An hour and a half later, I’ve showered and changed, and they’ve returned with the food—burgers from Veronica’s, plus popcorn and M&Ms for extra snacking. I queue up the show and we eat, Taylor and I sitting on the old, worn couch in the living room while Jacob sprawls out on the recliner.
We’ve barely made it through the first episode when Jacob falls asleep and starts snoring louder than the TV.
“Poor guy, he must be exhausted. You running him ragged or what?”
“Taylor, he drank six beers and had how many shots while you were at Veronica’s? It’s not me.”
She frowns over at him. “I don’t know what he had. I wasn’t paying much attention. But I’m sure it’s just a phase. I drank too much when I was younger too.”
I roll my head over on the sofa to give her a look. “He’s a year younger than you.”
One shoulder bounces up and down. “He’s a boy. They don’t mature until forty-five—if you’re lucky. He’s basically twelve.”
I sigh. “I hope it’s a phase, but I’m worried about him.” I want to unburden myself completely, but I hold back.
I’m not used to having frank conversations with my younger siblings because I’ve been more of a mother figure than an older sister.
Maybe Taylor is right, and it will all work itself out. But what if she isn’t? Maybe there’s nothing I can do, but I wish there was someone who could at least understand. Someone I could vent to that could just listen.
Taylor is older now, and maybe we’ve reached a point where I can share some of the load I’ve been shouldering. “Sometimes I feel like everything is falling apart.”
“You worry too much.” Then she pats my leg, like I’m the younger sibling and she used to change my dirty diapers instead of the other way around. “Everything always works out in the end. You don’t have to know how; you just have to trust that it will.” Her eyes scan over me, and she sits up straighter. “I know. You should let me give you a reading. The stars have been showing some weird things, but there’s a shift coming for you.” She taps her lips with a finger. “I can sense it.”
I wave a hand at her and try not to roll my eyes too hard. “I know, I know, it’s a full moon, and Mercury is in Gatorade or whatever.”
She laughs softly. “There she is. Don’t go getting all serious on me, or I’ll have to start calling you Mindy.” Her tone is teasing, but the glint in her eyes tells me otherwise.
“Have you talked to her?”
She averts her gaze, looking ahead at the TV. “Not since Christmas.”
She means the Christmas before last, more than a year ago. They got into some kind of fight or argument, but neither would say what it was about. There was a lot of bickering and sniping, and it was horrible and awkward.
Mindy and Taylor were never besties or anything but nothing as bad as this. They are about five years apart in age, Mindy being only a year younger than me. When we were kids, it was a big gap, but even as they’ve gotten older, their relationship has never improved. It’s only gotten worse.
“What happened with you two, anyway?” I throw the question out there. I don’t think she’ll tell me, but I give it a go anyway.
She reaches over to the coffee table to grab the bowl of popcorn. “Nothing happened. We’re just completely different people. I’m fun and she’s not, and that’s it. I don’t want to talk about Mindy. Have you talked to Piper lately?”
I wince. “Sort of? You probably talk to her more than I do. We’ve texted, but she never answers when I call, and I feel like she’s ignoring me. But maybe I’m being paranoid. She’s so busy all the time.”
“We met up for coffee last month when I was going through California.”
“Was Ben there?”
She picks through the popcorn bowl, hunting for the M&Ms. “I only saw him from a distance and just for a second. He dropped her off and then picked her up when we were done.”
I take a deep breath and release it, trying to not stress about things I can’t control. It’s everything. I can’t control anything.
“How was she?” I ask.
“She seemed okay. Too skinny.” She nudges me with her elbow and puts the popcorn bowl in my lap. “Kind of like you.”
I shove a few pieces into my mouth. “It’s not by choice.” I have no time to eat, and the time I have is spent doing manual labor.
“You need to enjoy your life rather than trying to control everything. Maybe you need a hot flannel-wearing businessman to take the edge off.” She raises her brows suggestively.
I groan. “Not this again.”