by Kellie Bean
I wait silently, knowing that among the five other members of my family, there’s no way to keep whatever this is quiet for long. I lock eyes with Reagan, willing her to spill whatever is going on.
“Mindy,” she says with an eye roll, referencing her boyfriend’s mom, who also happens to be a reporter for Fairview’s tiny newspaper. May I add that she ambushed us for a story the day we moved in? “Mom agreed that she could do another piece about us before we start our senior year, then again at graduation. The Fairview Four before college kind of thing.”
Ah.
The Fairview Four. It’s a name that almost has me rolling my eyes right along with Reagan. Though my sisters and I grew up in Richmond, we were technically born here in Fairview, the same town where our mom lived as a kid. Back then, the town seemed to think four identical babies was big news. When we moved back, the interest level rose all over again. I thought most of it had passed. I guess not.
I shrug, not about to argue. I would have done another interview simply because my parents asked it of me. If I get my own room because of an interview, then even better.
“They wouldn’t let us pick who gets what room until you got here though,” Reece says.
“Oh. You didn’t have to do that.” Secretly though, I’m glad to be included.
Rhiannon jumps in. “We were thinking Reece and I would take the new rooms in the attic, then you and Reagan both don’t have to move anything, and can stay in the rooms downstairs.”
“That sounds fine.” I guess. It probably means less work for me. If it’s what’s going to make them happy, I’m okay with it.
“No, no,” Mom interjects. “Reilly, you get a say in this too. You don’t have to just go along with whatever your sisters suggest.”
“That sounds good, really,” I say, hoping the slightly more enthusiastic phrase will be enough.
There’s no point in arguing. Whichever room I get will be all mine. If my sisters have already worked this out, there’s little I can do to change anyone’s mind without turning something exciting into a fight.
“Perfect!” Dad says, clapping his hands together with finality. “Then all that’s left to do is to get that attic cleaned out so the space is ready as soon as Mr. Hammonds is ready to jump in. He’s up there taking measurements now. He’s already put in an order for supplies, so it’s probably best if we get this finished tonight.”
Oh good, cleaning. At least I have something to keep me distracted until my dinner plans later. Because we’re all going to clean, I’m sure we can get the attic done pretty quickly. One of the many perks of a big family.
“I’m off to work,” Mom says, standing up from the table. “You can move your computers into the living room while construction is going on, and the furniture will have to go in the garage. For everything else, you’ll need to find space for it in your rooms.”
Only five of us cleaning then. Still, this should go pretty quickly.
We find Mr. Hammonds upstairs, taking measurements along with his nephew who looks like he’s only a few years older than we are. Despite the looks and eyebrow wiggles my sisters are throwing at each other behind the cute assistant’s back as they throw out pop cans, crumpled paper, and empty candy wrappers, they all disappear within half an hour.
Reece has a volunteering shift. Reagan has a date. Rhiannon doesn’t even bother offering up an explanation before she disappears. That leaves Dad and I to finish cleaning up and move an entire floor’s worth of stuff in one night.
“You can stay right, Reilly?” he asks when he finally realizes that everyone else has abandoned ship.
A huge part of me wants to say no, or to point out that he has three other daughters who are just as capable of cleaning the attic. Yeah, they have plans, but what about my plans? I was supposed to have dinner with Rosie and meet her mom. I can’t explain that to anyone, not unless I know Rosie wants me to.
Dad has already looked away, like he assumed my answer was yes and has already moved on. There was never any way I was going to tell him no. He asked for my help and at this point, it’s practically just a habit to say yes.
“Sure,” I answer. Only Mr. Hammonds looks up when I speak. “I just need to do something first.”
I take my phone downstairs, planning to call Rosie, but I’m worried I might start blubbering as soon as I hear her voice. I settle for sending a text message instead, imagining how much more fun my night would be if I was spending it with her instead of stuck in the attic.
Reilly: I can’t make it tonight. My dad needs help with something. It’s exciting though, I’ll tell you later.
Heart sinking, I leave my phone on my pillow and head back up to the attic, disappointment heavy on my soul.
It’s almost ten before I think to check my phone. I’m bone tired. I haven’t decided yet what I want to do with myself after high school, but I think today has safely ruled out construction work of any kind. At least Mr. Hammonds’ nephew, Cam, stepped in to help Dad move the furniture, so things moved a little more smoothly than they might have if it had been me trying to carry the couch down two flights of stairs.
When I finally check my phone, I’ve got three missed calls and one message, all from Rosie. My heart leaps until I read the message.
Rosie: Well this has been the most uncomfortable night of my life.
That’s not good.
I quickly glance at Reece, who is still digging through her closet for something, before I slip into the bathroom and call Rosie back.
“Hello?” she answers right away, a quiver in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, meaning what did I do? What went wrong?
“I told my mom that I was seeing someone, seeing you. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, at least until I had to follow it up with explaining to my mom why my new girlfriend just blew me off for dinner. Not fun, Reilly. What the hell happened?”
Girlfriend. She called me her girlfriend!
She told her mom about me, then I screwed it all up.
