“Slip of the tongue?”
He shrugs and smiles. “Something like that.”
* * *
—
Saturday morning finds me on Kiersten’s doorstep at 7:36 with two oat lattes, a dozen Nana’s doughnuts, and a heavy heart.
After Dax left, I got into bed and started thinking. Which led to analyzing. Which led to making new plans and questioning all of my life decisions.
“Oh god. What happened?” Kierst is a bit of a mess. There’s a mysterious green stain on the shoulder of her white sweater, and her hair is half falling out of her bun and I suspect it’s not intentional. She hoists Lucy onto her hip as Riley ducks under her arm and heads for the minivan in the driveway.
“Nothing happened,” I lie.
Kiersten doesn’t say anything but raises a single eyebrow as she pulls her front door closed behind her and hands me the car seat with Jan.
I help her load the kids into their various seating contraptions, then seat myself in the passenger side.
We drop baby Jan at Kiersten’s mother-in-law’s and Lucy at her swimming lesson and are on our way to drop off her oldest, Riley, at a friend’s house when I grow impatient and crack.
“Would it be so terrible if I didn’t go home?”
My sister eyes me, then checks her rearview mirror. I suspect it’s less about watching the traffic and more about wanting to make sure her eleven-year-old is as engrossed in his handheld video game as the beeping and bopping from the back seat suggest.
“Are you talking about living at Aunt Livi’s or, like, the whole parallel universe thing?”
Now it’s me checking the mirror and confirming there’s no eavesdropping. “The latter.”
Kiersten doesn’t say any actual words. But she does huh.
I wait a full three seconds before poking her hard between her ribs.
“Ow. Sorry, I was thinking…”
“About?”
“About how I was sort of hoping you’d come to your senses and admit you were making all that parallel universe shit up, but I guess you’re still sticking with your story.”
I glare at her. “Kierst, I’m telling the truth.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She shrugs and drives a full block and a half before she continues. “Well, from a personal perspective, I’m all for you staying here, as I’ve had a small but meaningful existential crisis trying to figure out if I cease to exist if you go back to your world or whatever. But I’m curious, what has you changing your mind?”
I feel my cheeks heat. “I went out with Dax last night, and we…” I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t need to. She pulls the car over to the side of the road and hits the brakes so hard that I test the effectiveness of my seatbelt.
“You had sex! How was it? I need details. Don’t feel like you need to skip over things because I’m your sister.”
“Kiersten!” I point at her rearview mirror. She turns around to look at Riley, who is still engrossed in playing video games in the back seat.
She turns back to me, rolls her eyes, and waves him off as if it’s a non-issue. “He’s in grade six. He knows more about sex than I do, and we talk about it openly.” She raises her voice. “Isn’t that right, Ry? Sex is beautiful and not at all shameful when it’s between consenting individuals who fully understand the consequences.”
Riley doesn’t even look up. “You’re disgusting.”
Kiersten shrugs. “See.”
“We didn’t have sex,” I clarify. Kiersten again gives me the skeptical eyebrow.
“We didn’t have sex,” I repeat louder so Riley can hear, then lower my voice. “We just made out a little.”
Kiersten eyes me for a long moment. “Must’ve been one hell of a make-out.”
“It was.”
Kiersten rolls her eyes with an exaggerated scoff, but then she drops all the drama, and her face gets all big-sister serious. “So, all jokes aside, you’re actually thinking of giving up on your whole plan?”
I let myself dwell on the consequences of that statement for a whole second.
“Kind of.”
She shakes her head. “He must be one hell of a guy.”
He is. And although I’ve known that fact for a long time now, it feels like I’ve woken up and seen Dax with a completely new set of eyes.
We pull up at a red-brick bungalow, and Riley jumps out. I catch an eye roll fueled by middle school angst that flares my face an even deeper shade of red, and I pray that I’m not the topic of his future therapy sessions.