Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Page 54
Margot takes off her shoes and opens the door to the shoe closet and sees how stuffed it is—Trina has a lot of shoes, too. “Geez, this closet is packed,” she says, shoving Trina’s cycling shoes to the side to make room for her booties.
After we lug her suitcases upstairs and Margot changes into comfy clothes, we come back down for a snack while Daddy fixes dinner. I’m sitting on the couch, chomping on chips, when Margot suddenly stands up and declares that she’s going to go through the shoe closet and get rid of all her old shoes. “Right now?” I say, my mouth full of chips.
“Why not?” she says. When Margot gets it into her head to do something, she does it right away.
She dumps everything out of the shoe closet and sits on the floor cross-legged, going through piles, deciding which ones to keep and which to donate to the Salvation Army. She holds up a pair of black boots. “To keep or to toss?”
“Keep them or give them to me,” I say, scooping salsa with a tortilla chip. “They look so cute with tights.”
She tosses them in the keep pile. “Trina’s dog sheds so much,” Margot grouses, plucking dog fur off of her leggings. “How do you ever wear black clothes?”
“There’s a lint roller in the shoe case. And I guess I don’t wear that many black clothes?” I really should wear black more often. Every fashion blog emphasizes the importance of a little black dress. I wonder if there will be a lot of occasions for a little black dress at college. “How often do you get dressed up at Saint Andrews?”
“Not that often. People mostly wear jeans and boots when they go out. Saint Andrews isn’t that dressy of a place.”
“You don’t get dressed up even to go to a wine-and-cheese night at your professor’s house?”
“We get dressed up for high table dinners with professors, but I’ve never been invited to one’s house. Maybe they do that at UNC, though.”
“Maybe!”
Margot holds up a pair of yellow rain boots. “Keep or toss?”
“Keep.”
“You’re no help. You’ve voted to keep everything.” She tosses the rain boots into the cardboard giveaway box.
It seems both of my sisters are pretty ruthless about throwing away old things. When Margot’s done sorting through everything, I go through the box one more time to see if there isn’t anything I can save. I end up taking her rain boots and a pair of patent-leather Mary Janes.
* * *
That night I’m heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth when I hear Trina’s hushed voice coming from Margot’s room. I stop in the hallway to listen like a little spy, like Kitty. “This is a little awkward, but you left this in the bathroom, so I stuck it in a drawer just in case you wanted to keep it private.”
Margot’s cool voice returns, “Keep it private from whom? Kitty?”
“Well, from your dad. Or whoever. I just wasn’t sure.”
“My dad’s an obstetrician. It’s not like he’s never seen birth-control pills before.”
“Oh, I know. I just . . .” Lamely she says again, “I just wasn’t sure. If it was a secret or not, I mean.”
“Well, thanks. I appreciate the thought, but I don’t keep secrets from my dad.”
I scurry back to my bedroom before I hear Trina’s reply. Eek.
* * *
The day before graduation, Peter comes over to hang out at the house. I’m sewing little flowers onto my graduation cap, Kitty’s watching TV on the floor on her beanbag, and Margot’s shelling beans into a mixing bowl. She has a recipe she wants to try out for dinner tonight. A wedding show is on the TV, one of those who-had-the-best-wedding type programs.
“Hey, for your dad’s wedding, what about one of those sky-lantern ceremonies, where you light up the lantern and make a wish and release it into the sky?” Peter pipes up. “I saw it in a movie.”
I’m impressed. “Peter, that’s a really nice idea!”
“I saw that in a movie too,” Kitty says. “Hangover Part Two?”
“Yeah!” I give them both a look. Peter is quick to ask, “Isn’t that an Asian tradition? Could be nice.”
“It’s not a Korean tradition, it’s Thai,” Kitty says. “Remember, the movie takes place in Thailand?”
“Not that it matters, because it’s not like Trina is even Asian,” says Margot. “Why would she need to appropriate Asian culture into her wedding just because we’re Asian? It doesn’t have anything to do with her.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “She wants us to feel included. The other day she was saying it might be nice to acknowledge Mommy in some way.”
Margot rolls her eyes. “She didn’t even know her.”
“Well, she knew her a little. They were all neighbors, after all. I don’t know, I thought during the ceremony, like, maybe the three of us could light a candle. . . .” I trail off because Margot doesn’t look at all convinced. “It was just an idea,” I say, and Peter makes a yikes face at me.
“I don’t know, I think that sounds kind of awkward? I mean, this wedding is about Trina and Daddy starting a new life together, not the past.”
“That’s a good point,” Peter agrees.
Peter works hard to impress Margot. He’s always taking her side. I pretend to be annoyed by it, but really I am touched. Of course he should take her side. It’s his job to take her side. It shows that he gets how important her good opinion is to me, and he gets the place she has in my life. I could never be with someone who didn’t understand how important my family is to me.
When Margot leaves to take Kitty to piano lessons, Peter says, “Your sister is really not loving Ms. Rothschild, huh.” Peter still hasn’t gotten the hang of calling Ms. Rothschild Trina, and he likely never will. In our neighborhood, none of the kids growing up called the adults by their first names. Everyone was Miss or Mrs. or Mr., except for Daddy, who was Dr.
“I wouldn’t say Gogo dislikes Trina,” I say. “She likes her; she just isn’t used to her yet. You know how Trina is.”
“True,” he says. “I also know how your sister is. It took her forever to warm up to me.”
