Operation Bailey Birthday: A Bailey Novella (The Baileys Book 1) Page 3
I’m sorry. I frown so he knows I mean it.
He nods and splashes malt vinegar onto his fries. I steal one from his plate. Linus slides the plate into the middle for us to share.
Did she say why? I sign, chewing my fry.
He shrugs. She likes me as a friend.
I frown and he nods as though he knows what I’m thinking. Linus is tall and lanky. He’s slightly awkward, although I mean that in the most loving way. It’s all just hormones and puberty kicking in. Callie will surely regret this decision next year once Linus has filled out.
You don’t want her anyway. She doesn’t appreciate you.
His hands lift. I knew you’d say that.
I laugh. Isn’t that why you called me here?
At least he smiles at that. It eases my own heartache for him.
I’m not looking for an ego boost.
Are you sure? I could tell you how hot and hunky you are.
He laughs. You’re my cousin, so you don’t really count.
Hey, I’m still a girl. And I have eyes.
He picks up another fry. I don’t know why I care, other than it’s embarrassing. I have to tell the family now because I asked her to come to Great-Grandma’s party.
You did? I open my eyes wide.
He nods. She was my girlfriend.
This is so much more serious than I thought. Linus is the romantic one out of us. He believes in soul mates and finding “the one,” whereas I’m still not sure about any of that. There’s so much I want to do. I want to travel and experience living by myself. Mom is always saying I should be able to stand on my own feet before settling down. Dad jokes with her that she’s trying to make sure I don’t make what she always felt was a mistake in her own life. Then Mom shakes her head and Dad kisses her until she’s nodding.
I thought my mom and dad were great examples of young working, but I know now about all the bumps they had along the way. Because my dad was a famous soccer star for a brief moment in time, Google isn’t my friend. It helped me find out a lot that I don’t think they were ready for me to know.
You’re only fourteen, I sign.
Exactly. Don’t you want to have your first kiss?
Did you kiss her? I cringe and I wish my dislike for her wasn’t so obvious. I only met Callie once, when the weather was nice by the lake. I took Isla down there to feed the ducks and Linus and Callie were lying on a blanket like two fifty-year-olds, having a picnic. Maybe if he wanted a kiss, he should’ve taken her there at twilight.
He answers my question with a nod.
What was it like?
I’ve never kissed a boy. There’s this guy, Zane, at my school for the deaf in Anchorage. He just transferred in this year from the mainstream public. But I’m not ready to share anything about him with Linus yet.
I was too scared and nervous to know. It’s a blur. Maybe that’s why she broke up with me.
I squeeze his forearm. No way. How many guys could she have kissed?
I don’t even want to know. If it’s a lot, then I hate to say it, but she’s definitely not the girl for Linus. I always pictured him with a sweet girl. An inexperienced girl. A girl who fell for his gentle nature, because Linus is going to treat his girlfriend like a prized possession.
Anyway, I got the pictures. He slides out the packages of pictures. Took me forever to print them.
Linus and I are in charge of arranging the pictures in the shape of a nine and a zero for the party. We spent all last weekend scouring pictures of Great-Grandma’s life.
I lean back in the booth and flip through them. I find one of her and our great-grandpa, who we never met. It’s actually a picture of her ice skating and my great-grandpa watching her from afar. It’s the look on his face that makes me think true love might exist.
I’m not even sure why I’m so cynical about love. Everyone I know is married to who they say is their true love. And Zane makes my stomach all fluttery like movies and books say should happen. But then I think of Great-Grandma Dori and how she’s spent so much of her life without my great-grandpa, and I wonder if she prefers it that way. She’s in charge of her life and doesn’t let anyone tell her how she should live it.
Linus taps my hand. Stop.
What?
Stop thinking about how you never want to be tied down to someone.
