SO, NOW MY BRAIN IS a two-color pie graph: one part Reid, one part wedding fever. NOT that I’m fevering over the thought of marrying Reid. I am most decidedly not visualizing myself in wedding dresses. I’ve given literally no thought to the viability of covering a wedding cake in Cadbury Mini Eggs. All obsessive wedding fantasies are wholly dedicated to the wedding that’s happening in my backyard. In a week.
I swear to God, it’s like a switch got flipped. Everything had been relatively calm—until it suddenly wasn’t. I’m pretty sure there’s an anxiety lever somewhere, and someone cranked it to UTTER PANIC FREAKOUT MODE.
That someone is Patty.
Patty, who has her laptop at the breakfast table, open to the ten-day forecast. “They’re saying scattered showers. We should get a tent, right? Just in case? Do you think we need one with full siding? It looks like that’s an option, but we’d probably need to rent fans.”
Nadine boops Xavier on the nose and hands him a sippy cup. “You don’t want to just move everything inside if it rains?”
“You think we can fit thirty-five people in this house?”
Cassie and I eat our cereal in silence. This is strangely like watching reality TV. I can almost picture Patty as a talking head, overlaid with an animated wedding veil and sound effects.
“And Cass, you need to get a dress or pants. You can’t wear shorts to this.”
“Who said I was wearing shorts?” Cassie looks confused.
Nadine shakes her head and shoots Cassie a tiny smile.
“Well, good. Don’t do it.” Patty exhales. “Great. Okay. I just need to call the tent company. And Deenie, you talked to the caterers?”
“Yup. We’re scheduled for Thursday.”
“Okay, we’ve got Olivia on photography—and I’d really like to pay her, by the way.”
Cassie shrugs. “Yeah, she’s not gonna let you.”
“Hey,” pipes Nadine, “don’t let her bring that Schulmeister kid. They’re still broken up, right? Because I do not need my doorstep darkened by that little shitwiper on my wedding day. Nope to the nope.”
Cassie covers her mouth, giggling.
“Anyway, maybe just talk to her about payment, if you don’t mind. And Molly, you’ve got all the decorations under control, right?”
“Right.”
She rubs her temple. “I know I’m forgetting something.” She looks at Nadine. “What am I forgetting?” Then she proceeds to sit down where there isn’t a chair.
“Mama,” says Xav. “Uh-oh!”
Cassie and I exchange wide-eyed holy shit expressions.
“Okay. I’m taking over,” Nadine says. “You.” She points to Cassie. “Deal with Olivia. And you.” She turns to me. “Centerpieces. And one of you needs to be ready to wrangle your grandmother. I don’t need Betty stirring shit up.”
“Oh my God,” Cassie says. “Nadine, you’re a stone-cold ’zilla.”
“Damn straight.”
“Oh,” Patty says. “Molly, are you bringing the boy?”
“Wait, what?” Cassie asks. She turns to me, eyes glinting.
“Um.”
“You can bring him,” she says, rubbing her forehead. “That’s totally fine. I just need to know by Friday.”
Cassie jabs me with her elbow. “The boy?”
I bite back a smile.
“The fuck, Molly?”
“I love these heartwarming family moments,” Nadine says. “Anyway.” She turns to Patty. “You’re done. Go take a nap.”
Patty nods dazedly and heads for the stairs.
Nadine and Xavier head out to storytime, leaving Cassie and me alone in the dining room. For a minute, neither of us speaks.
Then Cassie looks at me. “There’s a boy?” she asks. And there’s something in her voice. Maybe wonder, maybe anger. I don’t know.
I shrug. I feel myself blushing.
“How could you not tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Jesus. I’m your twin fucking sister.”
I meet her eyes finally. “Well, I didn’t think we were on speaking terms.”
“Well, we weren’t.”
I laugh nervously. “Well, okay.”
“But I’m over it, okay? We’re talking. Tell me about the boy.” She slides her elbows forward, cupping her chin in her hands.
“Um. What do you want to know?”
Cassie smiles and rolls her eyes. “Uh, let’s start with this: Who is he?”
I blush. “Reid.”
She laughs.
“What?”
“No, it’s just the least surprising thing ever.”
“Oh.”
“So what’s the deal? You guys kissed? He’s your boyfriend? What?”
“Yes.” I grin into my sleeve.
“What?” She swipes my arm. “Wait, which one?”
“Both.”
Her mouth falls open.
