Not Today, But Someday(11)

A few minutes after Mom left us to cook dinner, Jen followed her into the kitchen, leaving me alone with her boyfriend.

“Jen says you like to draw,” he says eagerly. He leans forward, as if anxious to hear my response. A medallion swings from a heavy gold rope chain as he moves. It sits atop the neckline of his t-shirt, but I can still see thick, dark hair from his chest. Every once in awhile, he runs his fingers through slicked-back hair, and I just wonder what in the world my sister sees in him.

“I don’t,” I tell him simply. “I like to create things. Collages, stationery, CD covers, stuff like that.”

“Well, that sounds interesting. Tell me about the best thing you’ve done.”

I shrug my shoulders as if I can’t decide, but I know my response immediately. “I did the program for our school play a few months ago.”

“What was so good about it?”

“It was hand-assembled. We used really nice paper on the inside, and the outside of it was, like, almost fabric. I designed all the pieces, and the whole cast had a party assembling them one night before the performance. No two were alike.” I enjoyed the project not just for the piece that I produced, but the lock-in with my brother and so many of our friends had been one of the funnest nights of my life.

“Do you have one?”

“I have about ten. Did you want to see?”

“Maybe later,” he says. “Is that what you want to do after school?”

“What, glue together paper? I’m not sure that’s a career.”

“Sure it is!” Josh says. “Graphic design. You get to do all the things you mentioned you like to do.”

“But I can’t draw.”

“You hire people to draw. Or you teach yourself. It’s not that hard.”

“What are you studying?”

“I studied advertising,” he says. “I graduated two years ago. I work on Madison Avenue.”

“You make commercials?”

“I sell the airtime,” he says. “I’m an Account Executive.”

“How’d you meet Jen?”

“At a bar,” he says with a laugh. “She spilled her drink on me while she was dancing with her friends.”

“That sounds like her,” I smile.

“I care about her a lot,” he tells me.

“Well, good.” They all do, for the few months that they date her. Then she gets bored or finds someone better. I decide not to tell him what he has to look forward to.

“My parents are divorced,” Josh informs me, minutes after neither of us has anything to say.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“It gets better.” I glare at him before getting up and leaving the room. I ignore the apology he gives as I walk upstairs.

“Emi,” my sister says, barging into my room. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

“What? He started talking about how his parents aren’t together. Sorry, but that’s not something that interests me.”

“Well, sometimes people talk about things you may not like, but you don’t just stomp up to your bedroom and avoid it entirely. He was just trying to be relatable.”

“I can’t relate to that guy. He looks smarmy.”

“Well, I love him.”

“Right.”

“I do, Emi. He’s asked me to marry him.”

“What?!” I ask, completely taken aback. Two months ago, she was with a different guy. “Why, are you pregnant?” I ask sarcastically. Her eyes shift slightly, briefly, but she can’t recover from her innate response. “You are?”

“Emi, do not tell Mom yet. We’re going to break the news to her gradually.”

“Are you going to finish school?”

“Eventually,” she says.

“Dad’s gonna kill you.”

“Nope,” she says. “I already told him. He’s going to pay for the wedding.”

“Even though you’re pregnant?”

“Can you keep it down? This apartment’s tiny and I don’t want Mom to hear that part. Not tonight.”

“Because you know she will kill you.”

“I know she’s not going to be happy about it... and I know she doesn’t need anything more to stress her out right now. I want to give her a few weeks to get settled here... give you a few weeks to stop being a little spoiled brat and making her worry needlessly because you have to throw your silent tantrums.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do. Try to make this work, Emi. Do it for her.”

“I want Dad to know how much he’s ruined my life,” I tell her. “I don’t want to make it easy on him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Well, Mom doesn’t deserve what you’re putting her through. If you want to make Dad’s life miserable, go move back in with him. Then you can go back to your little group of drama-freak friends and act out all you want.”

“I have no desire to see him again.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, little sister, but you will have to see him again–”

“Not if I can help it–”

“Then you’ll miss out on my wedding? And lots of things between now and then, because I plan to have him in my life.”