My mind is spinning, and I have no idea what to say. Or how to make this better for Rosie. She came out to her mom, only to have me ruin what was already an intense day for her.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, hoping she can hear just how much I mean every word.
Rosie doesn’t answer, not right away, leaving me to imagine the worst. I’ve never been good at seeing other people in pain. I know this is pain that I’ve caused to someone I care so much about. It’s soul crushing.
“Can I come over right now?” I say without thinking.
Rosie sighs into her phone. I’m convinced she’s going to tell me no. Instead, her voice steadies.
“You don’t have to do that, Rye. It’s fine.”
“No, I want to. If you want me there, I want to be there. I’m so sorry I screwed this up for you. Whatever you need me to do to make it up to you, I’m in.”
Another pause that lasts a lifetime.
“How soon can you be here?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Sneaking out?” Reece asks, as I grab my purse off the post where I hung it at the corner of my bed.
She’s moved on to randomly throwing clothes from our floor into a cardboard box. I don’t have the heart to tell her that we still have weeks to go before packing is really going to be an issue.
“What? No,” I answer automatically.
The idea seems insane. Reece may occasionally make plans that involve leaving the house after our parents are out for the night, either sleeping, or doing whatever people without curfews do with their freedom. Rhi isn’t exactly innocent either. Even if my sisters have left the house without my parents knowing, it’s never been something I’ve considered doing.
“Well, you only have a few minutes left before curfew. But hey, you do you.”
A quick glance down at my phone reminds me that she is right. Curfew is ten-thirty during the summer, unless we get permission ahead of time to be out a little later for whatever reason
. Leaving the house after ten while we’re still in high school doesn’t exactly seem like an idea my parents would be enthusiastic about.
I told Rosie I’d head right over, so I still have to walk to the diner. I’ve already bailed on her once tonight, and I’m not doing it again.
I’m already considering how I’d tell Rosie that I’m going to let her down twice on the same night—a night that already has enough potential for drama on its own—in a way that doesn’t let her think any of this was because I don’t care about her.
I come up blank.
Maybe Reece would know what to say, but that would involve explaining everything, and quickly. It’s not like there’s some magical answer she can give me to make any of this better.
No, I’m going to have to face my parents instead. I’m going to have to try. Rosie already took a big leap with her mom today, so I can try and let her courage push me toward my own lesser leap of faith.
“Hey,” I say, coming into the kitchen, where Dad is pouring himself a cup of a fruity smelling herbal tea.
Maybe Rosie was brave enough to have a heart-to-heart with her mom; I at least have the option of going an easier route. When it comes to asking favors, Dad is always the safer bet. In order to reach the counter and my dad, I step around the open door leading between the kitchen and the dining room where my mom is currently hunched over a newspaper, home from work.
“How are you still awake?” Dad asks. “I’ll probably be asleep within ten minutes. I’m too old for renovations.”
“Actually, I kind of need a favor.” Right away, I hear newsprint shuffle behind me.
There’s a chance I’ll get lucky and it was just Mom turning the page, but if there’s any chance at all, she’s listening in and heard what I just said. I more than likely have her undivided attention. It’s now or never.
“I have to go out for a few minutes.”
“Oh?” Dad looks down at his watch, bleary-eyed. “It’s already after ten. You’ll be home by curfew?”
“Well, no. Probably not.”
“Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow,” Mom calls from the dining room.
Well, there goes that pipe dream. So here goes nothing.
“Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you guys for a few minutes,” I say, locking eyes with my dad.
Right away, the tired stoop disappears from his posture. I have his full attention. It’s only a matter of seconds before Mom is right beside him. When there’s something going on, there’s nowhere my mother would rather be than right there in the middle of it.
My heart is hammering inside my body so loudly I can barely hear myself think. I shouldn’t be as nervous as I am. We had the big conversations years ago, and while they were surprised, any leftover weirdness is long gone.
“Well, there’s a girl...” I start with a deep breath. Soon, I’m spilling my heart onto the kitchen tiles.
I speed-walk down my street and all the way to the main stretch of shops people consider downtown Fairview, not that there's much here. It's a world away from downtown Richmond, but it’s already way more my speed. I like the quiet. I also like places with lawns and flowers, and I like the idea of actually knowing your neighbors.
By the time I get there, the diner is the only building still flashing an open sign on Pine Street. The bright contrast of the lights from inside against the fresh darkness of a summer night illuminates an older man sitting at a table by the front window, eating a baked potato as he scrolls through his phone. I can't see anyone else yet, but I know Rosie's inside.
I'm already out so much later than I should be, so I don't offer myself any chance to linger outside the door, letting my nerves eat away at me. I step inside the familiar building, breathing in the smell of scented candles and maple syrup. I've been inside a few times after school with friends from class or with my sisters, and it doesn't look all that different at night besides quite a few empty tables.
In one continuous mural, the wall is colored with hand-painted caricatures of famous people named Elizabeth, both real and fictional. For once, my eyes don't wander to the artwork, trying to see how many people I recognize.
Right away, they find Rosie.
