Chapter Ten
Dominic
Sixty-seven minutes. That’s how long my sister’s been staring at nothing, even though she has a math textbook spread out on the dining table.
“Earth to Kristen,” I say dryly, waving a hand in front of her eyes.
She starts, then looks up. “What?”
“I asked you if you wanted the leftover pasta for dinner three times now.”
“Oh.” She sighs, then glances at the TV, which is currently turned off. She kicks her backpack halfheartedly, then sighs again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Yeah, right. She’s been sighing ever since she came back from school. A subtle teen, she is not. “You’re a terrible liar. Come on.”
“Diego asked me to the prom.”
I’m about to say, “That’s great,” then catch myself. Maybe she doesn’t like Diego. Or he’s a creep. So instead, I say, “And…?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I want to go.”
What the hell kind of response is that? “Why not?” If Diego’s a pervy asshole, I’m going to do something brotherly and protective. Like beat the shit out of him until he’ll never even think of asking her out again.
“Nothing.” Kristen sighs again.
Just then Liza walks in, her step bouncy. She looks delicious in a bright purple sundress and heels. We’ve been together for three months, and she now spends more time at my place than hers.
We exchange a quick kiss. I want more…but my sister’s watching.
Kristen gazes up at Liza like she’s an angel who’s come down to save her. “Thank God. Hi!”
“Hi.” Liza’s eyes dart back and forth between me and Kristen. “What’s going on?”
“Kristen doesn’t want to go to the prom,” I say. “She already has a date, by the way.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing,” Kristen mumbles miserably.
After studying my sister for a moment, Liza taps a corner of her mouth. “When’s your prom?”
“Next month. Not a lot of time left for shopping. All the good stuff is taken.” A shrug. “You know.”
“Hmm. You’re right.”
Kristen’s voice grows smaller. “I know. I’m always right.”
It hits me that Diego isn’t the problem. She’s worried about the cost of attending the prom—the dress, shoes, everything. She doesn’t have anything she can wear to the dance, and although I’ve never shopped for girl stuff like this, I’m sure an outfit won’t be cheap.
Ugh. I’m such an idiot.
Then I feel like a failure. When I took legal custody of my sister, it was to give her the kind of warm, supportive environment she deserves. Instead she’s worried about money. It’s partially my fault for being so open about our finances. I assumed it’d help her feel more included to be informed.
I take half a step forward. “Look, Kristen, it’s—”
Liza puts a hand on my arm. “But that shouldn’t keep you from going. I have tons of dresses you can borrow if you want. We’re about the same size, so one of them should work. And most of them are classic.”
Kristen looks uncertain. “Are you sure? I mean, they’re your dresses.”
“I’m sure. Some of them I only wore once, and I really need to get my money’s worth, you know? I’ll bring a few tomorrow.” Liza smiles.
Kristen jumps from her chair and throws herself at Liza, who hugs her back with a soft laugh. My heart leaps, achingly full of tenderness and gratitude.
And then and there, I know Liza is the only girl for me. There’s no way I can feel this way for another woman because I’ve given one hundred percent of my heart to her.
The next day, Liza shows up with seven dresses, much to Kristen’s delight. I stay out of the way—what do I know about female fashion? I trust Liza’s going to dress my baby sister appropriately.
A phone call an hour later drags Liza home—causing me great disappointment since I want to tell her about the letter I got from OWM about my internship—but Kristen doesn’t seem to notice. She hops around, vibrating with excitement.
“Did you see what she brought?” she squeals.
“I was here the whole time doing research for my papers.” I have three due in the next two weeks.
“The best one is the blue dress—I think you’ll approve—and it’s a Versace! She told me I could wear it to the prom if I want!” The hops get higher. “Versace!”
I tilt my head. I don’t know much about fashion, but I’m not totally ignorant. How can Liza afford a Versace? She works at a café, drives a modest car, wears inexpensive clothes and carries cheap purses.
Maybe she saves all her money for pricey dresses.
Or maybe she has a magic hand with clearance sales. It is possible. Kristen picks up a lot of designer items cheap that way.
Kristen continues breathlessly, “I saw it in Vogue last month, and holy shit, I’m going to make everyone super jealous.”
“Lemme see.”
She dashes to put it on. It’s a stunning dress, modestly cut and made with soft, expensive-feeling material. I can see why Kristen’s thrilled, but…
Vogue?
I’ve seen some of that stuff because Kristen likes to shove the magazine in my face from time to time, and none of the featured items are affordable. Vogue is for people who have way too much money and can’t think of anything better to do with it than buy frivolous junk.
“The other dresses Liza brought… Were they all like this one?” I ask.
Kristen nods vigorously. “Yeah. I mean, they’re different colors and cuts, but they’re all amazing. It was sooooo hard trying to decide between the Versace and an Armani she brought. Oh my God, I’d love to see her closet.”
A cold sliver of unease pricks my gut. Liza mentioned her father being busy with his business. Maybe he bought them for her to make up for neglect. I’ve seen plenty of kids in classes with guilt presents—overly expensive and overly flashy. But something about this situation makes me to feel like I just divided an even number by two and ended up with a remainder.