sure does. We all do. We’re a no-nonsense team at Newton’s. Why don’t we take a look at the space together? That way you can walk me through your ideas and I can see if they’ll fit the space.”
“Sure. Are you coming, sweetie?”
“No, I’ll stay here.”
“We’ll be back in a minute.”
Carrying his boots to the back, Chris slips them on and follows her through the glass sliding door to the backyard. After he closes it, I sprint to my room and call Bailey, all the while sneaking peeks at them through my bedroom window. I discretely open it a crack so I can hear them, keeping my voice low so they can’t hear me. “Bay, you’ll never, ever guess who’s at my house right now!” I whisper screech.
“Who?”
“Chris Loman.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s going to be landscaping our backyard!”
“But how?”
“He works for the company.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because he’s in the backyard right now talking to my mom.”
“Do you mean to tell me that Chris Loman will be camped out at your house this summer and he’s there right now?”
“Yes!” I hiss, unable to control myself.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know, until he leaves. Another half hour.”
“No, how long will the landscaping take?”
“I have no idea, a month maybe?”
“OMG, I have to call Jacinta. She’s going to die!”
“What did she say when you told her about Chris?” I ask as I watch him from a distance. His hands rest on his muscular hips as he looks around our yard’s perimeter. This boy is the very definition of off-limits hottie.
“Said she’s flattered that Chris asked about her, but she would much rather it be Kyle Loman instead. She also said, and I quote, 'Neither brother is brown enough anyway', end quote. See? I knew it.”
“Bay, they’re coming back. I have to go.”
“Call me the minute he’s gone. I want details.”
Mom’s voice gets louder as I walk toward the dining room to join them. The three of us stare at the sketches again.
“Are a rock wall and pond over here also doable?” Mom asks.
“Absolutely. Some low shade plants will go perfectly under the wall and we can tuck some draping moss into the cracks of the stones so it cascades down and looks natural and established. And what about two fruit trees right here? That way they’ll pollinate each other. Buffalo is the perfect climate for growing tender fruit.”
Mom and I glance at each other, mutually impressed with the suggestion. Chris obviously knows what he’s doing. “What kind of fruit trees?”
“Well, cherry has pretty blossoms in the spring, but the fruit doesn’t last very long and it can attract a lot of birds. Birds are noisy.”
“And messy,” I say.
“Right.” Chris does this little sexy smirk and my knees go weak. I’m now officially a teenage cliché.
“Cherry is out,” Mom says. “What about apple or pear?”
“Definitely. You certainly have the space and a fantastic blank canvas out there.”
“So, Chris, I’ll leave it up to you to design everything?”
“Absolutely. I just need a little time to put together a portfolio for you and I’ll be sure to use your sketches in the design.”
"Can’t rush artistic genius, right?” Mom jokes. It’s rare for her to give up the control I thought she needed from this backyard project, but I can tell she trusts Chris implicitly. I suddenly realize she’s too tired to bother with it herself now, which fills me with a deep sadness. “We should discuss an estimated completion date though. I know artistic genius takes time, but I’d like the project completed by the first week of August so we can enjoy it for the remainder of the summer. Is that a possibility?”
“Al already has you scheduled to start next week.” Chris glances over at me. “And I’ll be heading up the project from beginning to end, so you’ll be dealing directly with me if you want to make changes or have any concerns.”
Gulping, I wonder if Chris can sense my nervous giddiness. What the heck is wrong with me?
“Yes, Al highly recommended you for the job and I trust his judgment. He brought me a few pictures of projects you’ve personally completed with your crew. Stunning, just stunning.”
“Thanks.”
“Everything sounds great, Chris.” Mom’s voice rises with happiness and it’s like music to my ears. Anything to get my mom excited and distracted from her illness gets me excited too. And I have to admit, being forced to look at Chris Loman for the next six weeks won’t be too difficult, even if he is interested in my friend.
“Oh, there’s one more thing,” Chris says. “Al was hoping to get a down payment today.”
“For how much?”
“Three thousand.”
“I’ll grab my checkbook. Back in a second.”
Mom leaves and Chris and I stand staring at her drawing. Then I sense his eyes on me so I turn to face him, catching him off guard. He looks away, clearing his throat. “I guess you’re not too happy to see me, are you. Is this going to be weird?”
