“What in the hell’s a tea rose? Like miniature roses?” Jameson’s face twists in thought as he finally looks over to me.
“No,” I reply with a laugh. “It’s regular-sized. It’s named that because of the color.”
Jameson nods a couple of times and then taps his forehead with his index finger a few times. “Tea roses,” he repeats.
I stand up as the credits roll and look over to see Jameson sleeping peacefully. He fell asleep well over an hour ago. Each time the surround sound made my sternum vibrate, I expected him to wake up, but he never did.
“He must have lived near a train track or something to sleep through that,”
I joke quietly.
Max smirks and shakes his head as he moves to the front of the room and begins turning things off.
Without the movie, the silence is blaring.
“Thanks for the movie. I’ll … see you around,” I say as I take a few steps toward the staircase. The dim gray light of the screen goes black, and with it the room becomes encased in darkness.
I freeze, feeling my eyes widen working to acclimate so I can navigate the short distance without running into a gaming table I know is close by. Unfortunately there aren’t any windows in the cavernous room, so even as I will my eyes to focus and see what’s in front of me, nothing exposes itself.
The lights by the stairs flicker on and I realize Max somehow passed by me. Apparently he’s some sort of stealth ninja.
I pass in front of where he stands at the base of the stairs, catching a hint of sweetness and spice that follows Max.
I glance down at the pair of jeans I threw on before coming over. They’re one of my favorite pairs, which offers me a small bit of relief since I’m all too aware Max is directly behind me.
I round the top step I turn to the foyer and open the front door, stepping out into the muggy evening.
“Did I make you feel easy?” His words reach me as I hit the driveway, and I turn in surprise. My mind races to think of a casual way of answering as I briefly study his face and see the same expression that I’d seen the other night, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“We don’t really know each other,” I say, lifting a shoulder as I continue walking backwards. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m sorry, I guess I just figured you’d like him.”
I stop at the shrubs separating our yards and shake my head. “I don’t, but even if I did, I wouldn’t go sleep with him.” I glance back to my dark house. “Bye, Max.”
“Why? Every girl sleeps with him.”
I stop and peer back over at him. The porch light casts shadows across his face so I can’t see him very well, but his tone sounds like he’s genuinely interested in my response. “Maybe I’m not every girl.” I shrug and disappear into my house.
The weekend arrives and our parents are out of town at a seminar in LA. Saturday goes by in a lazy haze of pajamas and pool time with Kendall. Sunday we have Sister Sunday: a tradition consisting of the five of us spending time together the first Sunday of each month.
When we first began making this a ritual three years ago, Savannah insisted that the occasions be called Sassy Sisters Sunday. The fact that she teaches kindergarten seems to compel her to rhyme or make catchy phrases to describe nearly everything. We all threatened to boycott the Sundays if we were going to refer to ourselves as the Sassy Sisters, but after a few months, Sister Sunday sort of stuck.
“Can you sit still?” Kendall growls, placing a hand on my bobbing knee.
“Why did you want to try this place?” I ask, looking around at the dingy looking restaurant. “I swear we’re going to see a cockroach.” My eyes rake across the floor, truly expecting to see one.
“Oh please.” Kendall groans.
“This place is kind of … interesting,” Jenny says quietly as she looks at the collection of mismatched silverware that the waiter had dropped off for us.
“It’s disgusting,” Mindi adds with a scowl.
“It’s not that bad.” Savannah attempts to soothe us all as her eyes skate over the table, searching for a redeeming quality.
“You hang out with five-year-olds that smell like urine and eat crayons all day. Your standards of clean and sanitary have been grossly skewed.” Mindi’s tone is calm and factual, because it is indeed true. I’ve been in Savannah’s classroom before. I’ve seen and heard what twenty-four five-year-olds are capable of, and what they think is acceptable.
“You and Ace need to relax and stop being so afraid of germs. Roxy works here. She wouldn’t have told us to come by if it was dirty.” Kendall’s eyes focus on each of us in warning.
“You’re right, it’s not …” I glance to a table receiving food that smells pretty good. “Okay, but I want to know what he ordered.” Mindi looks at me alarmed, knowing I’ve just swayed the vote to stay.
“Come on, it’ll be okay. If it sucks we’ll go through a drive-thru,” I assure her.
“Roxy?” Jenny asks.
“Yeah, Lamar,” Kendall says, reaching for her water.
Jenny grabs Kendall’s glass midair. “We should probably go.” Kendall’s face creases with confusion, and Jenny’s eyes dart to the side. “Do you remember when you were a sophomore and made out with Jack Webber?”
“Yeah …”
“Did you know he was dating Roxy at the time?”
“That was like six years ago, Jen!”
“Yeah, well I just learned about it a couple of weeks ago when I heard her telling a friend how much she hates you.”
Kendall looks around to each of us, and then her gaze travels to the restaurant as though she’s finally seeing this place really is a pit with its ripped and moldy carpet, smoke-tinted wallpaper, and chipped Formica tabletops that I don’t want my purse to touch, let alone my silverware.
“What are you waiting for, let’s go,” Kendall says, shoving me out of the booth.
We end up at our usual Mexican restaurant after a semi-awkward departure from the roach buffet. We sit down and laugh about the brief experience as Kendall fills the rest of us in on her kiss with Jack Webber.
“Let’s go!” Kendall cries as she jumps up and tugs on my arm.
The entire yard spins as I stand up. Our Sister Sunday ended here at the house, where Mindi ordered Chinese takeout and we sat around the backyard discussing Kendall’s relationship with Jameson, which drifted to Jenny’s relationship with Paul, and later transformed into my relationship with Eric. I decided that the conversation required alcohol because although I was ready to end things with Eric a couple of weeks ago, I stopped telling my sisters that I am and have even been defending him again lately. I just didn’t want to deal with it, and it gave me an additional reason to avoid Max and his judgment.
Savannah decided that each time I used the phrase, “I don’t know,” I had to take a shot. Trying to explain my relationship with Eric and why I was staying in it while trying to be vague included three shots, which only made it more difficult to avoid those three cursed words. They were relentless and asked several questions knowing I’d respond with the key phrase, leading me to drinking too much.
Mindi, Savannah, and Jenny left Kendall and me to the lounge chairs in the backyard after ensuring we weren’t too drunk to pass out and drown, but apparently not to question that we’d be just drunk enough to do something stupid.
“Go where?” I ask.
“TP Marshall’s!”
I instantly laugh at the thought as I shake my head.
“Come on!” She wraps her fingers around mine and tugs once again, and I willingly follow her through the house. I’ve definitely drank too much, because I can hear a teeny tiny voice in the back of my head telling me that this is a bad idea, but a much louder voice in the forefront of my mind giggles and discusses strategy. That louder voice is my voice, as I help load Kendall’s arms.