“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay. I think me being busy was actually a good move. He, like, won’t stop texting me.”
“You’re welcome.”
She snorted. “I’m still mad at you for drinking. It’s one thing for me to be messed up, but I didn’t like seeing you that way. I need you compos mentis.”
“You need me what, now?”
“Compos mentis,” she repeated. “It’s Latin. Means of sound mind.”
“You took Latin?”
“Yeah, one semester,” she said.
“Wow,” I said, surprised.
“What? It’s not easy for lake kids to get into a good college. We need all the credits we can get.” So she was going to school, even if she never talked about it. I hated I’d just assumed otherwise. “Anyway, the point is you’re not a party girl, Saylor. It doesn’t suit you.”
“No kidding.” Just the thought of alcohol brought back a wave of shame that was hot and awful. “I’ve learned my lesson, don’t worry. From now on I’ll be the DD, every time.”
“But first you have to, like, drive,” she pointed out.
“Well, yes.” By now, even getting behind the wheel sounded appealing compared to drinking. “I’m working on that. Or I was, before all this.”
There was a chime sound, distant. “Oh, crap. That’s Mimi, telling me to come do turnover. With you gone, I’m the last one standing. Or cleaning.”
“I’d love to be doing that,” I said wistfully. “I miss it.”
“Are you crazy? You’re at the Tides, for God’s sake!”
“Groundedat the Tides,” I reminded her.
“Which is still a million times better than wiping pubic hairs off a motel sink.”
I cringed. “That was quite the visual.”
“I know.” Another chime. “God, I’m coming. I’ll text you later. Reply this time, you hear? You know I hate talking on the phone.” Then she hung up, again without a goodbye.
It was now two thirty, which gave me three hours until dinner. I was contemplating a nap, just to help the time pass, when my phone lit up again. This time, it was a HiThere! from a number I didn’t recognize. Normally I would have ignored it, but what else was I doing? I hit ACCEPT.
There was that signature swooshing sound, and then a picture appeared. It was Trinity. Her belly, huge and rounded, took up all of the foreground.
“What is this I hear about you drinking?” she demanded. Did none of these Blackwood girls believe in greetings? “Are you crazy?”
“I made a mistake,” I said, sighing.
“Damn right you did,” she replied. “I expected more from you, honestly.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or ashamed by this scolding, considering not so long ago, she couldn’t stand me. “I’m paying the price, believe me. I’m grounded until further notice.”
“At the Tides,” she said. “Boo-hoo. I’m here on theporch, a million weeks pregnant with a fan on me and still sweating.”
“What’s the latest on the Sergeant?” I asked, wanting to get away from this tit-for-tat topic.
“Supposedly,” she said, shifting slightly so that her belly eclipsed the entire screen, momentarily, “he is getting home on the eighteenth. Which is a week before my due date.”
“That’s great, Trinity,” I told her.