Yep, that’s why Linus is like no other boy. He remembers conversations we had that didn’t revolve around sports, video games, or girls. He was there when I Googled my dad for the first time. When I found all the rumors and the truth they hadn’t told me. My dad was arrested for drunk driving on the same day I was born—but not in Lake Starlight. He was in Scotland. Linus stood by my side when I confronted my parents. He was there when they told me everything that happened. And he sat in my room as I stared out my bedroom window, wrapping my head around the news.
He bends down so I look at him. It exists. Look where they are now.
I know he’s right, but it doesn’t change how I feel about being lied to. Let’s just do this. We have to complete this and… I stop mid-sentence because Linus is waving his hands at me.
When I turn, I find Great-Grandma walking in with Evie. I slyly gather the pictures and put them in envelopes without them seeing.
“Linus! Palmer!” I read Great-Grandma’s lips. I think she might be yelling because I see Linus cringe.
We each file out of the booth because we know what to expect. She shuffles over and hugs us into her over-perfumed blouse. At least we’re both taller than her now, so our heads no longer get smashed into her chest. After she releases us, I look at a very unhappy Evie.
What’s wrong? I sign.
She grabs Great-Grandma’s hand and holds it tightly. “It’s my night with her.”
I stifle a laugh.
“We were about to go anyway,” Linus says to her, still signing for me.
He shoves the pictures into his backpack and digs out his wallet to pay for the fries. Damn, I really wanted to get a pie while we were here, but I get Evie’s reaction. I understand how lost you can feel in a family our size. There’s only one Great-Grandma.
I kiss Great-Grandma’s cheek. See you on—see you later.
Linus kisses our grandma’s cheek. After we each say goodbye to a now-happy Evie, we walk toward the exit.
I sign to Linus, I feel like an ass.
He shakes his head. We all know she knows.
Just then, Great-Grandma must call Linus’s name because he touches my forearm to stop us. He nods toward her and we turn.
She signs, Black and white is so much nicer than color.
I realize Linus is right, so I decide to play with her a little. For what?
She narrows her eyes at us, and I laugh, linking my arm through Linus’s and turning us to leave before Great-Grandma throws a pie in my face. As we open the door, I plow right into a hard chest. I look up and sigh when I discover it’s my dad.
He lifts his hands and I wish I could put them in cement. Linus, give us a minute.
Linus nods and heads around the corner to the gazebo.
Can we talk?
I shrug.
Your mother is worried. She thinks we waited too long and now you’re somehow scarred for life. You’re too young to realize it, but love is complicated. I handled everything wrong and I’ve made my amends.
I look away, but Dad takes my chin in his thumb and his forefinger, pulling my face back to meet his gaze.
It’s enough, Palmer. You were eighteen months old when all this went down. I’m not sure why you think your entire life is a lie. The fact that your mother and I love one another, that we raised you in a loving home, gave you everything you wanted, seems to count for nothing to you now.
His hands move faster the madder he gets, but I’m reading his lips too.
I sign, You guys lied.
We lied by omission, and we always planned to tell you. You just beat us to it. Yeah, we probably waited too long and should have realized you’d Goog
le me at some point, but your mother is broken, and I will not have it. Be mad at me. I’m the one who allowed her to leave.
I place my hands on his to stop him from signing. She left you when you needed help. You let her leave when she was pregnant. What does that say about love?
He’s already shaking his head. Love is complicated. But I will not allow your mother to be upset over this. We forgave one another a long time ago. End of story.
I have to go work on the project for Grandma’s party. I huff and cross my arms. I turn to leave, but he lightly grabs my elbow.
You need to process this and flush it. Do you hear me? I will give you until Saturday. He has his “mad Dad” face.
I say nothing, and he heads into the diner. As predicted, he’s buying a pie for my mom because she’s upset.
I get that this whole thing has upset her, but I’m upset too. I have no idea how to process the fact that my dad was a drunk and my mom left when she was pregnant with me. The first eighteen months of my life were spent without my father. How am I supposed to get over that?
