“Yeah, bro, and it’s her.”
I shake my head and pour the first glass, handing it over to Mrs. Quinn. “Red?”
“Yes, please,” she says, taking the wine glass into her hand.
“What happened?” I ask Brody.
“Uh, some little shithead, Dunce … like, who names their kid Dunce, first, second, why is my daughter texting a boy in her class?”
I hand Brody the entire bottle of wine. “Dude, chill.”
“Chill? Are you kidding? I know what I was doing at twelve.”
“Hannah is only ten. I think you’re overreacting.”
“She’s going to be eleven in two weeks. This isn’t good. You know how they say each generation figures things out faster than the one before? Well, she’s figuring shit out. I just know it. She told me she needed a bra. Like, what?”
The words I hear strike a nerve because I know it’s all coming, and I’m not ready to have those talks with Parker or prepared to go bra shopping with my daughter. I’ve told myself I will cross that bridge when I get to it, and it has to be at least three years away.
“Can shit-head handle the bra situation with her?”
“Shit-head can barely make time for Hannah, so I’m guessing the last thing Shit-head wants to do is spend quality time with her daughter while bra shopping.”
“You’re just going to have to suck it up, bro. I don’t know what to tell you. But I’ll tell you this … if you tell her she can’t talk to this boy, whoever he is, I promise you she will talk to him just out of spite.”
Brody takes a swig from the bottle, and I grab it from his hand because that’s freaking rude as hell since I haven’t finished pouring glasses yet. “How do you even know all of this?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, parenting articles, I guess.”
“You read those?”
“Well, yeah, I’d rather be informed than in the dark.”
“Dweeb,” Brody says, flicking me in the forehead as he walks through the kitchen to offer his hello to Mrs. Quinn.
I finish pouring a couple of glasses of red and move onto the bottle of white while hearing the front door open. It could be Journey or Melody, but I’m on the opposite side of the kitchen and can’t see into the foyer.
“Hi,” I hear. My back is to the entryway of the kitchen, but I turn, finding an unsettled look. She’s clearly uncomfortable, which makes me feel bad since she’s in her house and we’ve barged in.
“Hi, honey,” Mrs. Quinn greets her daughter.
“It’s nice to see you again, sweetie,” Mom follows, making her way over to Melody and kissing her on the cheek. “I think we’re all set, so go have a seat. What would you like to drink?”
I would offer her a drink since it is my assigned responsibility, but now it looks like my mother needs to speak for me. How fun.
“I can get my drink, but thank you for offering,” Melody says with a polite smile.
“Wine or something else?” I cut in, ignoring the fact that she just said she’d get herself a drink.
Melody stares at me for a long second before responding to my question. It feels like she’s trying to read my mind or figure out why I thought it would be a good idea to join my parents here tonight. “I’ll have a glass of wine, I guess,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. She does this when she’s uncomfortable, like she’s protecting herself from everything around her.
“Red or white?” Maybe I should have just offered the white since Brody was kind enough to sample the red directly from the bottle.
“White, please,” she says. Thankfully.
I turn to grab the bottle of white wine and a glass, but when I turn around, I see that Melody has left the room.
I pour the glass anyway and set it on the counter for when she returns, but she doesn’t come back. After a few minutes, I join Pops and Brody in the dining room, watching a magic trick show, which Parker interrupts when she yanks on my wrist, loudly whispering her need to find the bathroom.
