“What do you have to buy right now?”I asked.
“Tarps.Poles.Some sort of waterproof ground cloth so that we’re not all walking in mud.”
“Mom, it’s fine—”
“It’snotfine.Stop saying it’s fine!”She stood there, breathing hard.And then she stalked toward the door.“Johnny, let’s go.”
My dad rose from his crouch.The flames flickered in the lenses of his glasses.He patted my shoulder as he followed my mom out into the hall, where a murmured conversation picked up.A few minutes later, a door slammed.
Keme, thank God, was still hypnotized by the fire.
I dragged myself off the chesterfield.
Indira stood in the hall, holding open the door to the servants’ dining room.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
“Tomorrow is a big day,” Indira said.“Everyone is stressed.”
“That’s putting it politely.I was going to say my parents are nuts.Excuse me while I go try to make things better and inevitably make things worse.”
With a soft laugh, Indira tilted her head toward the servants’ dining room.“Maybe give them a few minutes.”
We ended up in the kitchen.Indira went to a drawer and took out a wooden spoon.
“If you’re thinking about spanking me,” I said, “you’re too late.”
Do you want to know the absolute worst part?She didn’t raise her eyebrows.She didn’t make a face.She didn’tdoanything.But all of a sudden, my cheeks were on fire, and I had the distinct impression that Indira was laughing at me.(Kindly, of course.)
“She’s a control freak,” I said, the words rising unexpectedly.“And a perfectionist.So, if nothing else, at least I come by it honestly.”
“She wants tomorrow to be perfect,” Indira said as she took a bowl out of the refrigerator and gave the contents a stir.It looked like some kind of batter that probably didn’t need stirring, but I appreciated that she was trying to make me feel comfortable.“Because she loves you, and she wants you to be happy, and for her, part of that means trying to make sure everything is exactly right.She’s not upset about the rain, dear.She’s upset because she’s afraid, and because she loves you, and because she’s having a hard time telling you.”
“Story of our lives,” I muttered.
The rain pattered on the roof.
Indira set the bowl in front of me.“Safe-to-eat cookie dough,” she said.“I thought you might need a pre-wedding snack.”
“You’re an angel.You’re a goddess.You’re perfection.”
As I dug into the cookie dough like a—well, any comparison would probably be unflattering and involve a trough—I said, “I get it.The rain is out of her control.That’s frustrating.The anger is a way of dealing with the frustration.It’s just—I mean, nobody can control the weather.There’s nothing anybody can do about it.It’s just going to be whatever it will be.”
“That’s a very healthy attitude,” Indira said, patting my arm.“But maybe you can also show some consideration for all the effort your mom is putting into making it a good day.”
I sighed.
I sounded a lot like seventeen-year-old Dash.
“Yeah,” I said.“I guess.”
(I mean, alotlike seventeen-year-old Dash.)
And I know I’ve gone on and on about Indira, and about that white lock of hair, and about the witchy energy she has sometimes, like she knows you ate all the animal crackers and sometimes you bit the heads off first because obviously that’s how aT.Rexwould eat them and you didn’t evenbuymore animal crackers to replace the ones you ate because you spent that money at Let’s Taco Bout Tacos.
But I swear to God, right then, my skin pebbled, and the air was charged like right before a lightning strike, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if the hair on my head was standing straight up.
“And don’t worry about tomorrow,” Indira said.“I’m sure it’ll be a lovely day.”
