We’re not going out anymore, I say stiffly, trying to hold back the flood of regret.
Oh, Clee. Don’t tell me you broke up with him just because your brother wanted you to. So, my mother isn’t completely Team Jordan. Maybe she has doubts too?
But before I can ask, my Aunt Kelsie pulls her away. My mom is the guest of honour, after all.
The party is surprisingly fun, despite my bad mood. It’s nice to be in a place where nobody knows that I’ve just split with Mats. I talk hockey with my cousins and fend off questions about my personal life. In an alternate universe, Mats would be beside me, impressing the hell out of my aunts with his style, sophistication, and smooth manners. All qualities I lack.
Maybe because I’m at home, I’m struck by this huge insight: relationships work when people complement each other. My parents were always fighting for all the oxygen in the room, both of them wanting to be the centre of attention. Their marriage worked when my mother adored my dad, but once she realized she needed her own spotlight, the fighting began.
Jordan is here, of course, though he’s doing a Frogger-level job of hopping out of my way. But I bide my time; there’s no way I’m leaving without interrogating him once and for all.
Hey, Cleo. What are you doing here?
I turn to see Nick Johnson. He went to my high school, but he’s kind of arrogant. He thinks he’s a big deal because his family owns our local pharmacy and hardware store, so they have money.
Duh, it’s my mother’s birthday, Nick. Why are you here?
Jordan and I hang out a lot these days. Nick is short, and he used to be skinny. But he’s hulked out since high school.
You must really be hitting the gym, I observe politely.
He actually pops a bicep. Barf.
Not so bad yourself, Nelson. Then he actually squeezes my upper arm. Again, I long to have Mats here, because his biceps would make Nick’s biceps look malnourished.
Hey, how about a selfie? Nick drapes an arm around my shoulder and has his phone out before I can even answer. In fact, I’m saying No as he takes the photo.
I brush his arm away. What the fuck, Nick?
Just wanted a photo with the leading scorer of the Monarch women’s team, he says. As if sensing I’m pissed off, he glides away to chat with Jordan.
The dining room table is loaded with food. It all looks delicious, but I’m probably the only person who feels like crying when she sees the funeral potatoes. Which reminds me that we still have our Tuesday dinners. At least I’ll get a chance to talk to Mats; I can apologize, and maybe… nope, can’t get ahead of myself. First things first: Jordan.
After eating, we all sing Happy Birthday to Mom. She looks flushed and happy and relaxed. That little wrinkle of tension between her eyebrows is gone now. My talk with Graham made me realize that there have been too many times I blamed my mother for things that weren’t her fault.
When I spot Jordan putting on his boots, I collar him.
Going home, baby brother? We haven’t even had a chance to catch up tonight.
I’m not talking to you. He sounds like a petulant toddler.
Yeah, you are. I’m coming with you. I want to see Dad. I grab my coat and pull my own boots on.
I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He might not even be home, and I’m supposed to meet a friend, Jordan says, without meeting my eyes.
Well, then, you can bring me back here. It’ll only take ten minutes. Our dad’s place is about two miles away. I used to bike over for visits during the summer. They split when I was twelve and Jordan was eleven, so we were old enough for some independence but too young to get into real trouble. Besides, we were jocks. More likely to wreck the house with a game of indoor soccer than do anything illegal.
Our drive is even frostier than the weather. Jordan is first to break. He’s a talker, like me. I think Mom might be thinking of getting married again. I was afraid that they might make some big announcement at the party.
I kind of like Graham, I say. Jordan and I used to bond by making fun of the people our parents dated. But, as I learned on my ride here, Graham’s not afraid to stand up for Mom. She was always the disciplinarian, while my dad was the fun parent. So, maybe now she enjoys relaxing and having someone else look out for her. I certainly liked Mats’s considerate ways. It was like dating a man after boys.
That’s new, Jordan says.
He was really nice on our drive here, I explain.
Oh, that’s a shot at me because I wouldn’t drive you here. Well, that’s on you. If you never went out with Matsumoto, none of this would have happened, Jordan gripes.
We’re going to talk about this. But I want Dad to be there too. I’m finally going to get to the bottom of what happened.
