Page 30 of Only After We Met
“Ginger, I can’t tell you everything. You’d probably want to know how many times a day I go pee,” she said, laughing, as she picked up one of my suitcases.
“Of course I do. You’re my sister!”
“We need to go. Otherwise, we’ll be late. Dad got a reservation at that restaurant you like so much, the one in Notting Hill. Look at me. Okay, phew. No visible tattoos or piercings.”
“Why should there be?” I followed her.
“You’ve only got a year of college left, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t in the do-something-crazy phase. Not that I’d have aproblem with it, but if you had a ring in your nose, I’d want to have advance warning before Mom and Dad freaked out.”
I touched my nose reflexively and sighed. I was as far as could be from the tingle Donna described when someone has a new experience, whether that be getting a tattoo or cutting their hair and dyeing it pink. Something inside me insisted I stay curled up in my nest, in the security of the familiar.
“No. I never even thought of doing that…”
Donna had come to pick me up in a taxi, and the driver helped us put the luggage into the trunk. We headed for the restaurant. My parents were probably already there waiting. It was a small place in Queensway where they made the best hamburgers with peppers I’d ever had in my life. There was a bowling alley there; it was nothing sophisticated, but the food was great. I thought about Rhys with his spaghetti and smiled.
I was right—my parents were already waiting for us.
Mom kissed me, hugged me, and embarrassed me in front of a young waitress who was looking at us with pursed lips as though trying not to laugh. My father rested a hand on my shoulder and told me he wasproud of mefor getting such good grades and not letting things with Dean affect me.
We sat at the table, which had a crazy black tablecloth with images of smiling forks and spoons on it. We didn’t need to look at the menu before ordering.
“When are we going to Glastonbury?” I asked.
“Next Thursday. By the way, your father and I wanted to tell you something we were thinking about.”
“You’ll love it,” my father said.
“What would you think about spending a few days at the office when we come back? We were thinking that since you’ll join the company next year, it would do you good to get familiar with everything. Plus you’ll get experience. We’re obviously happy with what you’re learning at school, but you should learn about the practical side of it as well.”
“Uh, I mean…”
I knitted my brows and looked at Donna, and she looked down into her plate as if it, too, were taking part in the conversation. I wanted to say no. Worse still, I wanted toshoutno, loud and clear.NO, NO, NO. But that simple two-letter word got stuck in my throat, even as my parents were gazing at me all excited.
“I guess I could do it…”
“How nice, Ginger!” My mother literally applauded. “Just imagine how proud your father will be going to work every day with his little girl.”
“Pass the ketchup?” Donna interrupted her.
“Of course, honey, here. So, Ginger, tell us how things have been going lately. Have you talked to Dean? When I call you at night, you always seem distracted, like you want to hang up. More fries?”
“Yes, please.” I grabbed one off her plate.
“That’s because she’s busy writing at night.” Donna looked at me with a dumb smile, fork in hand. “I can’t believe you don’t know.” She shook her head and kept eating.
“What are you writing?”
“A novel?” Dad asked.
“No…it’s more like a diary…”
“But she sends it to another person.”
I slid my hand under the table and pinched my sister’s leg. She yelped and then laughed. Then she threw an arm over my shoulders and sighed.
“Come on, Ginger. This is important to you. I wasn’t making fun. I’m just surprised you haven’t told them. She has a pen pal. Not like in the old days with pen and paper; she sends him emails. It’s great!”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”