FarfallAni: What did I miss???? Ani was beginning to catch on to how useful punctuation marks were in texts. Did I see what I think I saw????!!!!??
JollyRockerTBird: What did you think you saw????
FarfallAni: MACK-ARONI AND CHEESE????!!!!
JollyRockerTBird: Oooooh. All caps. You mad? Ani refused to follow texting etiquette rules and I teased her about it every chance I got.
FarfallAni: NOPE! HAPPY!!!! MACK-DONALDS HAPPY ME(al)!!!!
JollyRockerTBird: Okay. Stop with the mack puns. You do know that word doesn’t mean kissing, right? But FYI: Lots of cheese, no mack-aroni, as you put it.
FarfallAni: Whatevs. Making out=Macking in my book. Makes perfect sense to me. And what the WHAT??? Why no mack-aroni? Ani had a thing about cussing. She hated it, which is one of the many reasons I’d resorted to pirate insults and curses instead of swear words. Not only did it keep me out of trouble with my super-conservative parents, but more often than not, the silly words diffused whatever tension there was that caused me to feel the need to uncork the potty-mouth, and most of the time, the circumstances righted themselves as the animosity dissipated.
JollyRockerTBird: I don’t mack and tell. I peered out my window to the house across the street, but Ani’s bedroom light was off. It was too early for her to be in bed, and since she was texting me, it must mean she was watching television with her folks.
FarfallAni: Whatever. If you’re not going to mack and tell, don’t mack and cheese on the front porch with all the lights on.
JollyRockerTBird: Dude. Do you even know what that word means??? No macking, but yes, it was a LOT of cheese. He called me a vixen.
FarfallAni: WHAT? What did you DO TO HIM???? DID YOU MACK ON HIM??? So she did know what it meant.
JollyRockerTBird: As in a female red fox. Not a slut.
FarfallAni: Still. Vixen is a little cheesy.
JollyRockerTBird: A LOT cheesy.
FarfallAni: Yeah. A lot cheesy. Did you laugh?
JollyRockerTBird: Not until you started macking with Mikey up there.
FarfallAni: Did you like that? I could practically hear her giggling over her own antics.
JollyRockerTBird: No, but I’m sure Mikey did. Ani named, and still had, every one of her stuffed animals. I think it must have been an only child thing—I had three on the top shelf of my bookcase, but they were more important to me because of who they came from than because of who they were. Two were gifts from grandparents, and the third was from Ani, a nearly two-foot-tall hideous stuffed ostrich. She insisted I named it Ozzy Ozbourne, but I called it Sharon to bug her.
FarfallAni: You’re just jealous that I got more action than you did tonight. So much potential, too.
JollyRockerTBird: Remind me again why I’m even still speaking to you. I really think he was going to kiss me. Then you started in on your mack-attack…
FarfallAni: Now who’s over-using the mack puns? You want to talk? Or just lie in bed and dream about your music man? Sigh deeply and repeatedly. Hum an aimless tune in sporadic intervals. Drool on the pillow a little. You know, all that love stuff.
I dialed her number.
“He came inside to say hi to my folks. Mom practically begged him to stay for something to eat—”
“Your mom. Always feeding people,” Ani quipped sympathetically.
“Actually, that’s exactly what she did. When I filled her in on why he had to leave so quickly, she packed up enough spaghetti and garlic bread to feed a whole family, let alone just Foster and Sebastian. She also filled a second container for him to take home to his dad.”
Ani laughed out loud. “Poor Sebastian. He’ll get used to it if he plans on sticking around. Your mom is rather… um, persuasive when it comes to doling out food. So what did you tell her?”
I plugged in my headset and tucked my phone into my bra, and then headed downstairs to the kitchen. It was only a little after eleven, but the house was quiet. My parents had closed down for the night shortly after Sebastian left, and I hadn’t seen Jordan since before practice last night. He was either out again, something he seemed to be doing more of lately, or we’d somehow not crossed paths while coming and going on our own schedules.
“He said something to me tonight that made me a little sad,” I blurted out, remembering his whispered words. “A couple of weeks ago he had a big Saturday breakfast with us, remember? Ben, Marilyn, and the kids were here for that meal, too, as well as Tom, so it was one big happy family, minus a few brothers.”
“And that made you sad?”
“Not that, Miss Impatience. I was teasing him about the fact that we’d told him all our secrets but he’d given us none of his, therefore, we were going to talk about him behind his back after he took off. So he told me one of his secrets.” I sighed, thinking of all the possible scenarios behind his words. “He said that was the first time he’d ever eaten breakfast around a table like that.”
Ani made a strange noise, something between a gulp and a strangled breath. “Oh, Tish. That really is sad. I wonder what that means?”
“I think it means he hasn’t ever eaten breakfast at a table before.” I couldn’t help jabbing at her a little, but I didn’t want to get all maudlin again. My emotions surrounding Foster and Pete were completely at odds with how I felt about Sebastian right now, and I selfishly wanted to focus on the latter.
