Twelve Steps to Normal(37)

I don’t recognize the bright-yellow wrapper, but I accept it anyway. “Pulparindo?” I say, reading the label.

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s very good.”

I curl the packet into my hand. “Thanks,” I tell him. “For… everything.”

From the way he smiles at me, I can tell he understands.

I think about confronting him about the text to complete at least one of my steps, but my nerves stop me. We walk our separate ways to our cars. Once I’m inside, I unwrap the packaging and tear off a bite. And—it’s not what I expect. The texture is like sandpaper, but the flavors are a mixed medley of sweet, spicy, and tangy.

I send off a quick text.

ME: starbursts still hold the #1 place in my heart

His reply comes quickly. I look over to see if he’s left the parking lot. He hasn’t. His truck is still sitting there.

ALEX: blasphemy.

Then:

ALEX: glad you liked the pan dulce :)

I slide my phone into the cup holder and put my key in the ignition. I find myself enjoying the spicy, sticky sweet taste that lingers on my tongue the rest of the drive home.





THIRTEEN


VOICES ECHO DOWN THE HALL as soon as I step through the door. I wander into the kitchen and find Peach placing something in the oven while my dad chops vegetables beside her. He must have said something funny because she’s laughing, and then he’s laughing. Their heads lean close. It’s all so natural, like they’ve known each other for years.

I wonder just how close they became at the ranch.

It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for my dad to date sporadically when I was younger, but he never committed to anyone. I was always his first priority, he said. No one was around long enough for me to wonder what it’d be like if our family expanded, and that’s not what I want now. Peach seems nice, but shouldn’t he be focused on fixing our relationship?

Another burst of laughter erupts from the kitchen. I can’t remember the last time I heard my dad laugh like that. It might have been when Grams would use words wrong and call e-mails “computer letters” or maybe when he’d pranked me into drinking pickle juice on April Fools’—which I spit out everywhere. Watching their moment, I feel strangely left out.

My dad spots me standing there. “Hey, Goose!”

Peach smiles at me. “You’re right on time. We’re making homemade pizza for dinner.”

I stare at them. Surely they can’t expect me to play along while they slowly take over my normal life.

My dad sets down his knife and looks up at me. “How was Earth Club?”

“Good.” I’m surprised at how easily the lie comes out. I’d texted Lin earlier to apologize for ghosting on the meeting, and she said it was fine as long as I showed for the cleanup on Friday.

Peach sets the timer. “Everything will be ready in about ten minutes.”

She looks so comfortable in our kitchen. It makes my stomach churn. I mumble a quick, “I’m not hungry,” and race upstairs, almost bumping into Nonnie as I round the corner in the hallway.

She’s wearing a blouse patterned with bright green giraffes and her signature turquoise glasses. Her hands adjust the frame of one of our family pictures. Wallis sits next to her, thumping his tail in excitement when he spots me.

“Stay, Wallis,” Nonnie says. Miraculously, he does. “Ha! Wish I’d realized he knew that command this morning.”

I stare at the pictures. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, Wallis knocked into the wall as he was running toward the guest room.” Nonnie waves her hand over the collection of pictures. “I noticed a few were crooked, so I’m realigning them.”

I look at the dozens of frames hung along the wall. It’s funny. They’ve been there for so long that I sometimes forget they exist. Most are of me growing up—toothless kindergarten pictures followed by awkward elementary school photos and overly enthusiastic middle school snapshots.

There are a ton of us as a family. One is from our camping trip in Blanco State Park. Another is from a ski trip my dad and I took a few years back. But so many of Grams. She poses with me after my first ballet recital, where she’d learned how to work a video camera just for that evening. In another, we’re lying side by side in a field of blue bonnets on our road trip to Austin. There’s another of us wearing red, white, and blue at Cedarville’s annual Fourth of July parade.

All my friends had moms who were dependable, but I thought I’d always have Grams. These pictures are another reminder of one more thing I’ve lost.

“Take them down,” I tell Nonnie. Then I say it louder. “The ones of her. Take them down.”

Nonnie follows my stare to the pictures of Grams. Understanding washes over her features. I move past her and Wallis and walk into my room, but she follows me before I have a chance to shut my door.

“Kira?” Her voice is gentle at the edge of my bedroom. “May I?”

I set my book bag down on the ground. I’m too tired to fight her on this, so I shrug and sink down on my bed.

Nonnie walks all the way inside. Wallis takes a tentative step behind her.

“I know it doesn’t help,” she says, “but I’m sorry.”

A tightness squeezes hard in my throat. Slowly, she comes and sits down next to me on the bed. I notice she smells strongly of patchouli and rose petals and hairspray.