Lucy laughs, and it’s like the first chirps of robins out my window after a long winter. I want to bottle it up so I can listen to it on repeat later.
“I love that you’re close with your grandparents and their community here,” Lucy says.
“It’s a cool place.” I nod, steering the conversation in that direction. “Gram and Pa raised me after my parents died.”
I rarely talk about my parents. But something about Lucy’s willingness to be here tonight, to fight through the awkwardness and put herself out there, causes a crack in my usually shiny, surface-level front.
She nods slowly, her hazel eyes warm and her expression earnest. “I read about your parents and their passing when I looked up your bio.” Her face is pink, like she’s still embarrassed that she’s researched me. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I dip my chin. “Thanks. I didn’t really know them, but I’ve heard all the stories from Gram and Pa, and my parents were good people.” I let out a breath. “I guess I miss all that might have been and the experiences I never got to have with them, you know?”
“I do know.” She offers me a sad smile. “I’m not sure how much of my family you’ve followed over the years, but I lost my mom as a baby and my dad passed when I was ten.”
How could I have forgotten that?I have a baseline knowledge of what goes on in the entertainment and pop culture world. I haven’t watched a ton of her family’s show,Dinner with the Duprees, mostly because its usual airtime is Sunday evening, and I’m either playing or watching football. But the Duprees have been a staple for two cycles of seasonal TV, much longer than that if you count the family’s social media presence.
I have a vague memory of hearing Ruby, the family matriarch, sharing her origin story on some morning talk show. She’s Lucy’s stepmom, if I’m recalling correctly, and she got her start in the industry when she began posting online vlogs of raising three kids after her husband tragically died in a gas station robbery. He was a good Samaritan caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. My heart cracks open for the woman sitting in front of me.
“That’s right. I’m so sorry.” I reach across the table and instinctively cover her hand with mine again. I give it a gentle squeeze and then pull back.
I have so many questions. Did her stepmom treat her well? Does she get along with her stepsisters? It didn’t look like itduring the People’s Picks, but you never know. I hate the thought of Lucy being a real-life Cinderella. Suddenly that feels too on the nose. My protective instincts flare.
“It’s a club no one wants to be a part of, right? The dead parents club.” She winces out a wan smile. “Only people in it can understand what it’s like.”
“Very true.” Come to think of it, maybe it’s the fact that we’ve both lost our parents that makes Lucy feel more like a kindred spirit to me. Maybe the magnetic draw I feel toward her and this strange desire to protect her at all costs has more to do with that shared life experience than anything else.
“Yoohoo! You two! What are you doing sitting like bumps on a log?” Gram sashays out of the square-dancing formation she’s been in since I arrived and hurries over, stopping in front of our table. “TJ, glad you could make it. Best get out on the dance floor. We’ve only booked the instructor for another forty minutes.”
“I’m not much of a dancer, Loretta.” Lucy puts up her hands in the universal stop sign. “I’m enjoying watching, though.”
“Nonsense. You simply must join in. You think we’re all dancers? Have you really been watching? Carol’s out here acting like she’s aCoyote Uglyunderstudy, but the rest of us can barely put two steps together.”
I grimace. “Gram, what do you know aboutCoyote Ugly?”
“Enough.” Gram tips up her nose. “Now, come on. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Gram, I’ve got a game this weekend. I’ll stay over here and keep Lucy company.”
“We’re not doing anything that body of yours can’t handle.” Gram grabs for my hand and pulls me upright. “You can keep Lucy company on the dance floor.”
“Alright. I’m coming, I’m coming.” I turn to Lucy, who has her eyes roaming over, as Gram puts it,that body of mine.
“You are not at all obliged to join us,” I tell her, drawing her attention to my face and relishing the pink hue of her cheeks. “You’re a guest.” I say the last word with a pointed look at Gram, who has the presence of mind to incline her head, reluctantly agreeing with me. “Feel free to watch me attempt to dance from here.”
Lucy twists her lips to the side, and her gaze darts toward the geriatric dance party happening beyond me, then back to my Gram, and then in another quick perusal of my body, which I do not hate, and then up to meet my eyes.
“I suppose I could give it a try,” she says after a beat.
Gram cheers. “I knew you were a gamer, Lucy. That’s my girl.”
“You know,” Lucy says to Gram as my grandmother leads us to the center of the dance floor, “my friends call me Lu.”
“Lu it is!” Gram claps her hand and takes her position across the square, next to Pa, who winks at me. Carol and a man I don’t recognize stand to my left. Titi and a guy who looks vaguely familiar are on Lucy’s right.
I’m paired with Lucy, and as I glance down at her as she takes in the whole scene, I mumble “Lu” under my breath, trying out the sound of it on my lips. I like it. I like it a lot.
“Yes?”
I blink, and she stares at me expectantly.
