“I wish I had lived on my own,” she says, which is her way of threading her own needle. We don’t actually argue; we just passive-aggressively embroider at each other. “I probably would’ve made some different choices.” She takes a step back and squints at me again. “That doesn’t mean I regret having you. Obviously.” There’s a final nod of approval, then she folds me into an unexpected hug. “I’m in a great place in my life now. And who knows? I still have lots of opportunities to try new things.” There’s a look on her face I can’t decipher.
“This dress is pretty good,” I say.
“I think so, too,” she agrees, keeping me in the embrace. “You look beautiful.”
13
“You have your keys today?”
Nick is about to lock his door as I’m letting myself back into Mom’s place after a “productive” afternoon at the pool.
“Lesson learned,” I reply, fumbling with the lock. It’s been finicky since I attacked it with the bobby pin.
“Actually,” he says, “I have something for you inside. Can I grab it? Do you have a minute?”
I have nothing but time.
He disappears into his apartment. I wait in the hall, wondering how it would feel to run into Nick and Shawna coming back to his place from a date, while I’m standing in front of my mom’s door, in the giant T-shirt I use as a cover-up, struggling with the lock.
Nick’s door swings open and he walks toward me, slightly breathless, with a sheet of paper in his hand.
“Kira drew this,” he says, handing me a marker drawing of what appears to be a person with big eyes (or maybe those are glasses), a black bob, and a giant gray-and-white fluffy tail. “I think it’s you as a furry.”
When I take my glasses off to get a better look, I’m impressed. She’s accurately translated some of my key attributes in a way that’s recognizable as me. It’s a variant of the way I draw myself. A Lydia Deetz vibe.
Nick leans in slightly so we can both examineit.
“She’s starting to develop a style,” I tell him. “Especially the eyes. They’re very expressive.”
I hold out the drawing to him, but he shakes his head. “Keep it. I mean, I’m not positive it’s you, but it’s the only character she’s ever drawn wearing all black.”
“I’m not really giving her much of a palette to work with,” I say. “But I would love to hang it up; thank you.” I start to open the apartment door.
“Actually…I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep you, but do you have one more minute?”
“I have nearly unlimited minutes,” I say. “Until work.”
“I’m working tonight, too.”
“The rum punch isn’t gonna stir itself.”
“Right,” he says. “Your mom told me about the tiki place. I drive by there every day on my way home, but I’ve never been.”
“Well, anytime you want a flaming cocktail, I’m your girl.”
There’s a slightly awkward moment until he remembers why we’re still standing in the hall. “So, Kira loves reading graphic novels and I was thinking it could be fun for her to try some comic books. If you have any suggestions for something a nine-year-old girl would enjoy, I can look for them—”
“I have some stuff you can borrow, if you want to come inside. I can pull a few things.”
“Nothing valuable, though. Kira has sticky fingers. Literally.”
“Not everything in those boxes is actually worth money.” I finally extract my key from the apartment door. “It’s just a matter of sorting through all of it and looking up values and then selling things, which my dad hasn’t done in, like, fifteen years. Come on in.”
Mom and Perry sit on the couch, intertwined in a way that makes me think they were making out a second ago. They’re watching some prestige drama I don’t recognize. It appears we’ve entered right on the precipice of an explicit sex scene.
“Nick!” Mom sits up, at full attention, hitting pause. “How are you?”
“Maybe let’s not pause it there?” Perry says, reaching for the remote.
