My back is sunburned andmy front side is paler than it was when we arrived. I rotate in the bathroom mirror; it’s impossible to miss the contrast. I wrap my hair up in a towel and cocoon myself in one of the three robes hanging in the bathroom, blushing again at how rude I’d been when we arrived. There are so many little details Nico and his mom have thought of—these terry-cloth robes, clean and pressed and cozy; the lemon-scented toiletries, made by a local artisan. It’s hard to fathom that one day, maybe not too long from now, this hotel may not exist.
There’s a monstrosity of a book sitting on the countertop. “Where did this come from?” I ask.
“Nico gave me that,” Mari says. “It’s one of his school textbooks. I needed something heavy to help press the flowers.” The tiny stem of white star jasmine flowers she picked yesterday are smushed between the chapters.
So this is what he’s studying. It’s a different book from the one he was studying last night. I page through, trying to make sense of the pictures. He has scratchy notes inside the margins next to highlighted and underlinedpassages—he’s marked up nearly every page. No wonder he got that prestigious fellowship.
I rummage through my suitcase for a top that won’t put my bright red back on display. We have our balcony doors cracked, and a breeze flutters the white gauze drapes. Mari tinkers with her laptop as she prepares to stream Lorena’s graduation. She just got done showing us photos of the varsity jacket she crocheted as a gift in preparation for high school—it’s museum-worthy.
Mari checks the time. “I’m sorry I’ll miss dinner. I just can’t skip this.” She’s lined up confetti bombs and a sign that saysCONGRATULATIONS, LORENA!for the Zoom after-party, and she already FaceTimed her mom to make sure the jacket was wrapped and ready. It makes any plans we may have had for tonight a wash, but Mari always showed up for her siblings.
“Sora, will you be upset if I stay behind too?” Anya asks. “I said I’d Zoom with my new roommate. You know, figure out who’s bringing what? I thought I could do that on the balcony so I can at least catch Lorena walking across the stage.”
“No, that’s totally fine. I get it,” I say, keeping my tone light. Maybe under normal circumstances I would be annoyed or jealous. Bothered by Anya’s exciting new chapter or Mari’s preoccupation over a middle school graduation while we were supposed to be spending our last summer together, but this time, I have something of my own to be excited about: Wes has just texted. “I mightwalk around, explore some.” I pause when Mari’s face drops. “I mean, I can stay in if you want, Mari. I’d like to support Lorena too.”
“Oh my gosh, Sora. You don’t have to.”
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”
“No, seriously. It doesn’t make sense for us to all stay inside. Go explore, take photos! I insist.” Mari smiles. “Thank you for offering, though. That means a lot.”
“Okay. Of course.” I retreat to the bathroom to start the painstakingly long process of blow-drying my thick Middle Eastern hair. I feel guilty at the wave of relief that washes over me. As much as I hate lying to my best friends, there’s no way around it if I want to keep the peace. My attempt to come clean this morning proves it.
I do have one brain spark, though. Rummaging through my purse, I find the card Nico gave me with the phone number scribbled on it. I quickly send it a message.Ciao! This is Sora from room 33. Would it be possible to send up a bottle of prosecco to our room, on ice with two glasses? And maybe something chocolate? With a note that says: To Anya and Mari, these bubbles are on me! Congrats, Lorena! Love, Sora.
It’s not long before I get a reply.
Buona sera, Sora. No problem. We will just need to see your ID.
I do a double-take. Is this for real? I wonder if this is Nico’s mom responding—maybe Nico is still out with the girl from the beach. Maybe Nico’s mom is more conscientiousthan the other adults we’ve run into. I can respect that. I’m rummaging through my purse for my driver’s license when another text comes in.
Sora, this was a joke. I will take care of it.
My face relaxes into a grin.Nico, that was a very bad dad joke.
Dad joke? What is this?
A joke that dads make?
So a regular joke?
No. Not at all.
Nico appears to give up on understanding.What did you guys do today?
We had an amazing day at the beach. You?
I watch the iMessage bubbles for a painstakingly long time.
I had to work. Ran some errands. Saw an old friend.
My eyes snag on the wordfriend. I wonder if Goddess Girl knows that’s how Nico describes her. A pocket of uneasiness in my stomach reminds me that’s how Wes has referred to me for years. I’m still debating how to respond when he texts me again.
I’d still like to understand what dad joke means.
I’ll have to explain next time I see you.
Perfecto. You can tell me tomorrow.
