Page 16 of The Starfish Sisters

Stephanie says, “It’s so weird that you live like that, never locking your door.”

Suze peeks around the door. “Am I interrupting?”

“Auntie Suze!” Jasmine cries, and flies across the room. “You’re home! Are you staying? Are you just visiting?”

“I’m staying for a little while.” Suze scoops her up into a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, beautiful girl!”

“Want some coffee?” I ask.

“Sure.” Tangled in Jasmine, she walks with the bouncing girl into the kitchen. “Hi, Steph,” she says, and drops a kiss on her head. “You look fantastic, as ever.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

“Auntie Suze!” Jasmine says, leaning on the counter. “I saw you on TikTok!”

“What were you doing on TikTok?” Stephanie says. “I told you not to go there.”

“It was at Ashley’s house. Just for a minute, and we were practicing the TikTok dance, and then I saw Auntie Suze, and then I had to watch.” She plants her palms on the counter and lifts herself up until her feet dangle. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Suze tangles her hand in Jasmine’s long, curly ponytail, touches her nape. “Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m good.”

“And they said somebody beat you up—”

“Jasmine,” Stephanie says, sharply.

In an echo of her mother, Jasmine sucks her top lip into her mouth. “Sorry.”

Stephanie says, “Go get your iPad and bring it to me.”

“It wasn’t on my iPad! It was on Ashley’s.”

“Now.”

She huffs. “Fine.”

Stephanie waits until Jasmine is upstairs. “I am so sorry, Suze. She doesn’t get it, but I’m sorry you—”

“It’s really fine.” Suze shakes her head.

Stephanie is blushing slightly. She’s dazzled by Suze’s celebrity even when she knows it’s silly, that she’s known her all her life. But she wants to do things right even more when Suze is around than she usually does, and that’s a pretty tall order.

And it’s not like it isn’t easy to be dazzled by my old friend, even now, when she’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved Henley T-shirt and no makeup whatsoever. In the even northern light of the window, she’s illuminated, the elegant swoop of cheekbones and jaw, those aqua eyes, her still-lush mouth. We’re the same age, so I know she must have done a few things—eyelids, maybe, and her jaw, something to erase the lines on her décolletage. She’s stunningly, staggeringly beautiful, as she always has been. There have been many times over the years that I envied the power that beauty commanded, but it never lingers. I’ve also seen the torture it has conjured in her life. People want to own beauty, make it their own, ruin it if they can’t possess it.

In such simple clothing, her gauntness is accentuated. Her collarbones look ready to set sail. She’s always been a person who lost weight under trying circumstances, something I try not to envy.

Instead, it triggers my wish to take care of her. “You’re staying for dinner, right?” Maybe Stephanie will stay if she knows Suze will be here.

“Oh, yes, please. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages.”

“I made chicken tortilla soup.” Stephanie shakes her head, and I add, “I saved some of the base before I added chicken so Jasmine won’t starve.” The girl has gone vegetarian the past year, part of her transformation into an eco-warrior. “Sure you can’t have a bowl of soup?”

She looks at her watch, then at the window, which is showing plenty of light. “I can have some.”

Suze almost winks at me, and I’m grateful, at least in this moment, for her presence.

Jasmine absolutely loves setting the table—she loves eating at the dinner table, as a family, more than almost anything. We devour soup and freshly fried tortilla strips, Suze and I carefully skirting anything important. Stephanie asks what Suze knows about London, and she offers a few pointers along with her phone number.

Halfway through dinner, Jasmine says, “Did you know this is a tsunami zone? Where would we go if we heard the warning?”