“Oh my gosh!” Mom yells as we come through the door. She’s standing at the kitchen counter with Nick and they’re both chopping. Dad and I run to her and we smoosh her between us like she’s the filling of a sandwich. “You’re all wet!” she cries.
Nick throws his head back and laughs.
“Oh, you want to be next?” I taunt. He dodges around the counter and ducks me.
“Go change clothes!” Mom yells, jerking her finger toward the hallway. “Dinner is in five!”
We go down the hallway laughing. I close my door and lean hard against it.
What Dad doesn’t know is that I’d already forgiven her. And him, too.
Nick
It’s nice doing the family thing with the Carrie’s family. Really nice. I used to do this with my parents, and I didn’t realize how much I miss it. Mr. Michaels has grilled some steaks, and he motions for Carrie to follow him outside to check on them. I stand at the counter with Mrs. Michaels and help her arrange a salad. Which means I pretty much just watch her toss it.
“How is Carrie doing, Nick?” she asks.
I jerk my eyes up to her face. She stares at me, her eyes so much like Carrie’s that it’s startling. “She’s struggling,” I say.
She snorts. “Aren’t we all?”
Carrie and Mr. Michaels come back into the house, carrying a plate loaded with steaks and baked potatoes. They’re laughing together, and she looks so damn pretty that I can’t stop staring at her. Mrs. Michaels reaches over and closes my mouth for me. I grin at her and she smiles back. “I’ve always liked you, Nick,” she says.
“I’ve always liked you too, Mrs. Michaels,” I admit.
Her eyes soften. “You look so much like your dad.”
“Sometimes I forget what they looked like. What they sounded like.” I don’t know why I said that.
“I can understand that. I made a series of videos for Carrie for when I’m gone. Sort of a ‘your wedding day’ and a ‘your first baby’ kind of thing. Something she can look at when special days pass by and I’m not there.”
“Does she know about it?”
She shakes her head. “No one does.”
“That was smart of you. I wish I had that.”
She rubs my shoulder. “Your parents’ accident wasn’t exactly something they could plan for.”
Mr. Michaels walks into the kitchen. “What are your plans for college, Nick?” he asks. He bends and kisses Mrs. Michaels on the cheek. She blushes.
“Oh, I’m not going,” I say. I brush them off, because I don’t want to tell them how I want more than anything to go to college. I want to do everything my parents planned for me to do, and they planned for me to be a success.
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Too much to do here,” I murmur.
Mrs. Michaels motions everyone to the table and we sit down together. I feel a little out of place, but then Carrie reaches over and squeezes my knee under the table and I feel better immediately. I smile at her, and tangle my fingers up with hers.
Mrs. Michaels insists that I call her Patty. And she tells me to call Mr. Michaels John, but he glowers at me when she says it. I swipe a hand down my face to hide my smile.
Patty spends an hour telling me stories about when Carrie was little, and John chimes in at inappropriate moments and it makes everyone laugh. Carrie fidgets like she’s not quite sure what to do with this new family thing, but she’s enjoying it too, I can tell.
When everyone is done eating, Patty says, “John, we should let the kids do the dishes.” She stretches. “I’m really tired.” She shoots John a loaded glance and this time it’s him who squirms. “You about ready for bed?” she asks him.
He tosses his napkin onto his plate and stands up. “Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,” he says. He takes her hand in his and helps her up.
“You’re going to bed together?” Carrie blurts out.
John and Patty look at one another. “We’re really tired,” John says over a laugh. He pulls Patty toward the bedroom, and they close the door behind them amid whispers and giggles.
“Well, that’s just odd,” Carrie says. She stands and stares at the door.
I laugh. “I think it’s sweet.”
She’s quiet as we quickly load the dishwasher and clean up from dinner, but there’s not much to do and we’re done in a matter of minutes. I follow her to the couch. That’s when we hear the soft thump.
“What is that?” Carrie asks.
“Umm…”
“Do you hear that?” she asks. She tiptoes toward the hallway.
“Carrie,” I whisper at her.
“No, really,” she says. “What is that noise?”
Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump.
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it.
She drops her face into her hands and says quietly, “My parents are having sex.”
“Apparently,” I say. I pull her hands down from her face, because her shoulders are shaking, and I think she’s crying. But I quickly realize that the tears are because she’s biting back her laughter.
She jerks her thumb toward the bedroom. “My parents are having sex!” she whisper-yells.
“Sure sounds like it.” I rock back on my heels.
“Like knocking boots.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Really going at it.”