Page 24 of Dear Mr. Brody

@MeAndMyShadow33:Shit. Now I feel old.

@TheL0stB0y: Age is only a number, baby.

@MeAndMyShadow33:Baby? I don’t think we’re there yet.

@TheL0stB0y: You realize I’m going to call you baby from now on.

@MeAndMyShadow33:I could block you.

@TheL0stB0y: Yeah, but you won’t

@MeAndMyShadow33:No?

@TheL0stB0y: Nope…

@MeAndMyShadow33:Why’s that?

@TheL0stB0y: You need those water wings.

@MeAndMyShadow33:You want to be my water wings?

@TheL0stB0y: I thought you’d never ask.

Donovan

“I can’t believe you’ve never been in here.” My sister Olive, also known as Olivia, but only if you wanted her to hate you, smiled at the lady across the counter as she grabbed a bag of fresh bagels. “I worry about you, Van. Living alone in that house, eating take-out every night.”

“Hey now… I’m living my best single dad life, okay?” I smirked, reaching in the refrigerator case and grabbing some lox and cream cheese. “Besides, I think you might’ve forgotten how pathetic you were when you divorced Jonathan.”

“That was three years ago, and I handled it with grace. Thank you very much.” She flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder. “We didn’t have a kid to worry about though. You do.”

“I have a kid? I had no idea,” I said, sarcastic as hell. “You know, ever since you and Owen turned forty, you think you know everything.”

“You sound like a moody teen right now… in case you can’t hear yourself.” She laughed when I pushed the cart a little faster leaving her behind. “See. You’re a child, Van,” she said, raising her voice embarrassingly loud, drawing the attention of everyone at the meat counter.

God, my sister was a shit sometimes. I was the baby of the family, born six years after my twin siblings. We’d been raised in an especially typical mac and cheese American family. My mom stayed home while Dad worked at Emory as a mathematics professor. There was never a reason for it, but Owen and Olive had always tried to parent me, a hobby they hadn’t yet given up. Which I found comical, seeing how neither of them had very stable lives. Olive was a therapist who was hung up on her emotionally abusive, toxic ex-husband, and I was pretty sure she still slept with the asshole. And Owen couldn’t hold down a stable relationship if he tried. Not that he wanted to. The perpetual bachelor. He was too busy trying to be the king of the marketing firm he worked at. Classic workaholic. Honestly, I was the only normal one in the family.

“Why do you do that?” I asked as she sidled in next to me. “I already have two parents who ride my ass enough, I don’t need you or Owen making it worse.”

“Mom and Dad do not ride your ass. You’re their favorite.” She threw a bag of chips into the cart, and I reached in and put it back on the shelf.

“Hey, those are for Anne,” she said and placed them back in the cart.

“Lanie doesn’t want her eating certain types of oils.” I debated if I should buy the chips or not, but after the look of annoyance Olive shot my way, I decided it wasn’t worth the fight. “I know it sounds ridiculous but—”

“Good, because for fuck’s sake, Anne’s ten. The pre-teen years are all about junk food. Or did you forget after eating couscous for over a decade?” Her familiar gray eyes found mine. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t say anything.”

“But you do.”

“Come on, do you really care what kind of oil Anne has?”

I exhaled a long sigh and leaned against the cart. “No… but I want to co-parent the best we can. And I’m being respectful.”

“Which I can appreciate. But your opinions matter too.” She wrapped her arm around me and squeezed once before letting go. “Don’t be a doormat… that’s my job.”

“Jonathan again?”

“I’m such an idiot.” If my sister was the type to cry, I imagined her eyes would have welled up with tears by the way her face paled. “He’s engaged.”

---