I grab her hand before she pulls out that chunk of hair. “There will be no cows or Tongan babies. I promise. But I’m doing this.”
She takes to biting her lip instead. I’m not stopping that one. “Okay, just update me every five minutes when you’re out with him, so I know you’re safe.”
I smile, trying to help her calm down. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. You can track my phone the whole night if you want. Deal?”
She nods, though I can tell she doesn’t want to. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I pull her in for a quick hug and thank the blessed online dating site who set my dope of a brother up with this angel. I didn’t realize how much I needed a sister in my life until she came along.
Dinner is a loud occasion at the Bentley home. It’s not just my brothers, though. It’s grandma too.
“And then I told that evil old witch I’d be visiting her in hell.”
“Alright, Mom. I think you’ve had enough eggnog.” Dad says, but it hardly stops him, or anyone else, from laughing at grandma’s stories from the assisted living community.
She is so sharp she could probably tell different stories for three straight hours without repeating one. Which she often does.
I hope when I’m her age, I’ll be able to tell my grandkids how exciting I used to be. I will have to do something exciting first.
“Grant, dear, how’s your dad doing?” My mom asks, and the room goes still. She asks him this once about every six months, to be polite I’m sure, but we all hate it.
“He’s fine,” Grant says. He’s given the same response for the past six years.
“That’s good,” Mom says, completely not reading the room. “I keep meaning to invite him over. Maybe for Christmas dinner.”
My blood turns to ice, and I look at Grant, who is staring holes into his plate. “Yeah, maybe.”
He’s been around our family long enough to know exactly what to say to get people off his back, but I still hate that he has to do that. I can see it on his face every time his family is mentioned. I can practically feel the deep void in his life known as his parents. He kept quiet all growing up, but he shared just enough for us to know his dad was an aggressive drunk. I know nothing about his mom except that she left when he was a baby.
Grant keeps his eyes on his plate for the rest of dinner, and my heart breaks more for him with each passing second. He should be at his own home, with his own family. But he’ll always have a place in ours.
After dinner, Grant helps with the dishes, like he always does, and then he and my brothers go out back to sit around the pool like they always do. They’re so predictable. Grant still looks upset, though. While the other guys are talking and laughing, he’s barely nodding, and smiling politely.
“Hey, Juliet,” I say, catching her before she goes out back to be with her weird fiancé. “Want to prank the guys?”
“Oh, my gosh, yes.” She puts the drinks she’s holding on the table, and I take her to what we call the “mess room”. Because it will always be a mess. No one cares enough to go through it and clear all this junk out. We just shut the door on it and pretend it doesn’t exist. Mom wishes it didn’t, but the rest of us love it.
“Paintball guns?” I ask, moving to the corner of the room where the more dangerous stuff is.
“Uh, no.” Juliet pulls me back to the baby prank section. “I want children someday.”
I plug my ears, but it’s too late. “Ew. I can’t believe you’d do that to the world.”
“Oh no.” Juliet chews on her lip.
“What?” I ask.
“I just realized this crazy Bentley gene is going to transfer to my children.”
I laugh. “If you can’t beat ’em. Join ’em.”
She studies me like I just told her their kids will come out with tails. They shouldn’t, but one can never be too sure. “Okay, what about paint balloons?”
“That’s so lame,” I mutter. “The last time I was out there they covered me with slime, and then confetti.”
“Okay, so… paint and confetti?”
I shake my head. “Oh Juliet, we have so much to teach you if you’re going to be living with Micheal.”