“It wasn’t forever. You’re just used to people liking you from the very first minute they meet you.” I give him a sidelong look. “Because you’re so very charming.” He scowls, because I don’t say it like a compliment. “Gogo doesn’t care about charm. She cares about real.”
After we lug her suitcases upstairs and Margot changes into comfy clothes, we come back down for a snack while Daddy fixes dinner. I’m sitting on the couch, chomping on chips, when Margot suddenly stands up and declares that she’s going to go through the shoe closet and get rid of all her old shoes. “Right now?” I say, my mouth full of chips.
“Why not?” she says. When Margot gets it into her head to do something, she does it right away.
She dumps everything out of the shoe closet and sits on the floor cross-legged, going through piles, deciding which ones to keep and which to donate to the Salvation Army. She holds up a pair of black boots. “To keep or to toss?”
“Keep them or give them to me,” I say, scooping salsa with a tortilla chip. “They look so cute with tights.”
She tosses them in the keep pile. “Trina’s dog sheds so much,” Margot grouses, plucking dog fur off of her leggings. “How do you ever wear black clothes?”
“There’s a lint roller in the shoe case. And I guess I don’t wear that many black clothes?” I really should wear black more often. Every fashion blog emphasizes the importance of a little black dress. I wonder if there will be a lot of occasions for a little black dress at college. “How often do you get dressed up at Saint Andrews?”
“Not that often. People mostly wear jeans and boots when they go out. Saint Andrews isn’t that dressy of a place.”
“You don’t get dressed up even to go to a wine-and-cheese night at your professor’s house?”
“We get dressed up for high table dinners with professors, but I’ve never been invited to one’s house. Maybe they do that at UNC, though.”
“Maybe!”
Margot holds up a pair of yellow rain boots. “Keep or toss?”
“Keep.”
“You’re no help. You’ve voted to keep everything.” She tosses the rain boots into the cardboard giveaway box.
It seems both of my sisters are pretty ruthless about throwing away old things. When Margot’s done sorting through everything, I go through the box one more time to see if there isn’t anything I can save. I end up taking her rain boots and a pair of patent-leather Mary Janes.
* * *
That night I’m heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth when I hear Trina’s hushed voice coming from Margot’s room. I stop in the hallway to listen like a little spy, like Kitty. “This is a little awkward, but you left this in the bathroom, so I stuck it in a drawer just in case you wanted to keep it private.”
Margot’s cool voice returns, “Keep it private from whom? Kitty?”
“Well, from your dad. Or whoever. I just wasn’t sure.”
“My dad’s an obstetrician. It’s not like he’s never seen birth-control pills before.”
“Oh, I know. I just . . .” Lamely she says again, “I just wasn’t sure. If it was a secret or not, I mean.”
“Well, thanks. I appreciate the thought, but I don’t keep secrets from my dad.”
I scurry back to my bedroom before I hear Trina’s reply. Eek.
* * *
The day before graduation, Peter comes over to hang out at the house. I’m sewing little flowers onto my graduation cap, Kitty’s watching TV on the floor on her beanbag, and Margot’s shelling beans into a mixing bowl. She has a recipe she wants to try out for dinner tonight. A wedding show is on the TV, one of those who-had-the-best-wedding type programs.
“Hey, for your dad’s wedding, what about one of those sky-lantern ceremonies, where you light up the lantern and make a wish and release it into the sky?” Peter pipes up. “I saw it in a movie.”
I’m impressed. “Peter, that’s a really nice idea!”
“I saw that in a movie too,” Kitty says. “Hangover Part Two?”
“Yeah!” I give them both a look. Peter is quick to ask, “Isn’t that an Asian tradition? Could be nice.”
“It’s not a Korean tradition, it’s Thai,” Kitty says. “Remember, the movie takes place in Thailand?”
“Not that it matters, because it’s not like Trina is even Asian,” says Margot. “Why would she need to appropriate Asian culture into her wedding just because we’re Asian? It doesn’t have anything to do with her.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “She wants us to feel included. The other day she was saying it might be nice to acknowledge Mommy in some way.”
Margot rolls her eyes. “She didn’t even know her.”
“Well, she knew her a little. They were all neighbors, after all. I don’t know, I thought during the ceremony, like, maybe the three of us could light a candle. . . .” I trail off because Margot doesn’t look at all convinced. “It was just an idea,” I say, and Peter makes a yikes face at me.
“I don’t know, I think that sounds kind of awkward? I mean, this wedding is about Trina and Daddy starting a new life together, not the past.”
“That’s a good point,” Peter agrees.
Peter works hard to impress Margot. He’s always taking her side. I pretend to be annoyed by it, but really I am touched. Of course he should take her side. It’s his job to take her side. It shows that he gets how important her good opinion is to me, and he gets the place she has in my life. I could never be with someone who didn’t understand how important my family is to me.
When Margot leaves to take Kitty to piano lessons, Peter says, “Your sister is really not loving Ms. Rothschild, huh.” Peter still hasn’t gotten the hang of calling Ms. Rothschild Trina, and he likely never will. In our neighborhood, none of the kids growing up called the adults by their first names. Everyone was Miss or Mrs. or Mr., except for Daddy, who was Dr.
“I wouldn’t say Gogo dislikes Trina,” I say. “She likes her; she just isn’t used to her yet. You know how Trina is.”
“True,” he says. “I also know how your sister is. It took her forever to warm up to me.”
“It wasn’t forever. You’re just used to people liking you from the very first minute they meet you.” I give him a sidelong look. “Because you’re so very charming.” He scowls, because I don’t say it like a compliment. “Gogo doesn’t care about charm. She cares about real.”
