Rock Bottom Girl(51)

I couldn’t imagine this scarecrow of a man was very comfortable in Zinnia’s double bed. His legs probably hung off the mattress up to the knee.

“It’s quite lovely. Thank you.” He stared pointedly at the slow cooker. We all did.

“Would you like to join us for dinner?” I offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” he said, now eyeing the bottle of wine. I recognized that look. Hope.

“It’s no problem,” I told him.





My parents shoveled the pork roast and vegetables into their faces as if their last meal had been Styrofoam six days ago. Apparently none of their retirement hobbies had translated into any skills in the kitchen.

Byron ate daintily with a fork in one hand and knife in the other, looking up every bite to gaze lovingly around the table.

“So, Marley,” Dad said around a mouthful of broccoli. “How’s the soccer team coming?”

“We’re doing okay. We still have no offense to speak of, but I think I might have solved that problem this afternoon.”

“Did you go Tonya Harding on the opposing team’s offensive line?” Mom asked.

“No. But I did find a ringer. Fingers crossed she shows up tomorrow.”

Byron immediately crossed his pinky and ring fingers and smiled broadly.

“Good for you,” Mom said. “Now, when were you going to tell us that you’re dating Jake Weston?”

I choked on my wine. Tears glassed over my eyes as the merlot burned its way into my lungs.

“And for God’s sake,” my mother plowed on as she shoveled more pork onto her plate, “why didn’t you at least invite him in for breakfast this morning?”

“I, er…” I couldn’t tell them the truth. Neither one of them could keep a secret. They’d practically handed Zinnia and me itemized inventories of our Christmas presents in November because they were too excited to keep quiet. By the time Christmas Day rolled around, the wrapping was purely ceremonial.

Byron was stuffing dainty bites of pork into his mouth and watching the conversation like a tennis match.

“Jake Weston?” Dad asked. “Is he the one with the mustache or the one who covers the rust spots on his Volvo with NPR bumper stickers?”

“Neither,” my mother said. “He’s the one who got caught making out with a substitute teacher in the darkroom his junior year.”

“He’s the cross-country coach, Dad,” I said, pointedly reminding them that some of us grew up. “And history teacher.”

“Oh. Who’s the guy with the Volvo?” he asked.





My parents and Byron, weirdly enough, insisted on handling clean up. So I packed up a dish of leftovers for lunch tomorrow and headed upstairs to work my way through Jake’s Coaching Appendix videos and some of the volumes of team mentality that my sister had sent in drips and trickles since the weekend.

Before I could boot up my laptop, my phone rang.

Zinnia. I hated the fact that just my sister’s name on my screen dulled the good feelings that had bloomed inside me.

I accepted the call, and Zinnia’s beautiful face filled the screen. She wore her dark hair long and straight in a glossy curtain. Her lips were painted a shade of ruby that I could never in a million years pull off. Her thick eyebrows were waxed and groomed into perfection.

“Hey, sis,” she said.

“Hey, Zin. How’s life?”

She gestured around her, and I could see that she was still in her office. The Washington, D.C. skyline stretched on behind her through the windows of her thirteenth-floor corner office. “Considering I feel like I haven’t left this place in three weeks, good. Rumor has it my husband and children are still alive. How’s Culpepper? Are you settling in?”

“Everything’s fine,” I told her. I hated giving Zinnia the details of my day. It all seemed so trivial to what she spent her time doing. “Save any war-torn orphans lately?” I asked.

“Ha. Some. I hear you and Jake Weston just signed a relationship contract.”

I flopped down on the bed. “How in the hell did you hear that?”

“The Culpepper grapevine is as deep as it is wide,” she laughed. “So what’s that all about?” It dented my feelings just a bit to know that Zinnia knew me well enough to know that me and Jake dating was a little too good to be true. But at least she could keep a secret.

“It was kind of an accident. There was some drama with the boys soccer coach and another teacher, and Jake got involved, and one thing led to another, and we told the administration that we’re kinda sorta dating.”

“Only you, Marley,” Zinnia laughed.

Yeah. Only me.

Zinnia was my older sister. By nine months. However, her unfair brainiac advantage and maturity had leapfrogged her ahead of me in school in the fourth grade. As much as it had chafed, it had also been a relief. Not having to share the same playing field with her. Not comparing apples to apples.

“Is he still gorgeous?” she asked.

“Oh my God. Take senior year Jake and multiply him times one thousand. Stubble. Tattoos. More muscles.”

Zinnia spooned up something exotic from a takeout container and chewed thoughtfully. “I’m going to need some photographic proof,” she decided.