Page 32 of Clint & Ivy
“Because I was a different person in each one. I picked names that would fit that person.”
“But deep down, aren’t you really just one person?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Well, which of those people would pick orange shoes?”
“The rebellious one who wanted to piss off her mom.”
“Then, perhaps, she’s the real you.”
Ivy considered my words, wearing a faraway expression like she’d left me and gone back to the mansion. I saw her working through a few things before she suddenly smiled.
“What if I wanted to name our daughter Buffy?”
Smiling, I shrugged. “I had a good solid guy name growing up, but I don’t think that made me a better person. Like, if I had been named ‘Sue’ like the angry man in the Johnny Cash song, I suspect I’d be the same guy I am now. I’d probably have a nickname, but otherwise, I’d be me. I don’t think names matter that much.”
“I read that people with more traditional names did better in life.”
“One of the most successful people I know is named Tallulah. She ping-ponged back and forth between owning her nickname Lula and wanting to seem more traditional. In the end, she stopped fussing over what didn’t matter and decided she wanted to be Lula again. Her dad still calls her Tallulah. He insists Lula sounds like a poodle’s name, but the rest of us call her Lula.”
“And she’s a member of the club and its lawyer?”
Nodding, I explained, “I’ve heard other lawyers refer to her as The Blair Witch because if you get on her bad side, she’ll wear you down until you go mad. I don’t know about all that. I’ve only known her as my older cousin who was smart and sweet. Sure, she can fight, but she isn’t prone to it like her sisters.”
Ivy fell silent as her fingers slid through Hanzee’s coat. I watched her try to piece together the world she’d only known through entertainment.
“Once you have a life in Little Memphis outside this condo, it’ll be easier for you to know yourself,” I promised Ivy. “I used to think I’d like horseback riding. It seemed a lot like riding a motorcycle, but I hated every moment I was on that animal. So, what you imagine in your head isn’t necessarily real. That’s why you need to be patient. In a week, you’re bound to know more about yourself.”
Ivy opened her mouth to ask if I’d like who she turned out to be. I saw on her face how that was her immediate concern. Her lips clamped shut as she recalled what I told her about the universe and soulmates.She and I were meant to be.
For the rest of the morning, Ivy and I kept busy by watching TV since I sensed she missed her shows.
Just before lunch, Elle texted, “Come over early. Shay and Ford are on edge. At this rate, they’ll be banging by the time you guys arrive for dinner. Be a big brother and keep them apart long enough to feed me and my innocent, hungry child.”
“Isn’t Sutter at school?”
“No, he woke up with a bad case of Boogie Fever, so I kept him home to entertain me. Does that make me a bad mom?”
Choosing not to get suckered into her trap, I replied, “I’m supposed to bring dinner.”
“Well, golly gee, big bro, feel free to bring food for lunch and order something for dinner,” she texted.
By the time Ivy and I were at the truck with Hanzee, Elle had added, “The best prescription for Boogie Fever is boneless wings. Hawaiian, parmesan, and sweet chili would hit the spot.”
“My sister doesn’t cook despite having taken classes with a few of the foxes,” I explained to Ivy. “She just won’t do it. She claims timing the various dishes is too difficult. I’ve never once eaten anything she’s made. Though Sutter claimed she often makes him boxed mac and cheese.”
“I know how to cook,” Ivy said, offering a proud little smile. “I learned to make soups when Uncle Dwight could only eat soft foods.”
I was startled by the sudden sadness in Ivy’s voice. I stopped pulling the truck out of my garage spot and reached over to stroke her cheek. She offered me a tight, slightly panicked smile, as her past nipped at her heels again.
Keeping Ivy’s mind busy, I pointed out various locations on our drive to my parents’ house. When we sat in the truck and waited for our large order of wings and fries, I told her about my high school years. Mostly, how I walked around too cool for the classes.
“I could have been the star of the football team or an ace student,” I bragged, chuckling at the memory. “But I wouldn’t lower myself to hang out with the jocks or take extracurricular classes with the nerds.”
Ivy smiled softly. “Do your parents have your high school pictures on their wall?”
“Yes, they do,” I replied, grinning at her hopeful expression. “There’s also a super goofy one of Elle in the hallway. If she ever gives you grief, you need to keep that picture in mind.”
