Fourth Comings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [52]
“And the weird thing about it was that it happened in a swimming pool….” Then he broke character and started cracking his own shit up. The rubbery flesh bobbed up and down. Erect. Flaccid. Erect. Flaccid. Ew.
I was one second away from screaming, “Rumpelforeskin! Rumpelforeskin! Rumpelforeskin!” when Bethany came and tugged on my elbow.
“Can I steal you away for a moment?” she asked.
And as I went off with my sister, I thought about how the MILFs would have loved the story of Rumpelforeskin, that is, if he didn’t happen to be married to one of them. “s Marin okay?” I asked. “Oh, she’s fine,” she said. “Liesl’s son, Driver, was having a moment.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks for rescuing me.”
thirty-four
“Is Marin okay?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s fine,” she said. “Liesl’s son, Driver, was having a moment.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks for rescuing me.”
She didn’t respond. Since Marin wasn’t involved in the fracas, I assumed Bethany had faked her urgency. But when she led me past the partygoers, downstairs and into the quiet of her bedroom, I realized that she really did want a one-on-one. I spent a lot of time at my sister’s place, but rarely entered her bedroom, which was expensively decorated in a minimalist and modern fashion designed to showcase the grandest panorama in all five boroughs.
“Christ,” I whispered under my breath. “You can see everything, from the Statue of Liberty to Lower Manhattan.” I pressed my head to the glass. If I stretched my neck, I could even see the spire of the Chrysler Building.
My sister pointed out, “See that crane, right there? That’s where the World Trade Center used to be. The towers were twice as tall as any of the other buildings in the skyline.”
Then we stood next to each other, silently looking into that empty space in the sky, both imagining what it must have been like to wake up every morning to that sight. And on that one morning in particular.
“You know what’s weird?” Bethany asked.
“What?”
“That the best thing about our home is the view of someplace else.”
Intentionally so or not, it was one of the deepest observations I’ve ever heard come out of my sister’s mouth. I almost said so, but she spoke first.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about a few things,” Bethany said after a few moments, gesturing for me to sit next to her on an ochre velvet chaise at the foot of her mahogany platform bed.
“Bethany,” I said, interrupting. “I know what you’re going to say….”
“I don’t think you do,” she said softly.
“You want me to work for the Be You Tea Shoppe,” I said. “I think it’s a great idea, but…”
Bethany shook her head, and the sun bounced off individual strands of her hair that were more golden than others. “That’s not what I’m going to say.”
“Then what?”
“I want to make you Marin’s legal guardian.”
That is definitely not what I thought she was going to say.
“Oh my God!” I gasped, digging my fingernails into her upper thigh. “Are you sick? Are you dying?”
Bethany mustered a laugh. “No, no,” she said. “I’m perfectly healthy. So is Grant. The chances are very unlikely that you would ever be called upon to act in that capacity.” Bethany’s impersonal word choice hinted that she had rehearsed this speech before delivering it. “But you know, things happen,” she said, darting a nervous glance out the window. “And we need to know that Marin will be in good hands….”
And those good hands were mine? Watching her for two hours every afternoon is one thing, but being her parent? I mean, I didn’t take one step toward the playroom when I heard the shrieking. I wasn’t programmed to react like any protective parent would. Was it instinct? Or could I learn how? And the most vexing question: Did I even want to?
It was a lot for me to process.
“Why are you asking me now?” I asked.
“Well, there are several reasons, actually,” she said, tracing circles into the velvet with her fingertip. “Marin starts school tomorrow, and I had to fill out all this paperwork—you know, emergency contacts and such. And it just got me thinking about who would take care of her