God. Someone please put me out of my misery.
The humiliation is real.
“Huh?” She nudges me with her shoulder. “Have you?”
“Mom.”
I’m about to tell her how inappropriate she is and that she should never, under any circumstances, use the expression “tapped that” again when my father takes her by the hand and says, “Let’s get home. I’m pooped.”
Now see there. That’s the kind of thing a geriatric relative is supposed to say. “Pooped” is what is expected. “Have you tapped that?” is not.
Chapter Five
Sunday Funday
“You really need to buy a place of your own, Colette.”
These words are courtesy of my oldest sister, Candy. We’re almost eighteen years apart, and because of that, she seems to feel the need to take on the role of advice-giver. To me. Not my two other sisters. It’s a role she relishes. At least that’s how it seems to me. I’ve heard this speech before––many times. It’s the one about me needing to buy a house rather than rent.
Maybe it’s because she’s divorced and her children are grown and have moved halfway across the country that she’s fixated on me. She’s got a lot of extra time on her hands, which isn’t good for me.
I’m used to it. It’s just, sometimes I wish they wouldn’t tag team me like this. You know, all three of them talking at me at once. It feels more like an attack. Take this time, for example. Collectively, they choose things that they feel need to change about me, and they attack. It’s Candy’s turn to tell me I should move out of my tiny rental into something of my own.
“You’re losing money. You could be gaining equity on a place. Instead, you’re paying someone else to earn equity. Also, we can’t keep coming to your tiny house. There’s not enough room for us here.”
See? I told Mom my place was too small, but would she listen?
“That’s why I’ve decided, the next time it’s your turn to host, we’ll just do it at my place.” Candy says this like she’s doing me and the entire Munsel clan a huge favor.
Candy to the rescue.
I’m not sure why her statement bothers me so much. It’s the same thing I told Mom. But because it’s Candy and that tone of hers … well, it puts me on the defensive. The truth is, while my place is small, I’ve made it work today. Everyone is perfectly fine in my backyard.
Luckily… Wait, is it lucky that Connie shifts the narrative to my love life?
No.
“Colette, there’s a really nice guy at my office…”
Oh, here we go.
“He’s cute, you know, in an earthy kind of way.”
What the hell does that even mean?Earthy?Does he roll around in the dirt on his lunch break? Whatever she means, no, I’m not into “earthy” guys.
Luckily, the weather is warm, and the sun is shining. It was a risk to have something like this in April, since it ordinarily rains a lot in the Midwest. Thankfully, it worked out. My barbeque has been cleaned, and I made sure I had a full tank of propane so Dad can ruin the burgers and hotdogs I’ve prepared.
I’ve just opened my fridge to retrieve the condiments when I hear, “So…” I hold my breath, waiting for whatever Carla’s got on her mind. She surprises me. “Mom tells me you’ve got a hot-as-fuck new neighbor.”
I glance over my shoulder and raise one brow. “Hot as fuck?”
“Her words.”
Of course they were her words.
“I wouldn’t know.” God. I’m such a liar. And if she ever gets a glimpse of Sam Griffin, she’s going to know I’m full of shit.
“You’re full of shit.” Carla scoffs. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
