“Just tonight,” I beg. “One last time.”
“Just tonight,” she echoes. “One last time.”
23
VICE
“BORN TO DIE” - LANA DEL REY
“Il mio angelo,”my mom exclaims before the bells on the front door to the coffee shop even stop chiming. She immediately breaks several health code violations as she walks around the counter and takes my face between her hands. “You look so much better today.”
“I’m feeling better,” I say, lips pursed between squished cheeks. “It only lasts a few days.”
“Monica, get out from back there,” my dad grumbles. “You don’t need to get Dahlia slapped with a fine.”
“Ti darò uno schiaffo,” she snaps back.
He watches her with affectionate amusement, and the glitter in my mother’s brown eyes matches it. They’ve always had the kind of playful, easy-going marriage that I hoped to find for myself. They met young and realized quickly that they’d never need anyone else again.
It was easy to get caught up in the idea of simplistic eternity when it was the primary example of love you spent your whole life witnessing. Now, I watch them in astonishment, unable to comprehend how two people could’ve possibly gotten every decision right the first time around, or if there are darker aspects of their story they’ve kept hidden from us.
I wonder if dark people like me even deserve that kind of happiness.
I didn’t used to think like this, and that’s probably why I can’t finish a manuscript to save my fucking life.
“What’re you two doing here?” I ask, sliding to the end of the counter so the other barista, Aimee, can take over.
“Grabbing an overnight bag for Lou from Dahlia. We’re going to pick her up from school, and she’s going to sleep over at our house. Everett’s taking Dal away for the night to celebrate her birthday.”
“Fuck. It’s Dahlia’s birthday?”
I’ve been working with her for the last five hours, and nobody said a goddamn thing.
“Everett texted the family group message three times yesterday to make sure nobody forgot,” my dad chimes.
I’ve had the family group text muted for years. Dammit.
“I feel bad,” I say as my mom tosses me a serves-you-right look.
“It’s fine.” Dahlia flutters through the double doors that lead from the kitchen. “I don’t like to celebrate my birthday, anyway.” She smiles at me as she hands a backpack to my mom. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
“None of that!” Mom swats at her before pulling Dahlia in for a hug. “Today is tied for my top six favorite days of the year. Don’t insult me by belittling it.”
“Top six?” I deadpan, glancing at my dad.
“She thinks the best days of the year are the ones where her kids and grandkid were born.” He smiles at her adoringly. “Notice how my birthday isn’t on that list, but it’s fine.”
Both of my brothers come through the front doors of the cafe, smiling as they greet our parents. “Thanks for watching her,” Everett says as he pulls away from my mom’s embrace.
“You can pay me back with more?—”
“More grandbabies. I know. I know.” He laughs, scratching his beard. “I’m doing my best, okay?”
“All you have to do is not pull out.” I tilt my coffee mug in his direction before taking a sip.
“Yeah, dude. If you can’t perform, just say that.” Leo tosses him a shit-eating grin.
“You’re fuckin’ annoying,” Everett mutters.