“No, why should it be?” I ask.
“You know, because of the way we met. I’m really sorry about my friend Simon. He’s kind of stubborn.”
“He was just doing his job, right?”
“Yes, but he could have given your friend a break. He should have taken your fifty buck offer.”
“I wish he had. Walking five blocks in those stupid heels wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my eighteenth birthday, but whatever.”
Chris winces. “Ouch.”
“No big deal.”
“Uh, happy birthday?”
Mom comes back and stands between us, totally unaware of the playful tension Chris Loman and I share. Maybe it’s one sided, but it’s absolutely there. Flipping open the checkbook, she scrawls out the amount and hands it to him.
“Thanks,” he says, giving her this absolutely adorable grin. It’s like ammo shooting down my defenses. “I’ll bring a receipt in a couple of days when I bring over the portfolio. Does Thursday at four work?”
“That’s fine,” says Mom. “When is the official start day?”
“If you approve of the plans, we’ll start as early as next Monday. And just to let you know, we usually work the first couple of Saturdays during the ground breaking portion of the project.”
“When things get really messy?”
“You got it.”
“No problem,” Mom says with a smile.
Chris gathers up the pamphlets and tucks Mom’s sketches into the binder. “I’d better go. My truck’s parked on the street and I noticed that isn’t allowed on weekdays between nine and three. I’ll have to let my crew know.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to get towed,” I say, which gets his attention.
Mom begins walking toward the foyer as Chris winks at me, setting my heart racing.
“Being towed would not be good,” he says.
“No, getting towed is never fun.” Unable to stop myself, I’m officially flirting with Chris Loman.
~ ~ ~ ~
The next day after school, our house fills with the sound of laughter and gossip. Bailey comes over with her mom, Holly, and youngest brother, Desmond, who heads straight for the television after giving my mom a hug. Jacinta brings along her mom, Nunny. My mom is wearing a bright pink scarf around her head with matching pink lipstick. Despite her pale skin, she glows with color. Her best friends are here and she’s overjoyed to be in their company. Our moms have known each other longer than we’ve been alive. They met while working at City Hall together, each in their own departments. Jacinta’s mom was a lawyer at the time and is now a Judge. With her thick Jamaican accent and no-nonsense personality, she’s a force to be reckoned with. I’m always on my best behavior around Nunny King.
Bailey’s mom is the nicest, calmest person I’ve ever met. She’s like the yin to Nunny’s dramatic yang. If there was ever a person to confide a secret to, it’s Holly Ulrikson. She’s like a vault. She works in the City Planning Department.
My mom is the Switzerland of the three friends, the neutral easy-going one. Before her long-term disability leave, she worked as a Senior Labor Relations Consultant. It has taken me years to fully understand what that title entails. I know she gives advice, investigates grievances, provides research and analysis support, and negotiates collective agreements. Still confused? So am I. Basically, its human resources and business management all mashed into one career. To boil it down, Mom’s good with people and she makes them get along. Everyone gets along with Mom. Even my dad got along with her – right up until he left, which made his sudden departure all the more painful for her. They barely even argued before getting a divorce. Mom is steadfast, yet carefree even in the middle of a life-threatening illness. She’s my ultimate role model.
Holly, Nunny, and Mom’s pregnancies overlapped and they happened to take maternity leave together. Everyone at City Hall had called it a mini baby boom. They’ve stuck together through thick and thin ever since, so it was only natural that we daughters gravitated toward each other. Junior High was when we really started hanging around together; striving for independence during a time of mutual change. As we distanced ourselves from our moms, our close friendships became a substitute. We’re like an extension of their adult friendship, a cloning of sorts. Bailey, Jacinta and I are closer than any friends I’ve met at school. We’re like sisters who know each other’s deepest secrets and dreams. Even so, there are still things I keep to myself. My off the charts attraction to Chris Loman being one of them. Especially since he seems to be more interested in Jacinta. I was never one to be second best. I’d rather be alone than second best to anyone. Still, I’m allowed to flirt. It’s innocent and going nowhere.
Our moms gather around each other in the kitchen, talking quickly and close as usual. Holly and Nunny are telling Mom about work, the latest gossip at City Hall, and asking how her chemo is going. These ladies would do anything for her, and I know she’d reciprocate any day of the week. True-blue friends. I’d do the same for Bailey and Jacinta too.
