Too late, my parents’ whoops and hollers make me rethink this foolish lie. I can’t very well add, “As my boss” now and pretend that’s what I meant all along. But at least this dumb situation is contained to the three of us. Best of all, two of us are currently on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.
When we finally hang up on choruses of “Tell Reed hi,” I collapse sideways onto the extra-firm couch. This is fine. Making up a boyfriend for her parents’ sake is a totally normal thing for an adult woman to do. That’s how you know you’re killing it at life.
I press my face into a throw pillow to muffle my scream. Just a little one. Because everything’s going to be fine. Yes. It’s all going to be A-OK.
Tilting my head so my mouth is free, I shout at the ceiling. “This is all your fault, Cat-Reed!”
He doesn’t respond. He’s probably thrilled my stomach’s all twisted up in knots. Because he hates me.
Just like Man-Reed will if he ever finds out about this.
4
reed
I’m lockedin a stare-down with my niece, and I don’t think I’m winning. I might have perfected my “go away” face, but Jovie’s always had mad puppy-dog-eye skills. She can wheedle any of us into practically anything, and she knows it.
I can handle running around the yard with her on my back like a jockey. I can handle letting her practice using nail polish even though I wind up with multi-colored fingertips. I can even handle watching her favorite TV show about friends and their magical cookbook.
But I have to draw the line somewhere.
She stands in front of me in my parents’ living room, waggling a board game box in front of her to entice me. Her dark blonde hair is tangled from a day of running wild, her green eyes sparkling to prove she’s not worn out yet. She tilts her head to the side, batting her eyelashes. “Please, Uncle Reed? Please?”
The last “please” goes on so long, I worry she’s going to strain something.
I slowly shake my head. “I’m not playing Risk.”
She lifts her eyebrows, exaggerating her pleading face. “Why not?”
“I don’t have eight hours for a board game right now.”
“You don’t look busy.”
I’m sitting in an armchair, one ankle propped on my knee after Sunday dinner. After this, I might go back to my cabin and toss a line in the river for a while. “I’m extremely busy.”
Nathan throws himself to the end of the couch closest to us, sprawling across all the cushions. “Plus, we have bad memories about that game. We played once and we both got grounded for two weeks.”
Jovie wrinkles her nose as if his story doesn’t add up. “Grandma grounded you for playing a game?”
“Nope. For fist-fighting in the middle of the game.”
She giggles, but gets serious again. “I promise not to hit either of you.”
“You’re very generous,” I tell her. “Go pick something else.”
She gives me her best stink-eye before flouncing away, bopping the box against her legs with each step and shaking all the pieces inside to remind me what I’m missing out on.
I know exactly what I’m missing out on: frustration and misery.
Graham slides Nathan’s legs off the couch, and they each take an end. “Smart work avoiding Risk,” he says to me.
“If she comes back with Trivial Pursuit, that’s a you problem.”
Graham is the genius among us, taking after our dad with his giant brain crammed full of ideas and information. Why he decided to teach high school science instead of making jet engines or spaceships is beyond me.
Probably the same reason Dad took over Granddad’s hardware store instead of chasing after his dreams of mechanical innovation. Family had a stronger pull.
“Hey, you guys are doing coffee at the concert thingy this week, right?” Nathan asks.