by Ally B
“Lori!” I hear Amy shout from the kitchen.
“Good catching up, we’ll have to talk in a bit,” she says, basically running toward the kitchen to do whatever her older sister wants, as usual.
I stand next to my dad as he continues his conversation with Greg, not knowing exactly what to do.
I jump as I feel someone’s hand, but I let out a breath of relief as Ava pulls me toward the basement.
“I’m saving you,” she says, flipping on the light and closing the door behind us.
When we reach the end of the stairs to the basement, I’m relieved to see the kids playing.
The basement is fully finished, complete with neon signs advertising various beer companies and a full bar.
Ava sits on one of the cherry-red bar stools, and I sit next to her.
“When did they do all of this?” I ask.
“A few years ago,” she says, staring down at her phone screen, looking up briefly to tell me, “it’s best to just hide down here during these things.”
“I remember,” I say, pulling out my phone and opening a Snapchat from Violet.
Vi
You better send something to Graham. - Vi
I open my conversation with him, trying to think of something cute or flirty or witty to say.
Graham
Was I right about Violet ending up in the pool? - Phoebe
“He was asking about you after you left,” Ava speaks up, “Graham.”
“What was he asking?”
“Just why you left and stuff. It pissed Gabby off.” A smile makes its way onto her lips as she continues scrolling.
“And a pissed off Gabby makes you happy because? Isn’t she your best friend?”
“Yeah, but it’s funny when she doesn’t get what she wants.” She looks up from her phone. “And he’s hot, so that’s helpful.”
“Why haven’t you gone after him then?” I ask.
“Everyone sucks. Boys, girls, I’m done with them until at least college. And he seems interested in you. I wouldn’t want to get involved.” She resumes her scrolling.
“So, what’s happened around here? Catch me up?” I ask her.
“Well, Lola was born, and right now, she hates everyone. Uncle Joe and Aunt Amber almost split up, but then they didn’t. Ummm…” She pauses for a moment to think. “Oh! Grandpa called Aunt Amber a liberal whore, so now we don’t talk about politics. And I think that’s it.”
“Nice,” I tell her, holding back a laugh. “I thought my mom and I were the only liberal whores?”
“Turns out you had a secret ally all this time,” she jokes.
My phone buzzes against the counter, and I quickly pick it up, reading the message from Graham.
Graham
About 5 mins after u left, u win. - Graham
Told you! - Phoebe
“So, what did I miss last night?”
“Violet flipped shit on Stoker because he was the one who changed her playlist, then she and Gabby ended up in the pool, then Gabby got pissed because Graham flat out rejected her, then everyone ended up in the pool.” She stops and thinks for a second. “I was pretty sure people were going to end up with hypothermia, but it was a lot of fun.”
“Hypothermia’s worth it sometimes.” I shrug jokingly.
“Do you want a drink?” She asks, walking behind the bar and opening the stainless-steel refrigerator.
“Water?” I ask her.
“I can do a Capri-Sun?” She sounds amused, “apparently, the only things that exist are Bud Light and Fruit punch, so…”
“A Capri-Sun would be great.” I laugh.
She closes the door, sliding me a juice-pouch across the counter.
Graham
Never should’ve doubted it. - Graham
What can I say? I know Violet. - Phoebe
WYD tonight? - Graham
Working :( - Phoebe
Tomorrow too? - Graham
12-6 - Phoebe
Wanna grab breakfast? - Graham
I’d love to. - Phoebe
Any ideas on location? - Graham
Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up? - Phoebe
U a big fan of surprises? - Graham
Not when I’m on the receiving end - Phoebe
614 Washington Street. See you at 9:00? - Graham
See you then. :) - Phoebe
“Did you just set up a date with Graham?” Ava asks from her seat, eyebrows raised.
“I wouldn’t call it a date. We’re hanging out?”
“Totally a date,” she says.
“We’re hanging out,” I correct her.
I’m not dating Graham Neilson. We’re just hanging out.
“Kids! Food!” Amy shouts from the door at the top of the stairs.
Ava and I wait for the little kids to run up the stairs before joining them.
My father is talking to his brother, Joe, at the table over their plates of food. He doesn’t seem too uncomfortable, so I leave him alone and follow Ava to get a plate.
I politely put a little bit of everything on my plate, knowing the odds of me eating anything that didn’t come out of a package are slim as I stare at Amy and Lori’s burnt food on my plate.
I sit at the kid’s table with Ava, both of us pushing food around our plates.
“These poor children.” Ava refers to our cousins, shaking her head as she looks at them and then at the food on her plate.
I chose to take a bite of a cracker rather than speak about the food and accidentally insult something her mom might’ve made.
“My mom always insists on cooking for these things. I think she feels like she has something to prove. But she never cooks at home. It’s either dad or takeout,” she says, “feel free to talk shit about her food now.”
I laugh. “I didn’t want to say anything, but…”
“Yeah, it’s terrible. Aunt Lori is awful, too. I didn’t know such a thing could be genetic.”
“It definitely is.” I refer to my father’s lack of cooking skills.