5
Brinley Kelly
(Fifteen and a half years old)
Savannah and Liam’s Daughter
“I was a cute baby.” I’m sitting on the couch with a takeout container of orange chicken from Wok 4 You. “Maybe the slide show should be only of me.”
My mom glances over from her spot on the floor, and her gaze shifts to my dad, who’s on the other side of the couch by me. They share a look that says, “listen to your daughter.’”
“It’ll be equal between all families,” my mom says.
My dad presses Play on the slide show again and exchanges his chow fun for fried rice. Asher, my younger brother, takes the chow fun and fights with his chopsticks to get a noodle.
I do love my family. My mom is a tad too protective and demanding at times, but she makes up for it during our shopping sprees. My dad is totally laid back. Although I used to be embarrassed that he runs the only tattoo parlor in Lake Starlight, I realized as I got older that most of my friends’ parents hold him in high regard. He even said he might allow me to get a tattoo before I turn eighteen, but I better be sold on the design.
Asher takes after my dad in the fact they’re always doing something for someone else. Fundraisers, charity auctions, Dad letting someone use his truck. Asher likes to hang out at Great-Grandma Dori’s old folks’ home on Sundays, reading to the residents, playing chess, or just talking. Not sure what he could possibly have in common with an eighty-five-year-old war veteran, but he finds common ground. I love him, but I never tell him that because hello… he’s my brother.
“Oh!” I hold out my chopsticks toward the screen to get my dad to stop on the picture of my grandparents, Tim and Beth Bailey, who died well before I was born. Grandma is holding one of her nine kids and Grandpa is peering over her shoulder, staring into the camera, his hands lovingly resting on his wife’s shoulders.
Mom looks at my dad and they share a sad smile of sorts.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my sweatshirt, and Mom’s attention quickly shifts in my direction, her usual scowl in place when my phone rings while we’re eating. I’m not sure why she’s so adamant about it—she’s taken multiple business calls during dinners. She just says she’s running a huge company and if someone is calling her, there must be a problem that needs fixing immediately.
I silence my phone without checking the screen, although I’m ninety percent sure it’s Kenzie. She wants to talk about what we’re wearing to my great-grandma’s ninetieth birthday party. Of course I care, but she’s a little too worried. Even mentioned having someone else do our hair and makeup. I said half the people in attendance won’t even see us through their cataracts.
She doesn’t think I know, but I do. She likes my cousin Easton. Officially he’s my cousin, but he’s really more like a brother to me. He, Lance, and I have done everything together since we were born.
First day of pre-school. All three of us in attendance.
First day of kindergarten. All three of us in the same class because it was easier on our parents.
First soccer practice. We were all there for about five minutes. Until Easton kicked the ball, hit Lance in the head, and Lance went to sit on Aunt Brooklyn’s lap. I sat down in the grass and took off my new cleats. In the end, Easton kept with soccer only until T-ball started.
Easton and Lance are close and both of them like Kenzie, which is a problem. I’m hoping Easton acts like a grown-up and doesn’t act on it because it would crush Lance. In truth, Lance is too good for Kenzie. Not that Easton isn’t or that Kenzie is unworthy of either of my cousins. But the girl was in love with Dion for the longest time too. She likes Easton for his reputation and the fact that he’s going to be the starting pitcher and he’s only a sophomore. If she knew that Lance has a trust of millions coming his way once he turns twenty-one, she’d probably like him best. But we’ve all been sworn to secrecy with life-threatening consequences should that info leak.
While Mom goes into the kitchen, Dad restarts the slide show. She stands in the kitchen doorway and says, “I look so young. What happened?” She looks into the mirror, pulling at the sides of her face to make the skin taut.
“You’re beautiful. Stop it.” My dad hands me his fried rice and I pass him the chicken. “You know I’m way too hot to be with anyone who’s not a ten.”
“Ten?” Asher asks.
