“The best,” she crows. “Want to play bumper cars with me? I’ll let you ram me.”
Fucking hell.
“Thank you for the offer, but we’re actually about to head to Carver’s Family BBQ. Your grandson said to ask you and Bristol if you wanted to go eat with us.”
“I’m sure she’ll want to. The kids just started complaining that they’re hungry. Here she comes now.”
We watch as Bristol slides down a green slide with her toddler, Henry, in her lap. She agrees to a late lunch, and twenty minutes later, we have all the kids rounded up and are walking into the family-owned restaurant.
I’m surprised to see my dad and Rebecca at the hostess stand in front of us. “Hey, good to see you both,” I say, giving dad a hug and kissing my stepmom on the cheek. “You guys want to join us?”
Opal, the ever-present waitress, seats us shortly at a long, unadorned table. I’m sitting on one side with Dad, Rebecca, Gram, Tank, and Henry, who’s secured in a highchair. Reece wanted to sit beside the middle Hanford child, Maddie, and, of course Jordie, so she’s across from me while Bristol, Amelia, and Perri take the final seats on that side.
After Opal takes our orders, my dad decides it’s officiallyembarrass the fuck out of Phoenixday and begins telling stories.
“And then I remember this one time, I took all three of my boys fishing.” He smiles fondly at my half sister. “This was before you came along, Perri. Anyway, I taught the boys how to bait a hook, and a few minutes later, I catch a whiff of something sweet.”
“What was it, Dad?” Perri asks, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth.
I contain my sigh because I know what’s coming next. My father guffaws, barely able to get the words out. “Phoenix was wiping his hands with…” he pauses for maximum dramatic effect, “feminine hygiene wipes.”
The entire table erupts in laughter. At least the adults do. The little ones are busy coloring and playing tic-tac-toe on their kid menus.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I say good-naturedly. “I found them in Mom’s bathroom cabinet and asked what they were. She told me they were for women to clean themselves. So I thought,hey, why can’t I use them to clean my hands?”
Dad takes a sip of his sweet tea. “And then there was the time Phoenix and Helix used their mom’s tampons as darts for their Nerf guns. We had feminine products shooting all over the damn house. Apparently that was Phoenix’s idea.”
Cue more laughter. Until Jordie leans forward, forearms on the table. “When I was five, I took all my sister’s tampons, painted them red and green, and hung them on the Christmas tree.”
“No you didn’t!” Perri shrieks through a giggle. “What happened?”
Jordie rolls her eyes. “I did it on Christmas Eve. No one even noticed until we sat around the tree to open presents that evening. My dad saw them first and plucked one off the tree, staring at it for a long time. Then he realized what it was and chucked it across the room.”
All the grown-ups are howling, and Jordie gives me a soft smile ofsolidarity across the table. I return it, feeling my heart do a little stutter step.
Opal, obviously overhearing the story, begins serving the food, plopping down butcher paper with smoked meat in front of everyone. “Well, I think we’ve found your nickname, Miss McNamara. You’re now the Tampon Elf.”
Her eyes round, and my dad explains, “Opal gives everyone a nickname. Phoenix’s is Booger.”
Could this dinner get any more humiliating?
Jordie rolls her lips inward, doing her best to stifle a smile. Puffing out a sigh, I explain, “When I was a kid, we came here to eat, and I stuffed a piece of fried okra up my nose and told Mom I had a booger.”
Dad chuckles at the memory. “He stuffed it way up in there. We had to take him to the emergency room to get it out.”
I shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
A few hours later, I’m in my bedroom, freshly showered and sitting against my black padded headboard, scrolling mindlessly on my phone when a text notification pops up from Jordie. I tap on it.
Jordie: Thanks so much for coming today and for dinner afterward. Your family is nice.
Me: They’re a pain in the ass, but I guess I’ll keep them.
Jordie: After hearing your dad’s stories, I can see where Reece gets her thuggish lifestyle. You’re paying for your raising, as my dad used to say.
Me: No lies detected. Thanks for stepping in with your own embarrassing story.
Jordie: I couldn’t tell if your dad’s stories bothered you or not, but I decided to take some of the heat off you.
