“What do you mean?”
Dad shrugged. “An accident. One of us gets sick. Anything. You’re so far away.”
“It doesn’t take long by plane,” I said.
“That’s not cheap.”
He was right, of course. It wasn’t cheap to get a ticket for a flight from LA to Ohio on short notice. What he didn’t know, and what I couldn’t tell them, was that I wouldn’t have to buy a ticket. Max would fly me home in a heartbeat.
He dropped the issue, probably just thinking of his next line of attack. Mom had stayed silent while Dad and I discussed the distance issue, but when she picked up when he stopped.
“You haven’t been back to Las Vegas, I hope?”
“I go there every weekend.”
Mom looked at me in shock. Dad cut his eyes at me.
“I’m kidding,” I said.
Grace handed me the baby, who looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, thinking how nice it was to have at least one relative who wasn’t judging me.
“They’re just worried about you,” Grace said a little later.
“I know, but it gets old.”
“I’m worried about you, too, you know. Especially after that whole thing with Chris.”
“He’s gone,” I said. “And I doubt he’ll be back.”
We were in the adjacent hotel room. Mom and Dad had gone to bed, the baby was asleep, and it was getting close to 11:00.
“I know you are, but seriously, Grace, wouldn’t you rather be here? I mean, you saw the city. There’s never a boring minute here.”
“Maybe I like boring.”
That couldn’t be more true. And it couldn’t have made me more sad for her. Yes, I was being judgmental, but I’d been on the receiving end of judgment myself for too long.
Grace said, “So, what’s up with Krystal?”
Jesus. What a topic. One that I didn’t want to talk about. One that would only confirm that she and my parents were right about this probably being a bad scene for me. One that would give them the wrong impression about how wonderful things were really going when you considered everything with Max.
I said, “I hardly ever see her. She’s always working at that restaurant or going to casting calls.” There. I lied. But I had to. And it worked. She moved on to something else.
“What do you do when you’re not working?” she asked.
I could have answered truthfully with the one-liner that popped into my head: When I’m not working, I do Max. But that was a little joke I had to keep to myself.
I gave her a generic response—hanging out with friends, still trying to see all of the city and the surrounds, going to the gym….
“Have you met any boys yet?”
Boys.
I must have hesitated just slightly too long because I clearly gave away the answer.
We were lying on the bed. I was on my back, she was on her stomach, and when she sensed I had something juicy to tell, she flipped over on her side to face me.
“Ohhh, you have. Do tell.”
So I told. Even about the trip to Napa. But not about New York.
“And…remember when I told you that someone saved me from Chris that night at my apartment door?”
“Yeah. A neighbor, but…it was this guy?”
I nodded.
“Wow.”
“I know. And I’m sorry I lied to you about him.”
“Don’t worry about it. So, what movies has he done?”
I told her, and she recognized a couple of them. She liked one of them so much, she had a DVD of it at home.
She was silent for a moment. Then another, “Wow,” but this time softer, like she was trying to imagine what it would be like to live her younger sister’s life. “You look happy, but…you kind of also don’t.”
Shit. She could read me well.
“It’s just that I’m pretty sure he’s serious about me, but I’m afraid that I feel more than he does. You know?”
“Have you brought it up with him?”
“Oh, God no.”
“Why not?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. When I thought about this, my chest got tight and my stomach churned.
“I don’t want to push things too fast,” I said.
She nodded. “So, have you slept with him?”
“Yes.” I closed my eyes.
“Then it’s serious.”
Sometimes Grace could be really rational and insightful. Sometimes she could be really naïve. And sometimes she could be both of those things at almost the same time.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“What does he look like?”
I got my phone out of my bag to do a Google Image search. I’d had it on mute all night, and when I swiped the screen I saw that I had missed a text from Max.
It read: I’m coming to get you.
“Hang on,” I said to Olivia. “Have to text somebody back.”
“Him?”
“Yeah.”
I texted: What!?
Max: That was a joke and it was two hours ago.
Me: You couldn’t find me anyway.
Max: You underestimate me.
Me: I know. It’s a bad habit.
Max: Please keep doing it. Makes it easier to impress you.
Me: So you weren’t really coming to get me?
Max: No. My dreams will have to suffice tonight.
Me: Awwww.
Max: Did you just see a puppy?
Me: What?
Max: ‘Awwww’? People say that when they see a puppy or a baby. I was hoping you would say ‘I’ll make it up to you’.
Me: I’ll make it up to you.
Max: Awwww.
Me: Haha! I have to get back to talking to my sister. By the smile on my face she might assume the worst.
Max: She’d be smart to. Talk to you tomorrow. Miss you.
Me: Me too.
I closed the texts and pulled up the browser, went to Google Images and found a picture of Max.
“Here. This is him.”
I handed her my phone.
She looked at the picture, then looked at me, then back at the picture. “Get out of here. You’re seeing this hottie?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” She burst out laughing. “That came out wrong. It’s just…wow, he’s gorgeous.”
“And nice, and funny, and kind-hearted, generous, interesting, exciting, creative—”
She interrupted: “Honest?”
“Yeah. Well, except for this one thing.” I told her about Liza Carrow.
“I see why he didn’t tell you right away, though.”