Page 30 of Big & Lily

The women and Jace say their good nights, and the remaining group pull their chairs even closer. I sit quietly, with my hands in my lap, wondering how long before Lily is willing to leave, when over the rumble of chatting and laughter I hear my sister say, “I was nine, and Big had just gotten her license...” I freeze. She’s about to tellthatstory. I should have left with Luna and Mimi. I start sweating like I’m trudging up the mountain again. Lily smiles at me conspiratorially as if I’m in on the punch line. I am not.

“The new Patti the Platypus Beanie Baby had just launched, and my mother wouldn’t take me to buy one before they sold out.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. It sounds like this is going to be a sweet tale of sibling support and love. Everyone looks at me like I’m Sister of the Year.

“So, I begged Big to take me to Toys “R” Us, and at first, she was all mom-like about it. ‘You don’t need a new toy just becauseit’s popular.’?” She made her voice gruff and grumbly to make the seventeen-year-old me sound like a tyrant. “But I cried and pleaded, and she finally gave in.”

Of course I did. Story of my life with Lily. I was always torn between being a good sister, giving her what she wanted, and knowing that I was going to have to break the rules to give it to her. Being a rule breaker was not my strong suit, surprise, surprise.

“But we didn’t even get out of our own town. She was pulling onto the highway, and all of a sudden, boom, she slammed on the brakes, and someone hit us from behind.” Lily got the collective gasp she was looking for. “I mean, Mom’s car was squashed, but we were okay. I had these funny bruises across my shoulder and belly—from the seat belts. And Big got grounded for a month. The worst part was I never got my Patti the Platypus.” Lily laughs. “So silly, what things are so important to you. You don’t get them, and you have to learn to live without.”

I wonder if Lily is really talking about the toy.

“I wanted the Atari 2600. Never got it,” says Ian wistfully.

“I hate to break it to you, but you can buy these all on eBay right now,” adds Xavier like he’s talking to a bunch of boomers. He holds up his phone and there is the platypus Beanie Baby from 1994 for sale.

“Let’s buy it,” shouts Dane. “No, wait. Letmeget it. My gift to you, Lily.”

My sister lifts one shoulder to her ear. “Aww, Dane.”

“Give me your address,” he says while typing into his phone. “It will be there waiting when you go home. Or I could bring it to you. Special delivery. If you want.”

“Would you? Aren’t you sweet.”

That’s it. Time to scrape my chair again. It’s dramatic enough to grab everyone’s attention. “Lily, I gotta pee. Come with.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

I mumble under my breath, “For f’s sake, why am I even here?” and stomp off to the ladies’.

The toilet is one tiny room, faded moose-themed wallpaper, more framed photos of Heidi’s sled team, a mirror framed in—wait for it—bleached antlers. I stare at my reflection. I didn’t wear makeup today. It seemed unnecessary for a hike in the woods. When I’d gotten back to camp, still without my luggage, I had to borrow a pair of sweatpants someone left behind so my leggings could dry. Now I look like I’ve been lost in the woods for months. Especially compared to my sister, who not only put on her full face before breakfast, but reapplied and used her curling iron before dinner and changed into her night-out clothes to come here. I’ve got to rein Lily in, for her own sake. There is no self-discovery, nothing Zen about inviting a D-list actor from LA to your home in suburban New Jersey. Where your husband still lives.

Leaning on the sink, I try to muster up the energy to go back out there and be social, but before I can open the bathroom door my phone buzzes. It startles me; I thought there was no service out here in the middle of nowhere except at the top of mountains. I’ll bet it’s Tim, whose timing is impeccable. I need to talk to him about this Lily and Dane business.

Unfortunately, it is not someone who is going to help me solve my problems. It’s my mother.

“Finally,” she says sans a hello.

“Mom, it’s midnight there. Why are you up? Why are you calling in the middle of the night? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“No. Nothing is okay.”

Now my chest does that thing it does when a blast of anxiety kicks at my sternum. “Mom, do you need to call 911?”

“I don’t need 911. Lord, you are such an alarmist.”

I count my breaths. “Fine. Then, what’s up?”

“I want you to know, your house is in chaos.”

“Welcome to my world, Mom.”

“Do you think that’s funny? You need to talk to your husband. He needs to run a tighter ship.”

I’ve spoken to my husband, I want to say, and most of the chaos is being caused by her.

I can’t help but throw a small, smug smile at the antler mirror. “I’ll do that,” I say, knowing I won’t. Tim must have it under control, as he insisted he would before I left. “Listen, I’ve got to go now. We’re doing grizzly wrestling next.”

“That sounds like a nightmare. I hate to say I told you so.”