“I know that, Tish. But why not? Do he and his dad not have a table? Do they not eat breakfast together? And even so, not in all the years he’s been alive? I mean, he’s got to be in his twenties, right? How does anyone go twenty-some years without eating breakfast at a table? You can’t eat a stack of pancakes on the sofa, can you?”
“You done?” I asked, my tone dry. I was teasing her, though, and she knew it. In spite of her babbling, everything she said had crossed my mind, too. “It makes me sad, because between that and what he said earlier at the park about people not being okay with their lives, but doing the best they could—”
“Yes!” Ani interrupted. “That made me wonder, too!”
“Yeah, so between those statements and a few other things he’s said and done—”
“All the stuff in his trunk, T-Bird?” she interrupted again.
“Yep, and even how familiar he was with Foster. Something isn’t adding up right, and I’m beginning to wonder what home is like for him.” I pulled open the refrigerator door, not really hungry, but wanting something. I grabbed an apple from the produce drawer, halved it, peeled and cored it, then sprinkled the two halves with salt. My grandfather had taught me the art of Granny Smiths and salt; it was the only way I ate green apples. “Sorry. Going to crunch in your ear a bit.”
“Hey, Squeak.” Jordan made his way down the hall from his bedroom, greeting me when he was close enough to not have to yell. The parental units were probably already asleep. I pointed at the phone pressed to my ear.
He didn’t get the hint. Instead, he dropped to a stool across the island from me and rested his forearms on the counter, making it clear he would sit there and wait for me to hang up. I sighed and told Ani I’d call her back later.
“Where have you been?” I asked. “Or were you here all evening?”
“Just got in about an hour ago,” Jordan replied, but something about the way he said it made me cock my head and eye him quizzically. We must have just missed each other.
“And?”
Jordan shrugged. “And nothing. Tom and I spent a couple of hours at Steak ‘n’ Fries. Won’t get many more chances before he leaves.”
And my little balloon of happiness burst with a silent “poof” above my head. “Well, good. I’m glad you two are making a point to spend some time together.”
“And who did you spend time together with this fine summer evening?” Jordan asked. Now I really knew he was up to something. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Who’s asking? You or Tom?”
Jordan chuckled sympathetically, snatched one of the apple pieces from my bowl, grimaced when he took a bite, and tossed it back. “How can you eat those like that?”
“You or Tom?” I repeated, not allowing him to get sidetracked.
“I’m asking.” Jordan skirted the island where I sat and pulled open the fridge, digging out an apple of his own. He didn’t bother washing it, just rubbed it on his shirt a few times, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the germs from the produce stand or from his clothing. He took a huge bite, crunching loudly close to my ear, and I elbowed him, but not very hard. Around his still full mouth, he added, “For Tom.”
I had to laugh. It felt so junior high, and we were all in our twenties. I opted for cryptic. “Foster and Pete.”
Jordan perched on a stool across from me and waited for an explanation, devouring his apple with abandon. But something about the way he watched me told me he already knew the answer to the question he was really asking.
“Oh, and Ani and Juno, of course. It’s Monday night. Dog Park day, remember?” I ate two more slices before he spoke.
“Who is Foster?” he asked. “And the other guy—Pete?”
“Foster is a homeless man who brings his dog, Pete, to the dog park. You’ve met them at Joseph’s Warehouse, remember? Pete and Juno are in a relationship.”
“Ah, yes. I remember.” He took another huge bite, all the way to the core, and a couple of tiny, black seeds fell to the countertop. He flicked one across the slick surface at me. “So you were at the Dog Park until ten tonight?”
But I didn’t want to talk about Foster and Pete, even though I was the one who brought them up, so I chose the lesser of two evils. Let Jordan rib me. Let him tell Tom. At this point, I didn’t really care. I’d much rather he believe I’d spent some one-on-one time with Sebastian than to have to explain what I’d really spent the last several hours doing for Foster.
“We might have run into Sebastian Jeffries at the park, too. Coincidentally, mind you.” I grinned sheepishly at Jordan, trying to sound tongue and cheek, but I noticed the furrowed brow. And the ear tugging. He’d done that since he was a baby. Jordan had suffered from terrible ear infections as a child, and to this day, when distressed or deep in thought, he absentmindedly pulled on his earlobe. He was doing it now. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know anything about him at all, Tish?” He gazed at me, eyes narrowed, like I’d done something wrong. And he used my real name.
“He’s got chops like you’ve never heard, he looks out for people like Foster and Pete, he drives a Nissan Sentra, and he lives with his dad.” It was a very short list, especially since I didn’t include the things I didn’t feel like sharing with my brother. He makes me breathe funny when he’s around, he smells like grassy fields, shadowy woods, and leather-bound books, his eyes remind me of sea glass under a pirate moon, and I think there might just be a little bit of magic running through his veins.
“And he’s a little jumpy,” Jordan added.
“You were attacking me. Holding me down and torturing me,” I retorted.
“Still, he did jump to conclusions pretty quickly. And not just about me, from what I hear.” So Tom and my brother had spent their night discussing little sister and the new guy. Great.