I swipe her back. “Stop looking so surprised.”
“I’m not. I’m just excited. This is a huge deal, Mo.” She scoots closer to me and hooks an arm around my shoulders. “Holy shit. You have a boyfriend.”
“And you have a girlfriend.”
“I know. It’s weird.” Then she rests her head on my shoulder and sighs.
And for a moment, we just sit there.
“God, I feel like we have so much to talk about,” I say. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Definitely,” she says.
Then she lifts her head off my shoulder. When I open my eyes, she’s staring down at the table, lips pressed together.
“Okay, I want to say something to you,” she says after a moment. She slides her arm off my shoulders and wrings her hands together. “So, I don’t know how to say this without pissing you off or hurting your feelings, but I need you to hear me out. I’m just going to put it all out there, okay?”
My shoulder muscles tighten—I feel myself getting defensive. But I try to shake it off. “Okay.”
She bites her lip and nods. “So, I feel like things have been kind of off between us since I started dating Mina.”
I nod.
“Right? I’m not imagining it?”
I swallow. “No.”
“And, like, I have to admit, it really pissed me off at first. Because I could not understand why you couldn’t just be happy for me.”
“I am, though! I’m so happy for you.”
“I know, but it’s also like you think Mina’s replacing you.”
“No, that’s not . . .” I look up at her. “I don’t think that.”
“But you said that,” Cassie insists. “At the party. You said I was ditching you for Mina.”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not trying to make you apologize. I’m just saying, I think we should talk about this. I don’t think this is just going to go away, you know? Maybe it will be better now that Reid’s in the picture, but . . .”
I shut my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Honestly, it’s getting to the point where every thing I do, I’m worrying about how you’re going to take it. Like, I don’t want to be that person who gets into a relationship and ignores everyone else. We hate that person.”
“You’re not—”
“And I’m trying really hard, you know? I feel like you don’t give me any credit for that. I invite you to everything. The sleepover, the party, the fucking pottery place. Everything.”
I feel nauseated, and I don’t know why. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know!” She throws her hands up. “I know I don’t. But I want to.”
“I don’t want to be a person you have to tiptoe and walk on eggshells around.”
“No, Molly, you’re not.” She shakes her head. “You’re not. It’s just I’m having trouble balancing this. I’m not used to having another person be this important to me.”
She’s staring at her knees, tears pooling in her eyes.
“And I don’t want to lose us, you know?”
I feel my eyes prickle, too. Everything’s a little blurry. I can’t seem to focus. I press my fist into my chin.
“I’m scared it’s inevitable,” I say finally.
“What do you mean?”
“Growing apart. Look at Nadine and Aunt Karen.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little different? Aunt Karen is a homophobe.”
“No, I know. But still.” I swallow. “How many sisters do you know who are as close as adults as they were growing up?”
“Well, I don’t know many adult sisters . . . ,” Cassie says, smiling faintly.
“You know what I mean, though. It’s like, we used to tell each other all of this stuff. Who we liked, or hooked up with, or whatever. But then there’s this shift. It’s like our loyalties switch over, and the relationship becomes the main thing.”
“Okay, we haven’t switched over our loyalties—”
“But we will.” I take a deep breath. “Even if it’s not with Mina and Reid. Eventually. It’s the normal thing that happens. You don’t marry your siblings.”
“Yeah, that would be a smidge incestuous,” Cassie says.
“Just a smidge.”
She laughs, and then sniffs.
“I mean, obviously, you’re right,” Cassie says finally. “And I guess that’s kind of why I wanted the Will thing to happen. Like, maybe if we dated best friends, it wouldn’t be like that for us.”
“Right.”
“But . . . Will’s a no-go, huh?”
I shake my head, smiling.
“So, what do we do?” Cassie asks.
“I don’t know.”
She sniffs again. I look over at her, and there are tears streaking down her cheeks. “Shut up. This is sad,” she says, smiling wetly.
“I know.”
“Change is fucking hard. It’s fucking tragic.”
“Change can go fuck itself,” I say, and I like how it sounds on my tongue. Fuck itself. It catches Cassie off guard. She laughs so hard, she can barely catch her breath.
And all of a sudden, I can’t help but wonder: are the ancestors tuned in to this moment? And do they get it?
I bet they do.
Because that’s the thing about change. It’s so painfully normal. It’s the most basic of all tragedies. Sisters in the Paleolithic period probably felt shitty about this stuff.
And it’s weird how I can know this, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.