“Thanks for waking me up, Lori,” my grandfather grumbles as he enters the kitchen, basically pushing Greg out of his chair and claiming his seat as his own.
“Sorry, Dad, I just didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s my God-damn birthday party. The least you could’ve done is woke me up when you came into my house,” he says as Lori sets a plate down in front of him.
“Good to see you, Thomas,” he says. “You look like shit.”
My father is visibly uncomfortable, “Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m just messin’ with ya. You look great for a guy who just got out of prison.” His laugh is dry and lasts a little too long. Everyone in the room is visibly uncomfortable as Joe stands.
“I think we should have cake,” he says.
“I just got my food,” my grandfather grumbles.
“The kids want cake, right?” Joe asks.
“Cake!” Lola shouts in her adorable baby voice.
The adults laugh nervously as aunt Lori picks her up. “Well, we can’t say no to that, can we?”
“Get the kid some cake,” my grandfather says, taking a bite of some potato dish Amy made that’s somehow both over and undercooked.
Lori quickly removes the cake from its grocery store bakery box and shoves a candle into it before rushing it to my grandfather.
Happy birthday is sung in a million different keys, and everyone watches awkwardly as my grandfather struggles to blow out his candle.
Lori and Greg cut and hand out pieces of the cake, which Ava and I gladly accept.
I eat my cake silently as the adults talk amongst themselves, and Ava stares at her phone screen.
“How’s the job search?” My grandfather asks my father.
“Just trying to get my feet under me right now,” he answers, staring at his blue-frosting-covered paper plate.
“Should probably get on that, don’t you think?” He asks, shoveling food into his mouth.
/> “Give him a break,” I mutter.
“What was that?” He turns to me, obviously angry.
“Give him a break,” I repeat, not bothering to look up from my plate.
“He almost killed you because he couldn’t hold off on his fifth scotch of the night. Maybe you’re giving him too many breaks. Just like your mother,” he spits.
I take a deep breath before standing. “I’ll see you Monday, Ava,” I tell her as I grab my paper plate, throwing it in the garbage can next to the door.
“Don’t go…” My aunt Lori says as I pull my lanyard out of my pocket.
“I am just like my mother, and I’m glad I take after that side of the family,” I say, opening the front door. “Nice catching up. Let’s do it again when you start inviting me to things again in another four years.”
My father follows me out of the house and to my car, and as he stares at the ground as I drive back toward his apartment, I can’t help but feel like the parent.
“Joe called me professor, too.” He finally speaks up when we’re almost back to his place, breaking the silence.
“The blazer was a bit much. But it’s you.”
“Not anymore.” He shakes his head.
“Are there any positions open?” I refer to the countless colleges and universities in the area. He was a Latin professor at a university teaching mostly classes in Greek and Roman mythology before the accident, so getting a job in his old niche would be difficult.
“I haven’t really looked, I don’t think anyone would hire me,” he confesses.
“It wouldn’t hurt to go in for an interview if you found a position,” I tell him, turning onto his street.
“I guess it’s time to try and remember my LinkedIn password.” He forces a chuckle as I pull up in front of his place.
“Thanks for coming, kiddo,” he says as he unbuckles.
“No problem. See you soon.” I promise, not knowing exactly when soon will be.
“See you soon,” he says, looking at me for a minute like he’s trying to continue the conversation before exiting the car and waving as he walks up the steps to his apartment.
I watch him enter before pulling away.
On the drive to work, I almost regret what I said. For years all I wanted was my dad’s side of the family to allow us back in. I made sure to be super nice to Ava at school and comment on every Facebook post, but it wasn’t enough.
And when they finally let me back in, I blow it.
I make it to work at 2:55, park next to Kat’s Prius, open my console, grab some Motrin, and pop two before grabbing my keys, phone, and bag, and hurry inside.
“Took you long enough,” she huffs as I grab my name-tag from the box next to the cash register.
“I’m five minutes early!” I defend.
“You’re usually fifteen minutes early. I thought you like died or something,” she says, pouring kernels into the popcorn machine.
“I’m stealing this.” I hold up a bag of fruit snacks, placing a dollar in the cash register.
“It’s not stealing if you pay for it,” she sing-songs as I exit the booth, unlocking the main theater with my keys and closing the door behind me.
I turn on the sound system before hooking the microphone to the collar of my shirt and the pack to my waistband.
I walk back out to Kat quickly, standing to the side of the booth next to a family buying tickets.
“I forgot the schedule.” I give her my best sorry-to-interrupt-but-give-me-the-paper smile.
She hands me the paper with an extremely passive-aggressive smile, trying to keep her customer service face on while being pissed off.
I run into the theatre, walking to the front and sitting down on the stool as a few people wander in. I’m supposed to give a show at 4:30, so I wait until then to speak. A mom and her young kids stare at the sky, and an older couple talks quietly in the back.
At 4:30, Jerry operates the dome as I lead our regular Saturday afternoon guests and a few new groups through what they’re seeing.
The rest of the night is the same. Slow, as usual. Saturdays aren’t ever busy anyway. But what is time when you’re looking at the stars?
