twenty-two
GRANT
When we walk outof the steel elevator and into Keller’s open-air concept apartment, I have Lily’s hand in a death grip. I apologized to her and loosened my hold on the trip up. Subconsciously, my grasp keeps tightening, clutching onto her like a lifeline.
Tonight consists of firsts. The first time I don’t expect to sit by myself in silence, while everyone around me converses. It’s the first time I’m bringing a partner around my relatives. Both those firsts linger in my head when one of Keller’s employees takes our sweaters and Liliana gives me a confused glance.
Neither of them is the reason I cling onto Lily. What magnetizes me to her so desperately is the fact that, for once, I have someone here on my side, that understands and truly knows me.
For the first time, I’m not alone.
Another one of my father’s employees is busy aligning the mismatched navy and bronze dishware, and I realize that on the drive home, I can rant about Keller’s horrible color choices tosomeone. It's a mundane fantasy to have. And yet, it’s what I look forward to the most.
Surprisingly, aside from the employees and the relatives I knew were going to be here, it’s empty. The business partners my father mentioned in the McCarthy group chat are nowhere to be seen. I’m as thankful as I can be in this situation. At least I know how to navigate these people for a few hours.
Billie is the first to notice our presence in the dining room area. She’s wearing a pink, bedazzled BIRTHDAY GIRL sash perfectly matched to her sequined cocktail dress. It’s a visual reminder that my white collared shirt and beige cargo pants emphasizes our gap, again, but Liliana in her cotton spring dress makes me feel less of an outlier.
“There you are!” Billie runs up to us, red bottomed shoes clacking with her steps.
Liliana looks at me, confused, and I shrug. I told her they were going to dress formally. She thought I was exaggerating.
“Here we are.” The hand that isn’t wrapped around Liliana’s is shoved deep in my pocket, twitching. Am I supposed to hug Billie? Is she expecting me to? We’ve never greeted each other that way, but it is her birthday. I take too long to decide.
“Happy birthday.” Lily breaks the awkward silence and smiles. She retrieves a white envelope from her purse, my half-sister’s name scribbled on the front in cursive. “From us.”
The card passes between them, and inwardly I cringe. One of the napkins here must cost more than the gift card we decided on together, but she insisted we couldn’t show up empty handed.
I wait for Billie to grimace or clumsily mutter a “thank you” she doesn’t actually mean.
She examines the card, twists it back and forth in her hands like she’s never seen one before. Locke is walking towards us, cleanly pressed suit being another symbol of our gap.
A strange guilt builds in my chest.
“Sorry it’s not a better present.”
“Don’t be sorry!” Billie shakes her head and presses the envelope to her chest. “I love it! Did you write a note?”
“You love it?”
“We did.” Lily answers, my question ignored. She squeezes my hand. “We both did. We hope you like it.”
“I love it, really.” It’s the calmest I’ve ever heard her speak. Her voice is small, like she doesn’t want anyone other than us to hear her. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you so much.”
The best gift she’s ever gotten? I search her face for any smirk, or a sign she’s biting her tongue to keep from laughing. It must be a joke. With our father’s money, she must have been given the world and then some. No stone unturned if she asked.
Billie’s expression doesn’t shift. She holds that envelope to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world to her, and bounces her gaze between us, full of gratitude.
“You got a card?”
Locke made it across the room, Keller gone to who knows where and letting him out of the conversation they were held up in. He fixes his glasses and points a look at Billie’s gift.
“Yes!” She jumps, holding it out and showing it off. “Can you believe it? Grant and Liliana got it for me!”
Locke grunts and moves his glasses out of, and back into place.
Billie’s abundance of energy starts flowing back, and she smacks Locke across his shoulder. “You didn’t get me shit.”
He doesn’t seem phased. Just staring at her with a blank face and leveled tone. “What did you get me for my birthday?”
