“You’ve been such a downer lately, Étienne. Please?”
“When have I been a downer?” I cocked my head up.
“Uh, look at you.”
“Whatever. I can’t. I don’t know if I’ll be home later,” I replied, still thinking about the text message. I was telling the truth. What if he did respond and wanted to hang out? I wouldn’t be able to drive her. Then again, what if he didn’t? “Fine,” I told her. “But you have to be ready as soon as she gets home. And feed Frankie right now, please.”
“All right. What’s got you all wound up?” she whispered loud enough for me to hear.
I got up and closed the door again, this time throwing a bunch of books in front of it to keep it closed. The bedroom doors had been painted so many times over the years that they didn’t shut properly and cracked open without you knowing.
I lay on the bed for another hour without being able to fall back to sleep, then decided to get up. I needed to do my laundry anyway.
Seriously? She can walk,I said to myself as I passed my sister with the laundry basket in my hands. She was on her way out the door to walk to her girlfriend’s house a block away.If you can walk a block, you can walk a few more blocks to get to Nate’s.
I spent some time in the basement sorting through my hamper to see what needed to go in the delicate cycle, and what could wait for the permanent press afterward.
Yes. As a teenager I did my own laundry and sorted my clothes according to what the tag said. I’ve always been particular about how my clothes fit—slim but not tight. Especially after my mom ruined one of my favorite polos in the dryer. From then on, no one was ever allowed to touch my clothes.
My phone dinged as I walked up the steps to the kitchen.Heyy.I nearly dropped the laundry basket.
It’s him!
My stomach fell upward into my throat as if I had woken up from a falling dream. There the message was, just below mine from much earlier.Ugh, how am I going to respond to “Heyy”?I stood still, looking around to make sure no one was around me. Yes, I was alone in the house, but when you have three younger siblings, there are always prying eyes. And as I began to think of how to respond, the side door opened, bringing in the sound of multiple teenage voices giggling and whispering.
Shit. I was supposed to be alone for a couple hours.
“Étienne, you still home?” my sister asked. She turned the corner and saw me standing at the top of the steps in the kitchen. “Ugh. You know you look like a creep standing there all quiet and waiting.”
“Really, Riley?”
“Nate’s dad picked us all up. We’re going to hang out here for the day. Don’t worry about later.”
Don’t worry about later? I’m worrying about right now. How can I think while you guys are here making a bunch of noise?
My sister, her boyfriend, and two of her friends invaded the rear living room, forcing me to hide out in my bedroom and try to think of how to respond to this message without sounding too eager. And to obviously examine why he would use the letterytwice inHeyy.
I wasn’t sure of what to say. Did I want to be the one to initiate a meetup or did I want to tell him I texted to provide my number? I didn’t want him to think I was too keen on seeing him. Wasn’t I, though?
But then what if I came off as rude by not asking to hang out? What if he thought,He’s texting me to tell me I have his number now? Is this a joke? Forget it.
It shouldn’t have been this hard to reply to a text message. I just wanted a friend who wasn’t a girl. I’d never had one before. Was that so much to ask for? I was awkward and quiet around my male peers. Too awkward. Too quiet.
After several minutes thinking about how to ask if he wanted to hang out, I realized how early I had texted him.I’m such a creep! Why did I text him so early? What is wrong with you, Étienne?
So, instead of initiating a meetup, I decided to apologize.Hey. Sorry for the early text. I was up really late and forgot what time it was.
I sat, looking at the message for a few minutes with my thumb on send, then thought about erasing it to calm down and see if he would send me another message. I was about to close my phone and grab my iPod to lose myself in the trancey beats of Paul Van Dyk’salbumGlobalwhen my door flew open.
“What the— Come on, Riley. I could’ve been changing or something.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? It’s not like I haven’t seen you before, Étienne.”
“No you haven’t!” I said. She had when we were kids, like all siblings do when they’re really young. But definitely not as teenagers. Even before that. I always made it a point that people not see me without clothes on. Well, unless I was wearing a bathing suit to swim. But that’s different.
My siblings paid no attention to privacy. They didn’t care who did or didn’t see them unclothed in their own house. Even as Riley aged and started to become more self-aware, she’d slip here and there. Like when I was sitting in the rear living room with my mom and her friend Laura watching TV, probablyThe Real Housewivesof something. Riley came to the room in a bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a towel. She didn’t want to be left out of seeing the episode. So she grabbed her long mirror, which usually leaned against the wall in her room next to the closet, and sat on the couch next to me, holding the mirror upright with her left hand as she did her makeup with the right. She told us she needed to adjust her bathrobe and to look down so we wouldn’t see anything, so my mom, Laura, and I looked down to give her some privacy. Finished, Riley placed the mirror on the floor, and before she said it was okay to look up, she decided to step over the mirror.
My crazy sister stepped over the damn mirror while we were looking down. Who does that?