There’s a long beat of silence on Harlow’s end. My sister isn’t great with surprises, particularly ones that have to do with the family and especially ones that have to do with me. I quickly add, “A good thing, I think.” Then I say the words she loves more than any other. “I need your advice.”
“Oh my God, where are you?”
“Just pulling in.”
She’s at my front door and turns as I pull into my driveway.
She holds up a bag and grins. It’s clearly a to-go bag from the bar downtown, the Come Again. I’m not sure what’s inside the bag, but it doesn’t matter. All the food is good, and I know Harlow will have ordered curly fries.
Since I was hoping to eat frozen pizza and tater tots with David, and I left all the food there for him, I haven’t eaten yet, and my stomach rumbles happily at the idea of seasoned curly fries dipped in the Come Again’s secret sauce.
I meet my sister on the porch. “You have perfect timing. I’m starving.”
“Awesome. Is everything okay?” she asks as she pulls me in for a hug.
I smile and let her squeeze me. The most important thing in life to Harlow is that all of us are okay all the time. We’re not, of course. But we try our best to only let her know when things are really bad. At which time she gets upset because we didn’t tell her sooner. Then we promise to do better, she promises to stop worrying so much, and we all go back to doing things the way we always have and never really change.
My family isn’t perfect, but our intentions are good.
“Yeah. I just have an interesting story for you,” I say as she releases me, and I can unlock the door and let us in.
She actually gives a little squeal. “I love interesting stories.”
Yes, yes, she does.
I decide to give her another little bit. “And…it’s about a guy.”
I turn as Harlow freezes in the doorway to my house.
“Shut up,” she says, her eyes wide.
I laugh. “Seriously.”
“A guy and you?”
I nod and smile, kicking my shoes off and padding into the kitchen to grab plates.
“Mia!” Harlow is hot on my heels. “Spill!”
I hand her two plates, and she dumps out grilled chicken sandwiches and curly fries.
“Let’s sit down,” I say. “It’s a long story.”
“Oh my god.” She’s actually bouncing a little as we reheat the food in the microwave, then settle around my little kitchen table with our plates and sodas.
And I proceed to tell her everything about the previous night.
Even the parts she won’t like. Like the fact that I was out by myself, where there were wild animals, where I got a flat tire, and there was a tornado.
She lets me just talk. She doesn’t eat even one fry.
When I’m done, I dip a fry, pop it in my mouth, and chew, waiting for her reaction.
She takes a deep, dramatic breath, and says, “Okay, you’re sitting in front of me, completely fine, and David was the one who showed up to help you, so I am going to skip over all of the dangerous shit and not lecture you about any of that.”
I nod and pop another fry in my mouth. “And not tell Mom and Dad.”
She narrows her eyes. “I promise not to tell Mom and Dad if you swear you won’t go anywhere else alone, outside of town anyway, until you have a new phone.”
