Page 101

FIRST STEPS ARE HARDEST

“Are you sure you don’t have a strip tease for an Animal Rescue planned? Maybe pimping for the needy?”

“Technically, I’d be hooking, not pimping.”

“Not the argument you think it is.”

Evie dropped a box on the bed, kicking dust into the air.

My nose crinkled as I fought off another sneezing fit.

Since we started cleaning, I had already plowed through a box of tissues.

Mimi had saved everything, including dust. I couldn’t tell if she had been in this room for years.

It took days to empty out the furniture and sort through old trunks filled with keepsakes.

Gladys walked away like a pirate, ready to peddle her booty.

“I can’t believe you…” I had no idea where Evie’s line of thinking went. She turned from the closet, head cocked to the side. “Full frontal?”

I plopped down on the bed, opening the top of the box. “Full frontal. The ladies of Firefly went home hot and bothered. Who knew I’d be flashing the elderly?”

Evie rolled her eyes while swiping at dust particles.

It already clung to her shirt, making the bright purple dull.

We had been at this for a week. I thought the dinner at Jason’s had given us a path forward, but ever since, we remained distant.

There were moments when I thought things might go back to normal, but then one of us would pull away.

I wanted to blame Evie for the rift, but we both had a hand in making it weird.

“Evie.” I lifted an ornate frame out of the box. It seemed every time we opened a new box, the mystery of our grandmother took a sharp turn. “Look at this.” I handed her the photograph.

“Is she ’n a chef's jacket?”

“Mimi couldn’t cook to save her life. Right?”

“Oh, she could cook. She loved her venison. You always thought she cooked you steak? Nope. Bambi.” Two years my senior, she had a slightly different perspective of our grandmother. “Is that… Chicago?”

She took a seat next to me, pointing at the giant ‘Navy Pier’ sign. I took the picture, squinting as I pulled it close. “Gianni’s Pizzeria? Our grandmother worked at a pizza joint?”

“Huh.”

“What, huh?”

“She made us pizza once. I think it was the summer going into my freshman year. I only remember it because the kitchen had flour everywhere.”

“Oh, yeah… she made me clean it up!”

Each time we unearthed a secret, we stopped and processed.

At these moments, I felt close to Evie. We were learning about our grandmother together.

That’s what families did, I think. I didn’t exactly have role models outside of the Romance Channel.

In those movies, this is where the goofy sidekick would come in and interrupt the tension.

I glanced at the door, willing Amanda to appear.

“Evie.”

“Jon.”

We spoke at the same time. We had spent more of our lives apart. I always said I wouldn’t know how to be a good brother. The lie let me overcome the uncomfortable guilt that bubbled every time I thought of us in a situation like this.

“I need to say something.” Did I? I spoke the words, but I don’t remember making my mouth move.

Mimi’s cheek had something red streaked down her jaw.

Tomato sauce, maybe? It only made her toothy smile stand out even more.

Her hair had long since turned white, and this was during her ‘bun’ phase.

It was hard to mourn a woman who lived such a full life.

Her bucket list had been completed, and then some.

I couldn’t keep going without checking off at least one item.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll need to be more?—”

“For Mom and Dad.”

“Jonny…” It had been the conversation we never discussed.

I still didn’t want to talk about it, not with her, of all people.

Mimi didn’t leave a letter or make any requests before she passed.

She never talked about our distance, but I could tell every time she looked at a photo of us as kids.

It hurt her heart. I considered it an unspoken request.

“When Mom and Dad died, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“We don’t?—”

“We do. For Mimi.” It came out more aggressive than I meant.

She lowered her head, clasping her hands together.

“The only way I functioned was by avoiding it. I shut down. How do you even handle those feelings? I’m still not sure I know how to handle the grief.

Nobody prepares you for what happened to us. ”

“You vanished,” she mumbled. Not physically, but mentally? I learned to turn off my emotions. “Jonny, I needed you.”

“I didn’t process what happened, so I really didn’t know how to help you. You cried and wanted to talk about feelings. I couldn’t, not without falling apart. I thought if I put distance between us, we’d be able to grieve in our own way.”

She didn’t move when I rested a hand on her leg.

“I forgot to come back.”

“I was so angry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She looked away, doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact. “I needed you… my brother… and you left me to deal with Mom and Dad.” Tears splashed against the back of her hands. “I was alone.”

This conversation came twenty years late. I couldn't tell if the uneasy feeling in my stomach started now or if it had been there for decades. We had avoided this discussion, and as much as I wanted to bolt for the door, I owed Evie.

I didn’t expect an exchange to fix things or build a bridge over the rift. Evelyn deserved better. I had been a kid. That needed to change. Mimi would tell us to work through our discomfort and get over ourselves. She’d force us into a sit down until we found mutual ground.

“Remember when you broke her vase and blamed me?”