She's sitting alone at a small table in the back of the building, just past the door that leads to the kitchen. Her black hair has been pulled up in a high ponytail, a style I'm not sure I've seen her wear before. It reveals everything from her brown eyes to the scar that cuts through her left eyebrow.
She's beautiful.
Rosie looks up as soon as I step toward her, bypassing the sign telling me I should wait to be seated. There's no sign of her mom yet, but I can't imagine they'd have more than one person waiting on tables at this time of night, so it's probably a safe bet that she'll appear soon. I hope she doesn’t come too soon. I want at least a few seconds alone with her daughter before I have to do my first ever meet-the-parents moment.
"I am so, so sorry," I say as soon as I reach Rosie's table, bracing my hands against the empty chair across from her. "Today got all messed up. My dad asked me for help with something. It's a long story. I know I should have told him no so I could come to dinner with you, I just—"
My sentence cuts off abruptly. I'm not even sure where I was going with that. My plan was probably just to ramble until I annoyed her into forgiving me.
Rosie blinks and my heart stops. Shortly after, her mouth quirks up at the corner. "You're here," she says. "That's what matters."
I sit down and grab Rosie's hand under the table. "Are you okay? How did it go?"
She squeezes my hand, but just as Rosie's lips part to hopefully give me a play-by-play, her eyes flick to something behind me, and her fingers retreat from mine.
"Mom," she says, "I want you to meet someone."
I take long enough to turn that I get to see a smile on Rosie's face, a full one this time, before I make myself do the same.
A gray-haired woman with a round figure and eyes that look just like Rosie's stops to join us. She's taller than my mom but around the same age, wearing a blue apron with a cartoon cow pattern. I've seen her here a few times before. I think she's even taken my order for lunch once, but we've never really had a conversation.
"I'm Reilly. It's nice to meet you," I say, putting my hand out to shake hers. "I love your apron."
"Call me Lizzie, and thank you! It's one of my favorites," she answers, beaming before she takes my hand in hers. "I'm glad you could make it tonight. Can I get you anything?"
I shake my head right away, not wanting her to go through any trouble for me. "I'm okay, and I'm sorry I'm so late. My parents are renovating the attic and my dad recruited me last minute to empty the entire floor in one night."
Lizzie chuckles, surprising me. "That sounds just like Ian."
"I forgot you used to know my parents, from before." I vaguely remember Reagan telling me about her first trip to the diner, before she was really friends with Rosie or anyone else. Lizzie had mentioned being friends with my parents before they moved away, that she had known my mom for a long time. Then my sisters and I from when we were babies.
"What?" Rosie says, her voice high. "You mean you haven't seen the picture of me with you guys when we could all barely sit up on our own? How is this possible?"
Shaking my head, I do my best to keep my smile light as I try and figure out how to answer. "No. Do my parents have a copy?" Wow. I've basically known Rosie for my whole life and I didn't even realize it. Not that it changes anything, but still, it makes all of this feel just a little bit like fate.
"They should have one," Lizzie answers. "Or at least they used to."
"I probably carried it downstairs from the attic today in some box or another without realizing," I joke, though I doubt that it's actually true.
Lizzie's shift is close to over when she sits down with us, but my time with her and her daughter flies by as we chat about everything and nothing at once. The conversation only pauses when she goes to give the diner's la
st customer his bill, saying goodnight to the cook as he leaves. Rosie and I help wipe down the tables, enjoying a few leftover French fries before, too soon, the night is over.
"I'm going to start home," Rosie's mom says as she locks the door to the diner behind her. "Rose, I expect to see you right behind me... in five minutes or so."
Lizzie doesn't so much as look back at the two of us before taking off down the street, leaving Rosie and I alone together after the most unexpectedly crazy day.
"I think that went well," I say as Rosie stares after her mom, mostly hoping to prompt her to agree with me. "Your mom is really nice."
"She's really good with people," Rosie answers, still not looking at me. "It's something the two of you have in common."
What am I supposed to read into that? Does that mean she doesn't actually like me but is she that nice with everyone? Did I screw this up somehow?
Resisting the urge to tug on Rosie's hand and ask her to give me a play-by-play of how she thinks tonight went, I stare down Pine Street at the streetlights. Rosie probably needs her space. So, I can wait. Even if it's slowly driving me insane.
A silence stretches between Rosie and me for nearly a minute. I'm all too aware that Rosie was only given five of them to spend with me before she has to get home. All of this extra time together tonight has already been a stroke of good luck from the universe, and I'm not willing to push things any farther.
We only have four minutes to go, so if Rosie's upset about something, I can't just leave it like that and hope everything will be okay in the morning. If she really does need more space, I'm going to have to trust that she'll tell me.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She turns and looks at me, her hair shining red under the light of the closed sign behind her. "It's been a really weird day."
"You two are okay? She was alright with everything?" My fingers itch beside me, wanting to reach for her.
"She was great. I was pretty sure she would be. All I really said was that I had a crush on someone I hadn't been expecting. On you, and that I don't really know what it means, but that I want to be with you. She told me it was okay not to have all the answers yet and that if I'm happy, she's happy." Rosie smiles.
