“Maggie’s definitely judging me.”
“Me?” I say. “Judge my older sister? Never.” Even as I’m saying it, I have no idea if I’m joking or not. The thing is, Idon’tconsciously judge Vivian that much; I’m too busy comparing myself to her and feeling inferior. If anything, I’m always feeling like Mom and Dad and Vivian are judgingme.
“Speaking of judging,” Dad says, “can I ask you girls a question?”
Vivian and I exchange a look. We know what’s coming.
“Is it okay if we say no?” Vivian asks.
“Unfortunately not.” Dad grins as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m wondering what you make of this wedding situation. With Mom.”
“‘This wedding situation’?” I say. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“What else would I call it?”
“Maybe just ‘Mom getting married’?”
“Fine,” Dad says. “What do you—”
“I think it’s really great,” Vivian says, punctuating her thought with a sip of water. “Mom seems happy. So.”
Vivian’s always been firmly Team Mom when it comes to our parents’ relationship, whereas I’m more wishy-washy, siding with both of them at different times. Maybe it’s because I was eleven when they divorced, and Vivian was fifteen, so she understood better the nuances of what was happening. Or maybe it’s because I know my parents will love Vivian no matter what she says or what stance she takes, and I don’t feel like I have the same luxury. Like, of course they won’t stop loving me, but they get annoyed by things I say in ways they don’t with Vivian.
Or maybe that’s in my head. I don’t even know.
“Yeah,” I say, with less enthusiasm than Vivian. “Mom does seem happy.”
“Wow, okay,” Dad says, flipping up his eyebrows as he takes another sip of coffee. “I knew she and Ron were... enjoying each other.”
“Ew, Dad,” Vivian says.
“It just didn’t even occur to me that they might get married.”
“A lot of things don’t occur to you, Dad,” Vivian says as she pats his arm.
“Ouch.” He rubs the spot Vivian touched as if she’s left burn marks.
“It’s okay to feel weird about it,” I say. “I definitely do.”
“Apparently not weird enough to stop you from agreeing to be the entertainment, though,” Vivian says, which I find supremely annoying.
“The entertainment?” Dad asks. “What do you mean? At the wedding?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say as my insides shrivel up into a ball. “My band is just gonna play some songs.”
“Oh geez, wow, that’s...” Dad is thrown. Maybe even a little hurt. I wish Vivian had kept her mouth shut. “That’s great, Mags. Wow.”
I shrug, looking toward the entrance to the kitchen.SAVE US, DOREEN.
“Hey, as long as you promise to one day play my wedding too,” Dad says, trying to smile but unable to keep the sadness out of his voice.
“Of course, Dad.”
“Not that that’s happening any time soon,” he adds, staring at his folded napkin as if the meaning of life is embedded somewhere inside.
“Are you still seeing...?” Vivian leaves the question hanging because I’m sure she can’t remember who Dad was last seeing. It is hard to keep track.
“Nadia. No. That ended. It’s a long story.”
