“That was nice of you.”
“I’m hardly the wicked witch you’ve spent years making me out to be.”
I pick up a wonton and snap my arm back like I’m going to throw it at her. She ducks behind the door of the fridge, laughing. “Don’t you dare!”
“I won’t, because that’d be a waste of a perfectly good wonton.” I drop it onto my plate and head for the table. When Tati joins me with a plate of her own, I say, “I’m going to Henry’s later. You were right—he and I need to have a conversation.”
She nods, smiling down at her food.
It’s not often that I admit she knows better than I do.
She didn’t react to the news about me getting fired the way I thought she would. I mean, she was disappointed for sure, but she didn’t yell, and she didn’t make me feel worse. More than anything, she was bummed that I’d put Turtle in such a difficult position, which bothers me equally.
“I’m going to reach out to him,” I told her this morning. “I want him to know how sorry I am and that I learned from my screw-up.”
“I think he’d appreciate that,” she said. “He may not want you to work for him anymore, but he’ll always care about you. He knows we’re more than our mistakes.”
She’s right. It’s been a hard-won lesson, but this summer more than any other time in my life, I’ve realized the importance of forgiveness, of assuming good intentions, of compassion, and of conviction. I want to keep surrounding myself with people who embody those traits, and I want to strive to exemplify them myself.
My sister is the best example.
“You know, I can help you look for a new job, if you want,” she tells me now.
I make a mopey face and say with a sigh, “Maybe. I was hoping for a letter of recommendation from Turtle, though. I’m gonna need some stellar endorsements for my college applications.”
She reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “It’ll work out. You’ll get letters of recommendation from your guidance counselor and a couple of teachers and your next boss, probably. Your GPA is strong. You’ll get into a good school.”
“I don’t want just any good school. I want to go to Stony Brook University.”
“In New York?”
“Yes, in New York. I want to study marine biology, Tati, like Mom and Dad. I’ve been doing tons of research, looking into lots of different schools, learning about programs all over the country. There are a few I’d like to apply to, but I’ve just got this feeling—Stony Brook University is it for me. I know you don’t think I should leave Florida. I know it’s super far away, and I know out-of-state tuition is bananas, but I’m going to apply for scholarships, and I can take out loans if I need to. Will you keep an open mind?”
She lets out a hefty sigh, and I sense it—the turning of tides.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she says slowly, like she’s still working it out in her head. “I’ll keep an open mind if you will too. Promise me you’ll consider some Florida schools as well.”
“Tati—”
“Look, I know it’s selfish, but you’re my baby sister. I don’t want you to live far away.”
“But think of it as an opportunity for you too. If I leave Sugar Bay, you’ve got nothing keeping you here. You could move anywhere. Back to Boston, or LA, or Europe. Get back into interior design, or something else entirely.”
She considers this as if she’s only now realizing that she’s got a whole lot of life ahead of her. Then she reaches out to take my hand. “I’m going to miss you no matter where you go.”
I smile. “I know. But look on the bright side: Your home will beso cleanwhen I’m not living in it.”
Poking me with her foot, she says, “I’ll try to wrap my head around college out of state if you keep your nose clean. I mean that figurativelyandliterally. No more piercings.”
“Okay—yes. No more piercings. Best behavior.”
She grins, giving me a resolute nod. And then she launches into a story about how when she was home from college one summer, she wasnoton her best behavior and ended up getting fired from her job as a beach lifeguard.
“Apparently, you’re not supposed to snag a key from your supervisor’s office, use it to unlock one of the guard towers, and sneak in with a random summer hookup,” she finishes with mock indignation.
I die laughing.
Maybe she and I aren’t so different after all.