“You know one through ten, ten being the best,” Dad says.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Seriously, let’s not teach him how to rate girls.”
“I think Mom’s as high as infinity. Infinity plus infinity.” Asher smiles his huge kiss-ass grin at my mom.
She eats it up by leaning over the table and kissing his forehead. “Thank you, Ash, but we don’t rate women. Women are equal to men.”
Dad lets out a playful annoyed growl like “here we go again,” but I know he believes it because he’s always making sure I know how to take care of myself and handle myself in any situation that might come up. He’s even taken me out on his bike a few times. Well, in the parking lot of Northern Lights Retirement, but it still counts.
“Oh, stop it,” Mom says and swats Dad’s leg, only for him to lean forward and pucker his lips.
Oh God, they’re going to kiss.
“Close your eyes, Asher,” I say, shutting mine.
Since I refuse to look, all I hear are Mom’s giggles and Dad’s soft voice—that I thankfully cannot hear because… ew.
“You can open them,” Dad says.
When I do, Mom is on his lap and his face is nuzzled into her neck as if he’s going to suck her blood. I sigh and place my fried rice on the table, going to the kitchen to grab more water.
On my way back, a set of headlights shine through the front window. We all look at one another as though one of us must know who’s here.
Since no one else gets up, I peek through the window and see the Northern Lights Retirement Center van. Great-Grandma eases out and shuffles to the front door. The van pulls away, which means she’ll need a ride home. Excitement fills me because maybe my dad will let me drive her home with him in the car.
I open the door and she strolls past me without even a hello.
“Hello, Great-Grandma,” I say, but all she does is raise her hand with her back to me.
“Where’s Ethel?” my dad asks her.
She sits in my spot on the sofa and I sit in my mom’s spot on the floor. Great-Grandma’s gaze stops on the screen. Asher purses his lips at me from across the coffee table like “what do we say or do?”
“Looking at old pictures?” Great-Grandma asks.
Mom leans forward and presses some buttons on the laptop hooked up to the television. “Yes, the pictures you gave me when you suggested that maybe someone should make a slide show.” Mom stands off Dad’s lap and he groans.
As much as my parents’ lovey-dovey behavior annoys me—especially when my friends are over—I
do hope that whoever I end up with looks at me like my dad looks at my mom. Like he never wants to be far away from her.
“I just meant because you never know when you’d need it and I’m only getting older.”
“Great-Grandma!” Asher shouts as if he’s wondering how she could say that.
She pats his hand. “Don’t worry, I was just at the doctor and the ticker is good.” She pats her chest and we all sigh with relief.
“Are you hungry?” Mom brings Great-Grandma a plate and a fork.
“I could eat.” She assesses all the chopsticks in the containers, no plates to be found.
I’m not sure why my family eats Chinese food like this, but it’s always been the way. Dad says it saves on dishes. It’s one of those weird things you wouldn’t think my mom would go along with, but she does. Sometimes my family makes comments about how my dad changed Mom, but he always says he didn’t change her, he found her hidden deep down under who she thought she was supposed to be.
“I’ll use chopsticks,” Great-Grandma says.
“Are you sure? Do you know how?” my mom asks.
“Savannah, pass me a pair,” Great-Grandma says with no patience.
Mom hands her a set that came with the food and she pulls them apart like a pro, positions them in her fingers, and brings a piece of orange chicken to her mouth. We all watch as if she’s an animal at the zoo, amazed she knows how to use chopsticks.
After she chews, she looks at each of us. “What? You all think I’m so ancient. Let me tell you about the time your grandfather took me to Hong Kong.”
My mom cuddles into Dad’s arms, and Asher and I focus our attention on her. For the next forty-five minutes, Great-Grandma tells us about their trip. Though I never met our great-grandfather, Great-Grandma has a way of making him so vivid that it feels as if we knew him. I wonder who will do that for her one day? Which one of my aunts or uncles will tell stories to the kids about Grandma Dori?