It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,41
tell me something I don’t know.
I’ll be there, cheering you on.
Heart emoji.
So how exactly do I interpret a heart emoji?
That’s up to you.
OK. I think it means you’re happy I’m going to be there.
Sure.
I’m missing something?
Sometimes you’ve got to read between the lines.
Heart emoji.
What does that one mean?
You used an English/reading term.
And that makes your heart beat fast?
Yup.
Good. To. Know. See what I did there? Used punctuation as emphasis.
OH MY!
The ladies love a smarty-pants.
This one sure does.
Three heart emojis and a smiley face emoji.
Fifteen
It’s about two hours before we leave for the game and there’s no sign of Rena or Eric yet. “Mom?” I call out.
“In here.” Mom’s in the kitchen, shoving a pan into the oven. She closes the oven door and looks up as I approach. “They’ll be here soon.”
“I need Rena to help me with my costume.”
She wipes her hands on the dish towel and reaches under the sink for rubber gloves.
“Can you grab the beets?” she asks as she takes a cutting board out and sharpens one of her knives. “It’s supposed to be really nasty out tonight. I can’t believe how fast the weather turned this year.”
“Don’t even start. Rain or not, cold or not, I am going tonight.” I plunk the bag of beets down next to her.
Her eyes go to my face in that worried Jewish mother look that makes me super uncomfortable.
“Stop, Mom. I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”
She holds the beets under the water and scrubs them clean. I take each beet from her and dry them with a paper towel and soon we’ve got this rhythm going so well that I don’t even hear the door open. Or the approaching steps.
“Damn, what did those beets ever do to anybody?”
I turn to face Eric. Squeal. Drop everything and run straight for him.
He crushes me with his hug, but it’s a good kind of crushing.
“How you doing, little sister?” he asks.
“Glad I’m not a beet!”
“Very funny, Jenna,” Mom pushes past me and gets her own Eric hug. “How are you, sweetie?”
He puts his hand on his stomach. “Starved.” Then he drops a big duffel bag on the ground. “Brought my laundry, but I’ll do it myself.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Put it in the laundry room, and we’ll battle that out later.”
I walk with Eric as he deposits his laundry as directed. “I heard you got a little raucous with Mom and Dad?” he asks.
“Had to happen,” I say. “Who told you? Mom, Dad, or Uncle Steve?”
“Rena. The ears of the house.”
I put my hand on my forehead. “She’s like a super spy. I didn’t know she knew. She wasn’t even home when the big talk happened!”
Eric checks the washer. “Should I actually be a grown-up and do my own laundry?”
I punch his arm. “Tell me how Rena knew.”
He rubs his arm. “Man, you’re getting strong.” I wind up, threatening another assault. He puts his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. You know how our house is. Nothing’s a secret.”
We walk to the front of the house, where he finally takes his coat off and hangs it on the hook.
“So that means Mom and Dad have been talking about it.” I chew on my finger. “I mean, that’s the only way she could have heard.”
“All I can say is never underestimate the curious nature of our baby sister.”
Almost on cue, Rena pushes open the door, sees Eric, and slams into him. The two of them lurch toward me. And soon we are this blob of happiness. Limbs and bodies and hugs and smiles. I seriously missed my brother. I’ve definitely missed this. The three of us together here in the living room, threatening to knock over glass vases and picture frames. Mom approaches, arms outstretched, and we let her be part of the hug.
When we break apart, Mom says, “Dinner’s in half an hour.”
“We’ll be late for the game.”
Dad enters from the hallway off the garage. “Dinner is nonnegotiable,” he says to all of us, but catches my eye to make sure I’ve got the not-so-subtle double meaning. It’s clearly a crack on our recent battles.
Then he smiles, and all of this feels so perfect.
* * *
“Hurry up, Eric,” Rena calls over her shoulder after dinner, “we’ve got just enough time to make you Olaf and convince Jenna to go as Anna.”
“Olaf? Hell no. I’ve got my own costume. Besides, shouldn’t you be Anna, you know, the younger sister?”
“It’s role playing, Eric. I can be the eldest for once.”
“She’s been trying to usurp you