His arms fly up. “I’m angry, Zia!”
“I get that, James. But it doesn’t mean you’re allowed a free pass to be a Tucking jerk and insult something you used to think was fun. I told you what happened between us was a Tucking mistake. What else is there to say except to give it time and go back to how things were? Now why don’t you go home! Leave it the Tuck alone!”
He smiles, despite himself, voice intimate, “I come to all of these parties. I know your whole family! They love me and I love them. Why can’t you see we’re meant to be together? All I think about is you.” James stares at me, takes a closer step.
That was the problem — he says all the things a single girl wants to hear. It was this kind of talk that made me give in and take him to bed. But the second I did it was clear we had no chemistry. At least not on my side.
I hate to have to repeat what I told him that night, but he’s giving me no choice. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way.”
“You enjoyed yourself, Zia. A lot.”
“I’m afraid you are mistaken, James.”
His eyes sharpen in denial’s glare. “You had a great time! I know you did! And it was the best sex of my life, I know that! You’re just afraid of letting me in! I’ll be patient!”
I spin to watch him storm past me, headed for a train we’ve taken together countless times. As friends! Piece by piece the shadows swallow him until I’m finally alone. I was positive he’d insist on coming up.
My phone beeps and I swear at it, thinking it’s him, but relax at the sight of Tempest’s photo and funny emoticons surrounding, “Are you here yet? Hurry up!”
Keying in the security code with tense fingers I whisper, “Best sex of your life? How can that be?”
“Zia!” comes a male voice that tenses me, but I realize in a split second that it’s a voice as familiar as my own.
Looking over, I smile at my brother Noah, handsome as ever, strolling up as his big thumb jogs back. “Just passed James.”
“Don’t ask.”
“Now I have to.” He leans forward to inspect me. “You didn’t.”
“Remember wayyyyyy back when I said, ‘Don’t ask’?!”
Noah clicks his tongue. “Oh man.”
“I hope none of the neighbors heard us talking about the party. Ready to sneak up?”
We take the old elevator until there’s just one flight of stairs to go. Noah opens the entrance to their roof, hushing voices on the other side. Every time I come, this makes me smile. Since everyone is on the lookout for new arrivals as the night begins, the hush-alert spreads quick that it’s silence-time. Make a noise and somebody just might push you over the edge for blowing our cover. Not really, but they’d fake doing it.
As I shut the door, conversations spring back with the nearest family members hugging us hello. I spot Mom in the distance near the far edge, circled by her sisters, wine or beer in gesturing hands, us unnoticed thus far.
“Grandma Lily!”
Her small-town Georgia drawl greets us with a warm smile, “I was looking for your beautiful faces and here you are! Zia, how is the museum, honey? Still having fun?”
Hugging Grandma erases any memory of James, her soft arms and nurturing touch, needed. “I love it there!”
Grandpa Peter asks, “Any new exhibits I should mark into our calendar?”
Pulling away from Grandma I chide him, “You haven’t visited the museum since I got the job.”
“I may!”
“You’d better!”
Noah says, “Excuse me, I see Evan. Can I get either of you anything?”
I smack his arm. “What about me?”
“You don’t count.”
“Nice. Real nice.”
He grins and they wave him off that they’re fine, as Grandma stays on the interrupted subject, eyes sparkling. “I was on the phone with your Aunt Wink today. She’s planning a trip from California and said she’d like to come with me to your museum. Wouldn’t that be fun to have you guide us around!”
Our grandparents, Peter and Lily Tuck, had five girls they named after flowers in honor of Grandma.
The oldest is Rose, mother to Christina, Tempest, and Evan, respectively.
Our mom is Alstroemeria — nicknamed Al for obvious reasons. She came second into this world, and then brought me and Noah into it, two years apart, me the older but not the wiser one.
Lavender — nicknamed Lahvee — arrived third, and she had two children who studied abroad and never came back to live, just to visit on holidays.
Jasmine was fourth but, tragically diagnosed with leukemia at age five, left a hole in this world still felt whenever anyone mentions her name.
The baby of the family, their fifth and final daughter, is Periwinkle — nicknamed Wink. As a teenager, she chased a man to San Francisco and had three sons by him who I rarely see but would love to.
That’s why I ask with hope in my heart, “Is Wink making it a family trip?”
Grandma sighs, “Her boys all have full time jobs now, Zia. You know how that is. Harder to travel with little vacation time.”
“I didn’t even take my vacation time last year!”
She touches my arm, warmth in her eyes. “That’s what happens when you enjoy your job.”
Grandpa Peter grunts, “You took the pay though, right?”
“They roll over.”
He relaxes. “Oh, fine then.”
Walking up looking like a wood nymph in a bohemian dress with shiny brown hair half in braids half long and wavy, Tempest interrupts him saying, “Make sure you take those!” by overlapping with, “Zia! Noah told me you were here! Guess who’s coming tonight?”
“Who?”
“Christina’s boyfriend! You get to meet him! We all do. Well, I already have, but I can’t wait for you to! Come on, we have to be with her when he gets here.” Our grandparents are used to