“Maybe he’s just got a really strong protective streak.” And not just concerning me. I’d seen him with Foster and Pete. He felt the weight of responsibility acutely, and he’d gone back to make sure they were okay after he left here. Talk about going way beyond the extra mile. “He actually really does have a protective nature, now that I think about it. I’ve seen it in action several times, now.”
“Just don’t get in too deep with the guy before you really know anything about him, okay?” Jordan pushed away from the counter, tossed the core of his apple in Mom’s camouflaged compost bucket on the counter beside the sink, and headed to the refrigerator. He pulled a tub of ice cream from the freezer, dished himself up a rather large bowl of Cookies and Cream, and leaned back against the counter to eat it. He waited until his mouth was full before adding, “Do your homework on him first.”
“I’m being careful,” I assured him, looking away from his intentional display of bad manners. Actually, I really wasn’t being careful. In fact, I really wasn’t being anything with Sebastian. I was kind of just letting things happen as they happened. Not pursuing, not running, just being. Wasn’t that what was meant by “letting nature take its course?” Or was it me being like a grass reed, tossed around whichever way the wind blew? Tonight, if Sebastian had tried to kiss me, I would have let him. Totally. The fact that he didn’t, which was probably due more to Ani’s interruption than his lack of intention, didn’t bother me too much either. Oh, I wanted him to kiss me, but it was almost like I knew it was going to happen eventually, so I could wait for it.
Like I knew it was going to happen. I looked down at my hands so Jordan couldn’t see my face as I considered that thought. It had come out of nowhere, but now that I’d given words to it, I wanted to mull it over, play with it, let the idea come to life in my imagination.
“Tish. I’m serious.” Jordan waited for me to look at him. “You need to find out a few things about him before you give him a key.”
“Too late. Besides, he filled out paperwork for Corny, so we know where he lives.”
“Corny knows where he lives, and only on paper. You don’t.”
“Semantics.”
“Not semantics, Squeak,” Jordan pushed. “Corny isn’t thinking about making babies with the guy.”
“Jordan!” I actually did squeak. Then I threw my last piece of apple at him.
He snatched it out of the air and tossed it in the compost bucket, too, but kept after me. “I’m not an idiot, little sister. I see the way you look at him.”
“Wait,” I said, my hands up by my head in a halting motion. “When have you seen me look at Sebastian? When he was leaving the other day?” As far as I could remember, I’d looked at his retreating back with dismay and curiosity.
“The front porch?” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through it.
“You—what? You—!” I lurched up off the stool I’d been straddling and grabbed for his phone. He was notably taller than I was, which wasn’t saying much, but from the time I was little, I’d quickly learned the futility of jumping to try and reach what my brothers held above my head. Instead, I went straight for the ribs. If that didn’t work, they all knew the family jewels were my next line of attack.
Jordan dodged my scrabbling claws, though, and circled around the island. I checked myself, remembering my folks were in bed, and glared daggers at him instead. “You are a creeper codfish, Jordan. Taking creeper pictures of your sister with a guy?” I held out a hand. “Give me that.” Why did I suddenly have an intense desire to see what he’d captured in pictures of us? What did I look like when I looked at Sebastian?
“I was sitting in my car in the driveway. You two were so starry-eyed you didn’t even notice me there.” He smirked at me, but under his teasing, I could still see he was worried.
“And why on earth were you sitting in your car? You live here, you know.” He’d been pulling some strange stunts lately. The phone stuff, the disappearing acts. “What is wrong with you? Just erase them, okay? Since you were spying on us, you know nothing happened anyway. Creep.”
“Um, little sister, that was not nothing. I also saw how he looked at you.”
“Now you sound like Mom.” I wiggled my fingers at him in a hand-it-over gesture.
“And Mom is almost always right. You know that.” He turned the phone so I could see the image on the screen, but not close enough for me to grab it. Sure enough, Sebastian and I stood, eye-to-eye, hands clasped between us, looking for all the world like we were getting ready to take a bite out of each other. My breath caught. It really was a lovely picture.
“Jordan, please.” I wasn’t sure what I was asking for.
“Would you like me to send you a copy? Before or after I send a copy to your other brothers? And Tom.”
“Jordan!” I lunged around the end of the island toward him. He was too quick for me, circling around to where I’d stood only a moment before. I heard my phone beep.
“There you go, Squeak. Your call now. Keep it or delete it. I’ve done my part.” He shoved his phone in his pocket, finished off his ice cream, and put the bowl in the sink, filling it with water first, but not bothering to wash it.
“I’m telling Mom,” I declared, pointing at the dirty dish. Wow. Some things never changed in our home. I sounded like the little brat I’d once been.
“That I’m a—what did you call me?—a creepy codfish?”
“No, Barnacle-Butt. That you’re the one who leaves your dirty bowl in the sink every night.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “She already knows. She’s Mom.” He dried only one hand on the dishtowel, and I should have caught on sooner. As he passed me, he reached out and patted me on the cheek with his wet palm.
I squawked like an angry albatross and kicked him in the backside none-too-gently, ignoring all the voices in my head telling me I wasn’t being ladylike.
All those ladies I was supposed to be like obviously didn’t have brothers like mine.