She wiped her face, sniffling. “How do you remember that?”

“Mimi made us sit in the living room until we worked it out. Do you remember what she did while we glared at each other?”

“She made cookies.” Evie chuckled. The mood shifted as she finished wiping her face clean. “Grandmothers are devious. She kept commenting on how much chocolate was in them. Then she started eating the dough, making slurping sounds until I admitted I broke it.”

“Mimi played us.”

“She always won,” Evie said.

“I think she’s winning right now.” Evie raised an eyebrow, giving me a sideways glance. “We’re the only family left. Mimi would have wanted us here doing this together.”

“She probably staged the whole thing,” I said.

“I bet she’s in Cancun right now, drinking tequila.”

“Scotland and whisky.”

Evie wrapped her fingers around my hand, squeezing. “Not a fan of the circumstances, but I’ll overlook it because of the company.” The first plank of the bridge had been laid. It’d take time for both of us to heal, but at least now, we might be able to do it together.

Without thinking, I grabbed a pillow on the bed. Swinging it about, it smacked her in the face. When she didn’t respond, I feared she’d?—

“Jon Olsen.” She pushed off, tackling me while she jabbed a pointed finger at my sides. Twenty years later, and she still knew my ticklish spots. She always threatened to make me wet myself. We quickly approached that point as I writhed underneath her.

She straddled my chest, pinning me down. “Can I trade you in for a new one?” A threat I heard a thousand times. “Since we’re being honest, I have something I need to tell you.”

“You won’t convince me I’m adopted again.”

“Serious.” Tonal shift, again. She brushed her hair over her ear as she leaned back, using my stomach as a seat. “I didn’t take time off from the hotel.”

“I don’t follow.”

She let out a long sigh. “I quit.”

“Your job?” I propped myself up on my elbows, staring up at her. She did that annoying half-smile where I couldn’t be sure she told the truth. “You did it, didn’t you? You quit the hotel.”

She nodded. “They wouldn’t give me time off. I grabbed my favorite mug and walked out.” I’m pretty sure she sat a little taller as she spoke. “Best part, they’ve called me twice, begging me to come back.”

“More money?”

She nodded again. “A lot more.”

“Good for you!” I was proud she stood up for herself.

“I said no.”

My eyes went wide. Evie had hated that job since the first day.

Instead of treating her like a manager, they had turned Evie into a glorified personal assistant.

No matter how much she tried to convince me, I thought she should quit.

Out of the two of us, she was the responsible one.

She wouldn’t rock the boat until it was time to capsize it.

“So… what now?”

She shrugged before a long exhale. Evie picked up the picture of Mimi smiling at it. “It’s an adventure, I guess.” That was the sister I loved growing up. “How would you feel about pizza tonight?”

“You’re making pizza?”

She laughed. “If by making, you mean going to the grocery store, buying one, and putting it in the oven, then yes. I’m cooking us a feast.”

Another board had been put in place. I could almost see the other side of our ravine. The uncertainty in my chest calmed as hope set in. We had time to fix our relationship. It had taken decades, but right now, I needed a big sister in my life.

“What about you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Evie hopped off the bed. “Jonny, I can’t be the only one living.”

“Hey, I’m living!” I protested, but as soon as the words came out, I heard the lack of conviction. I sounded like a kid brother pretending to be a grown-up. “Okay, maybe I’m just existing, too.” Admitting it lessened the weight, but it didn't eliminate it. Not yet.

She tossed the photo onto my stomach. “If I can take a risk, so can you. The question is…” Her eyebrows danced up and down.

“Ugh. Firefly has gotten to you.” I sat up, staring at the photo. Mimi would have lectured me about existing. We’re not put on this earth to exist. I thought she meant getting out more. With every box, I found her making life happen.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh, him? Yeah. Sure. You could use a little beefcake in your life. Spare me the details.” Evie moved to the door. Leaning against the doorway, she smirked—a genuine, evil sister smirk. “I saw the sketchpad in your backpack. Whatever happened to radical love?”

She held her hand up, dropping an invisible microphone.

Without another word, she vanished. My sister, with a single statement, had thrown down the gauntlet.

I wanted to argue, but she had a point. Sitting in Rita’s coffee shop and capturing her on the page, I found myself…

happy. I’d have to dwell on this more. Was I not happy? No, not really. Discontent maybe.

Dammit, Evie. I forgot the downside of having a wiser, older sister.

Though… as I thought about the drawing, I imagined the next one capturing an extremely handsome, burly bear.

Maybe there was a way to overlap the two interests.

I wanted to dive into this idea of love and wrap it around me like a warm blanket.

A smile broke out as I thought about sketching Tyler. It needed to happen.

“Take risks, Jonny,” she shouted from downstairs.

I grabbed my phone.

Jon: Hey… interested in being a model for me?