When I make it home at 9:30, my mom is sitting on the couch, popcorn at the ready, with ‘Star Wars the Phantom Menace’ queued up on the TV.
My mom has always loved the Star Wars movies. They’d helped her learn English when she moved to the U.S. as a little kid. She was fascinated by the idea of the galaxy far far away, and sometimes when she speaks, she sounds kind of like Carrie Fisher with a hint of an accent.
She raised me on the prequels, which I’ll always go to bat for, even when Max says they’re the worst movies he’s ever seen.
“Hey, Mom?” I speak up.
“What’s up, honey?” She asks, turning her attention away from the screen.
“I just wanted to ask if it was okay if I go to breakfast with a friend tomorrow?”
“Of course. Do I know this friend?” She raises an eyebrow.
“No, he’s new. Graham Neilson.” I tell her.
“A new kid in Emerson? It’s a miracle,” she jokes, “is he cute?”
“Kind of.” I shrug, hoping to end the conversation.
On our respective sides of the couch, Mom and I watch my first love, little Anakin Skywalker, which brings Graham to mind.
I hold my hand over my heart and silently send a message through the universe to assure Little Annie, that he will never, ever, be replaced.
I pull out my phone halfway through the movie, texting Violet.
Vi
Guess who I’m going to breakfast with tomorrow? - Phoebe
You’re kidding! - Vi
When did he ask you? - Vi
Where are you going? - Vi
You better be going to Quinn’s! - Vi
I mentally thank her for choosing Quinn’s. It had completely slipped my mind. Quinn’s is a cute little café in the center of town. It’s typically full of kids studying, but it’ll be a ghost town on a Sunday morning.
Vi
He asked earlier, and yes to Quinn’s. - Phoebe
I TOLD YOUUUUUUUUU - Vi
What are you wearing? - Vi
I have no clue??? - Vi
Wear your ironic friends shirt - Vi
JK umm - Vi
Wear that tight black cropped tee with mom jeans - Vi
IDK what for shoes - Vi
Probably just white air force ones, right? - Vi
White air forces. - Vi
Gold jewelry - Vi
Yes ma’am - Phoebe
Oh and that little black purse. - Vi
Thanks for the outfit advice - Phoebe
It’s what I live for - Vi
U better keep me updated bc i’m living vicariously through this relationship - Vi
Who else would I ask for advice??? - Phoebe
Ur other boyfriend - Vi
But that’s why I’m the best. - Vi
Stupid boys don’t get opinions - Vi
That’s when it dawns on me that I have to tell Max, and for some reason, I don’t want to.
Crater
The Cup
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the dull ache throughout my entire body. It’s not as bad as yesterday, but I still pop a few of the painkillers from my nightstand in my mouth before climbing out of bed.
My shower is swift and a bit too cold, but I quickly hop out and dry my hair with a T-shirt before blow-drying it with a diffuser on the ends, knowing Violet would be proud that I’m not just letting it air-dry.
Getting my contacts into my eyes is always a struggle, but I manage a little quicker than usual.
I scrunch up my loose curls with some hair oil before applying my regular makeup a little more carefully than usual.
I tap a champagne-colored highlighter into the inner corner of my eyes to match my silver hoop earrings and dainty necklace with a star on it, a birthday gift from Max that Mia and Camila definitely picke
d out.
I pull on a tight black T-shirt and a pair of mom jeans. It takes me a while to find matching socks, but I manage to find two black ones that look similar enough before pulling on my pair of scuffed Nike Air Force Ones.
I say a quick good morning to my mom, who’s sipping tea at the table, before sending a text to Graham.
Graham
On my way. - Phoebe
I grab my wallet and keys off of the kitchen table and ask Mom, “I’ll see you before work?”
“See you then. Have fun,” she says with a wink.
I roll my eyes before opening the door. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” she says as I close the door behind me.
I have to put Graham’s address into the GPS on my phone. I know where Washington Street is, but none of the houses have their numbers on them.
My GPS tells me I’ve arrived at my destination when I reach the largest house on the street.
Naturally.
I pull into the driveway behind Graham’s Jeep before putting my car in park and hoping that staring at my phone will help me decide whether I should knock on the door or just text him. That’s when he knocks on my window, causing me to jump. I unlock the car, and he climbs into the passenger seat, a smirk on his lips as he buckles his seatbelt.
“Where are we headed?” He asks.
“It’s a surprise, remember?” I ask as I carefully back out of his driveway.
“It’s not like I would know what it is anyway,” he chuckles.
“You have a point.” I pause, making a left turn. “It’s called Quinn’s. It’s super cute,” I tell him, turning onto Main Street.
“Good coffee?” He asks.
“The best in town,” I repeat what Violet always says, knowing that I have absolutely no qualifications to be a coffee critic.
“Better than the Dunkin’ next to the school?” He asks, jokingly.
“I would say yes?” I ask-ish.
“You don’t sound too convincing.”
“Honestly, not a big coffee connoisseur.”
He laughs as I continue driving.
I mentally curse parallel parking as I park against the curb next to Quinn’s.
