Page 21 of Regretting Youu

“It’s probably the remote,” Dad says.

“Or the operator,” I say, taking the remote from my mother. She always hits the wrong button and can’t remember which one to press to get her back to her show. I hit all the buttons and nothing works, so I power everything off.

Aunt Jenny walks into the house as I’m attempting to power the television back on for my mother. “Knock, knock,” she says, swinging open the door. Dad helps her with Elijah’s car seat and an armful of stuff. I power the television back on, but it doesn’t do anything.

“I think it’s broken.”

“Oh, God,” my mother says, as if the idea of being home all day with an infant and no television is a nightmare of an existence.

Aunt Jenny hands my mother Elijah’s diaper bag. “You guys still have cable? No one has cable anymore.”

There’s only a year of age difference between Aunt Jenny and my mom, but sometimes it feels as though my mother is the parent of both of us.

“We try to tell her, but she insists on keeping it,” I say.

“I don’t want to watch my shows on an iPad,” my mother says in defense.

“We get Netflix on our television,” my father says. “You can still watch it on the television.”

“Bravo isn’t on Netflix,” my mother responds. “We’re keeping the cable.”

This conversation is making my head hurt, so I take Elijah out of his car seat to get a minute in with him before I have to leave for school.

I was so excited when I found out Aunt Jenny was pregnant. I always wanted a sibling, but Mom and Dad never wanted more kids after they had me. He’s as close as I’ll ever get to a brother, so I want to be familiar to him. I want him to like me more than anyone else.

“Let me hold him,” my father says, taking Elijah from me. I like how much my dad likes his nephew. Kind of makes me wish he and Mom would have another one. It’s not too late. She’s only thirty-four. I should have written it down again on her birthday board last night.

Aunt Jenny hands my mother a list of written instructions. “Here’s his feeding times. And how to heat the breast milk. And I know you have my cell phone number, but I wrote it down again in case your phone dies. I wrote Jonah’s number down too.”

“I’ve raised a human before,” my mother says.

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago,” Aunt Jenny says. “They might have changed since then.” She walks over to my father and gives Elijah a kiss on the head. “Bye, sweetie. Mommy loves you.”

Aunt Jenny starts to leave, so I grab my backpack in a hurry because there’s something I need to discuss with her. I follow her out the front door, but she doesn’t realize I’m behind her until she’s almost to her car.

“Miller unfollowed me on Instagram last night.”

She turns around, startled by my sudden presence. “Already?” She opens her car door and hangs on to it. “Did you say something that made him angry?”

“No, we haven’t spoken since I left his house. I didn’t post anything. I didn’t even comment on any of his pictures. I just don’t get it. Why follow me and then unfollow me hours later?”

“Social media is so confusing.”

“So are guys.”

“Not as confusing as we are,” she says. She tilts her head, eyeing me. “Do you like him?”

I can’t lie to her. “I don’t know. I try not to, but he’s so different from all the other guys at my school. He goes out of his way to ignore me, and he’s always eating suckers. And his relationship with his grandpa is adorably weird.”

“So . . . you like him because he ignores you, eats suckers, and has a weird grandpa?” Aunt Jenny makes a concerned face. “That’s . . . those are weird reasons, Clara.”

I shrug. “I mean, he’s cute too. And apparently, he wants to go to college as a film major. We have that in common.”

“That helps. But I mean, it sounds like you barely know him. I wouldn’t take the unfollow too personal.”

“I know.” I groan and fold my arms over my chest. “Attraction is so stupid. And knowing he unfollowed me already put me in a shit mood, and it’s only seven in the morning.”

“Maybe his girlfriend saw the follow and didn’t like it,” Aunt Jenny suggests.