Invincible Summer(32)

I have my elbow on Claude’s arm so she totally can’t move, and I’m way across the table from Gideon so I don’t end up with soda on my shirt. Basically, I’m all set, as long as my parents don’t get wrecked. Noah looks like he’s crossing his fingers.

Lucy’s screaming, but none of the surrounding tables are complaining. This is our night, and they know it. They heard the waitress exclaim when she heard we had not one, but two birthdays tonight. “Twins?” she said, laughing.

I definitely pinched Claudia when she smiled at the waitress for too long.

The atmosphere must be getting to Gideon, because he’s really talkative tonight. He reaches across the table to grab my hand and signs today TV and then stops. He has a face he makes when he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say; he pulls his lips in like this somehow keeps him from talking while he thinks.

I say, What?

He frowns, then picks up the crayons the hostess gave him. He still looks like he’s five, so people give him shit like that all the time. He starts drawing on his kid’s menu. It’s clearly, obviously an octopus. Damn, that kid has talent!

I say, “Guys, Gideon can draw.”

Claudia leans over and looks. “Way to go, Gid.”

Gideon shows the picture to me.

“Octopus,” I say, and take his crayon to write the name next to it in big block letters. He looks at it and nods. Not like it means shit to him. I can tell by the way he’s clenching his fists that he wants the sign. That’s such a rare thing. Maybe Claudia really is helping him.

I say, “Claude, do you know the sign for octopus?” God, she doesn’t, and she’s beating herself up for it too.

She bites her lips just like Gid does. Animal eight legs she signs to him.

He nods, hard.

Understand I sign, and he nods, makes a face that looks more like Noah than him, and picks his crayon back up. He’s left-handed; all the brunets are. Figures they’d be the artists. I look at Claudia and Dad, my fellow blonds. What do we do?

We dream while they do.

I put my head on Claudia’s and mingle our hair. “We’re so outnumbered,” I say, and I smile at Dad, but he’s drinking and studying this painting on the wall. Maybe he’ll ask if it’s for sale. He does that sometimes, though he never has any intention of buying. It embarrasses Mom.

“Hmm?” Claude says.

“The hair.”

“We should have a battle,” Noah says, marching two of Gideon’s French fries across his plate. “Blonds against brunets.”

Gideon pokes one of the fries and Noah wiggles it at him.

Claudia laughs. “We’d destroy you.”

Noah’s eyebrows go up. “Oh, yes?”

“Please,” I say. “We have Claudia. We’re unbeatable.”

Claude says, “And you’re pretty damn crafty yourself, Chase.”

Noah says, “Come on! I have Lucy.” “Pssh.” Claudia waves her hand. “Lucy’s a liability. Not to mention Gideon.”


We all watch Gideon draw for a while. The crayon slips out of his hand and he watches it roll away towards our parent. He signs no but doesn’t reach for it, just pouts. Mom and Dad are too busy whispering to each other to listen to us fantasy fight, so I give Gideon back his crayon.

Lucy bangs on the tray of her high chair.

“You can’t even talk to Gideon,” Claudia says. “How would you share battle plans?”

Noah frowns. “Hey, I can talk to him well enough.” He

taps Gideon on the shoulder and holds up I love you. Gideon smiles and does it back, just like we did last night. “There you go,” Noah says.

I say, “You could always get Mom to translate.”

Noah glances at her, the same way we glanced at Lucy during the first few months every time we said her name or dropped a plate on the ground. To see if she was listening. Unlike Lucy, we get nothing out of Mom. Noah shrugs at me a little bit.

To nobody, I say, “I’m sorry Lucy’s birthdays keep being so weird.”

Claudia smiles.

Noah gobbles one of the French fries he’s been playing with and stuffs the other one in Gideon’s mouth. Gideon sticks his potatoey tongue out at Noah. Noah does it back.

He says, “Well, you have Dad on your team, that’s something.”

I laugh. “Yeah, Dad can be tricky.”

“Yes, he can,” Mom says, quietly.

There’s this lull, and I become very aware of the conversations at the other tables. Someone laughs at the next booth, throaty and fake. Ha ha ha.

Claudia says, “Mom?”

Noah glances at Gideon and says, “We’re doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re doing this now. That’s enough.” Dad plunks his glass on the table. “Katie?”

She shakes her head.

And no one says anything.

Ha ha ha.

I’m getting this terrible awful feeling deep in my stomach where nothing but my crab cake is supposed to be. Claudia’s hand on mine is not helping. I really hope I don’t throw up before I find out what the hell is going on.

Mom is still shaking her head, with this look on her face like she doesn’t know what will happen if she stops and she doesn’t want to find out. “We’re not doing this now.”