Paisley and I share a look, a playful smile running across her lips.
Sitting back, I prepare myself to hear the story. “Paisley may have mentioned you kissed Bob Barker.”
“There I was,” Lausanne launches into her narrative. “In Los Angeles visiting a friend. We were invited to the studio taping of The Price Is Right. This was in the 80s, so the show had been on-air for a while by then. What I mean to say is that the precedent to kiss him on the cheek had already been set.” She grins at her memory. “I could not believe it when my name was called to come on down. And then I guessed the closest price for a terribly ugly armoire, and suddenly he was inviting me onstage! I knew it would be the only moment in my life when I’d be on TV, and in the presence of Bob Barker at the same time, so I went for it.” She laughs, eyes sparkling.
Paisley sighs. “I love that story.”
“My mom will, too. She watched that show when I was a kid.”
Lausanne lifts one shoulder and does a playful little shimmy. “Alright, granddaughter of mine,” Lausanne narrows her gaze at Paisley. “Tell me the truth.”
Paisley looks at me in alarm, but Lausanne follows it up with, “Is it weird that your sister is marrying your ex?”
Paisley softly chuckles. “Yeah.” She drops her feet to the floor and rocks back in her chair. For a moment there is only the reliable sound of the waves kissing the shore, then she says, “I want Sienna to be happy, and Shane, too.” She shrugs, glancing at me with a look I can’t decipher. “It would have been nice if Sienna had thought of my feelings,” she admits.
Lausanne shakes her head back and forth. “I couldn’t believe it when your mother told me you’re in the wedding. Why did you say yes to that?”
“I thought about the future, sometime down the road when they’ve been married for a long time. I had to ask myself if I would still care about it all by then, or if I would regret it if I really put my foot down. And, honestly”—Paisley’s gaze flicks to Lausanne—“it was easier to say yes.”
“Easier on her,” Lausanne points out.
“Yeah.”
“What about you?” she presses.
Paisley’s attention is on me now, swift and sure. “I’m doing fine.”
The desire to touch her right now is strong, but Lausanne sits between us. I settle for a dip of my chin, a slow acceptance of her claim.
Lausanne pushes off with her feet, rocking her own chair, and nods. I’m not sure if it’s in agreement, or acquiescence.
After a long moment, Paisley announces she’s goinginside for water and she’ll return with enough for everyone.
When the door closes behind her, Lausanne says into the dark night, “Paisley should’ve told her sister to go fuck herself.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Paisley downedthree glasses of water and declared it bedtime. Lausanne kissed both our cheeks and climbed the narrow staircase to her second story bedroom.
On our trek in from the beach earlier, I’d located an air mattress in an unattached shed, hidden off to the side of the house. When I’m positive Lausanne has closed her bedroom door, I sneak outside and remove it from where I hide it behind the billowy hydrangea bush.
Upstairs, Paisley turns on the shower while I use the handheld motor to inflate the air mattress.
Or, as I attempt to inflate the mattress. Ancient and missing instructions, this is likely going to end up with me in a MacGyver situation. Short on tools and extra sticky bubblegum, I’ll have to rely on my intellect.
Paisley sits on the edge of the bed as she waits for the water to heat, watching me. In five second intervals, her longing gaze finds itself in the bathroom, where the shower runs.
“You can take a shower,” I tell her, wrestling with the small metal piece that is supposed to fit into the mattress.
“We need the sound. I wouldn’t be able to close the door.”
“You afraid I’ll sneak a peek?”
“Klein,” her head tips sideways. At some point this evening she tied it into a messy bun identical to the one flopping around her head when she showed up to the airport. Was that only this morning? It feels like it could’ve been yesterday.
As if spurred into action by my thoughts, the exhaustion sinks into my bones. I sit back on my knees and fight a yawn. “Yes, Paisley?”
“We’re sharing a room. And a bathroom. I’d say it’s likely that at some point this week, you and I are going to see one another’s bits.”