“Did you find out your role in the play?” I ask Bailey as we walk to my room. This is Bailey’s second season with a local theatre group. She’s always been involved in every high school play, drama club, and theatre arts camp in existence.
“Unfortunately,” she huffs. “I don’t understand why I have to be an understudy for the second year running.”
“What! They’re blind, Bay,” says Jacinta as she sprawls across my bed like it’s her own. “Clearly you’re lead material.”
“I know, right!” Bailey sighs. “How can I be taken seriously at Rutgers if I’m still being cast in inadequate roles for my range? I’m majoring in Theatre next year for goodness sake!”
“Seriously, they must be completely blind,” I say. “What’s the play again?”
“Shakespeare. Twelfth Night.”
“Right. Want me to hire someone to take out the lead actress?”
Bailey giggles. “Tempting, Miri, tempting.”
“When’s the play?”
“First Saturday in August. I still want you guys there for opening night if that’s okay.”
“Of course. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Jacinta nods in agreement.
“Okay, switching subjects. Has he called you yet?” Bailey asks Jacinta.
“Nope.”
“Do you want him to?”
“What would I say?” Jacinta feigns indifference, inspecting her newly polished nails.
“How about hello?”
I dig through the papers on my desk to find my English study notes, pretending not to be too interested in the subject of Chris. Jacinta reaches up and opens the window, letting the warm June air whip my gauzy white curtains around. “I don’t understand why Chris Loman would be interested in me anyway. We’ve never talked before and he didn’t even look at me that night. I could have sworn he was checking you out, Miri.”
The comment catches me off guard. “Me?”
“Don’t you think so, Bay?”
Bailey sighs again. It’s her dramatic trademark. “Listen, I think you both could do a lot better. Why are we even talking about him?”
Jacinta giggles, “Because it’s exciting. The guy situation is dismal at the moment, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bailey beams.
“You have Halton,” Jacinta turns to me, “and now you have Ryan. I meant dismal for me.”
“Hold on, I do not have Ryan. I don’t think I even want him.”
“Why not?”
Because I want someone else! “I don’t know. There’s just something missing.”
“He’s a catch, Miri, don’t you think so?”
“He is, but…”
“And he’s got a car,” Bailey reminds, a top priority as far as she’s concerned.
“And amazing style. He’s smart too. He’s going to Duke in the fall.”
“And that’s exactly why I don’t want to start anything with him. He’s leaving. What’s the point?”
“A summer full of steamy dates, that’s the point. Come on, Miriam, you owe it to yourself.”
As Jacinta gets up, Bailey flops down on my bed and rolls onto her side, staring me down. “I agree. Shake it up a bit. You’ve been staying home more often to look after your mom. Maybe you need a summer of pure, crazy sex!”
“Shhh,” I hiss.
“I hear Ryan is very attentive,” she says, keeping it going. “You can learn a few things before College.”
“Stop it!” I try to look stern, but she’s laughing and it cracks me up.
“Have you kissed him yet?” Jacinta fuels the fire. She can always be counted on to lead the charge in a worthy cause.
“No.”
“But you want to?”
Huffing, I put my notes in order and avoid their stares. “It might be nice, but like I said, I don’t have time for a guy right now.”
“Speaking of guys, when does Chris start landscaping your backyard? I can’t believe that. Total coincidence,” Bailey says.
“No way,” Jacinta gets up and plants herself in front of my wardrobe mirror, squinting to inspect her face. “Nothing’s a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason. I should check my horoscope to see if his moon is entering mine. That would explain our proximity.” She pulls out her phone to check.
“But wouldn’t he be landscaping your backyard if your moons were joining forces?” says Bailey, always the astrological pessimist.
“Maybe I’ll have to come over and strut around for his viewing pleasure,” Jacinta says, ignoring Bailey’s comment. She straightens and poses in front of the mirror. Her Jamaican curves are busting out seductively, yet she’s the most lady-like girl I know. “I don’t think he could handle this much woman.”
This gets Bailey and I laughing. Jacinta wiggles some more and I stare in wonder, wishing I could be that easygoing and confident with my body. I admire her for really owning it, always have.