“Need me to beat someone up for you?” I ask.
Cassie makes a face. “It’s Aunt Karen, right?”
“Yep.” Nadine nods.
Cassie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’m not even surprised.”
“She’s not coming to the wedding?” I ask.
Patty purses her lips. “Yeah, she’s being . . . you know. She’s Karen.”
It’s funny—Nadine and my aunt Karen have been close since they were kids. Way closer than Nadine is with Abby’s dad, my uncle Albert. Karen’s never been married and has no human kids, though she has four rescue dogs. But even though Nadine and Karen talk every week, and even though she just lives in Annapolis, Cassie and I have only met her in person a handful of times. She always just happens to visit when Patty’s at work. And she kind of pretends like Patty doesn’t exist.
In other words: homophobic asshole.
“My goodness. That makes me so sad,” Grandma says. She picks up her fork and waves it around. “Love is love!”
Cassie snorts. “Thank you, Grandma.”
“I’m telling you: life is too short for this bullshit.”
“I’ll toast to that,” says Nadine, and she chugs her drink again.
But hours later, I’m still restless. So, I wait until everyone’s gone to bed, and then I slide out of the bottom bunk as quietly as I can.
“What are you doing?” Cassie asks.
“Going to pee.”
“No, you’re not,” she says.
I have no idea how she knows this. Sometimes Cassie knows exactly what I’m thinking, and I literally can’t think of any explanation other than twin telepathy.
“I’m eavesdropping,” I admit.
“Ooh—I’m coming with you.” She slides her legs down and lands on the floor beside me with a thud.
We creep down the hall to the bathroom, and I pull the door shut slowly. Years ago, Cassie and I figured out that the vent in the upstairs bathroom is a direct portal to our moms’ room. We used to bring snacks up and line the bathtub with pillows, so we could really settle in for some quality eavesdropping. And then it occurred to us that we were at grave risk of overhearing mom-sex.
So, we shut down that operation pretty quickly.
But tonight, Cassie puts the toilet lid down and sits on it like a chair, and I settle in with a pillow in the bathtub, and it’s exactly like it used to be. Right away, I hear them.
“—not calling her,” Nadine’s saying.
“She’s your sister.”
“She’s an asshole.”
“I’m just saying we should hear her side of this.”
“She doesn’t get a side.” Nadine’s voice cracks. “She’s missing our wedding.”
Patty sighs. “I know.”
Nadine says something else, but it’s too quiet to make out.
“Deenie, I know,” Patty says again. “I know.”
“It’s just messed up,” Nadine says.
“But Albert and Wanda and the kids are coming.”
“Yup, they’re coming.” Nadine sighs. “I just never thought Karen would be the one with issues, you know? And Al’s the chill one. What fucking universe are we living in?”
“Nadine sounds so upset,” I whisper.
“Well, yeah. I mean, even Grandma thinks it’s fucked up.” Cassie shrugs. “Like, that’s a pretty clear sign we’re wading into some problematic shit.”
“Yeah.” And I get that feeling, all of a sudden, where I could honestly start laughing or crying. It could go either way.
But I guess you have to hand it to Grandma. She has issues with weight, and she’s maybe kind of racist, but she’s never once had a problem with Patty being bisexual. When Patty came out, the first thing Grandma did was try to set her up with the cantor’s daughter. Who is actually straight, but Grandma gets thrown off when women have short hair.
Anyway, Grandma tries. And at least she’d never miss the wedding. Even Uncle Albert would never miss it. I just don’t understand how you could miss your sister’s wedding. If Cassie got married, you’d have to kill me to keep me away. And even then, I’d show up as a zombie. I’d be the Zombie of Honor. I’d lurch down the aisle with my face oozing off and my eyeballs popping out into my bouquet. But I would never, ever miss it. So this Aunt Karen thing doesn’t compute.
Cassie must be thinking the same thing, because she whispers, “You’d never do that.”
“No way.”
“Because I’d kill you,” she says, smiling.
“I’d deserve it.” And I’d still show up!
“And I promise not to blow off your straightsie wedding.”
“Straightsie?” I ask.
“Straightsie. Hetsie.”
“Oh, I like hetsie.”
“Of course you do. It sounds like Etsy.”
I grin. “That’s what I was thinking!”
“Yeah, I know. You’re really predictable. Come on.” She stands up. “Let’s stop hanging out in bathrooms.”
“Me hanging out in bathrooms is the reason you have a girlfriend,” I say.
“Touché.”
I feel this bubble of happiness. It’s nothing, really. Just a moment. But it’s the most normal moment Cassie and I have had all day. Out of nowhere. In the bathroom. Just us being us.
So, maybe we’ll be fine.
I’M UP BEFORE CASSIE, AND I’ve got hours before work, so I heft a bunch of fabric down to the living room. I’m making a garland. I’ve seen them all over Pinterest—scraps of mismatched fabric tied onto a ribbon in colorful strips.
Though I’m having trouble focusing. My mind keeps getting stuck on what Cassie said yesterday. No offense, but do I want to paint fucking mason jars with you and Grandma? Or do I want to hang out with my girlfriend?
It’s just a dumb thing she said when she was angry. And we’re fine now. I should clearly let it go.
But there’s something about being lumped in with Grandma as one of the undesirables. Like I’m an annoying little sister here to rain on Cassie’s parade. It’s just not how twins are supposed to operate.
I try to focus on the crisply satisfying snip of scissors through fabric. I try to be mindful. But my brain is such a whirlpool that I barely notice anything. I don’t even hear Patty’s footsteps until she’s standing above me. “Oh wow. What’s all of this?”
I almost jump. “Hi.”
She pushes a throw pillow aside and perches on the edge of the couch. “Can I see?”
“Sure. Yeah, it’s for the wedding.” I show her a picture on my phone.
“That’s gorgeous.”
“It’s really easy to make. I’ll definitely finish it this week.”
“Perfect.” She makes this sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Less than three weeks, huh?”
“Are you nervous?”
“About being married? Nah. But this wedding thing. Let me tell you.”
I settle in next to her on the couch, feet tucked up. “And the drama with Aunt Karen.”
“Ahh. Yeah. I feel bad for bringing it up in front of you guys.”
“Don’t feel bad. We would have found out anyway.”
“How?”
“Eavesdropping,” I tell her.
“Oh really?” She laughs. Then she presses her hands on her thighs and leans forward, sighing. “Yeah. It’s—you know. It is what it is. Your mom is pretty sad about it.”
“Has she talked to Karen?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I don’t think I could get married without Cassie there,” I say.
“Aw, sweetie.” She sweeps my hair to the side and rubs the back of my neck. “Yeah, it sucks. But it’s just one of those things. And as you get older, it’s not quite so . . .” She trails off, thinking.
“Quite so shitty?”
She smiles faintly. “It’s pretty shitty. It really is. This stuff is incredibly hard.” She tilts her head. “But it’s not quite so raw. You know, when you’re seventeen, everything feels like the end of the world. Or the beginning of the world. And that’s an awesome thing.”