Page 86 of Someone Like You

‘Are you staying here?’ I ask, tempering my tone to sound ultra-happy about it.

‘Just till the wedding. Mom is being impossible and I swear if I had to spend another night under that roof…’ She looks lovingly at Mom. ‘That’s why I asked Aunt Gina if I could crash in Issy’s old room.’

‘Oh, cool! That’s awesome,’ I say, faking a smile. I finally catch Mom’s eye and she grimaces at me guiltily.

‘Plenty of time to catch up on that over dinner,’ says Mom. ‘Raff, Roland, how about you take the bags upstairs to Gaby’s room and, Gaby, you can help me in the kitchen.’

‘I’ll bring these,’ says Monica, grabbing a carry-on with each hand and jogging up the stairs.

I turn to Mom, my eyes narrowed. ‘Sooo… I just flew long-haul. Do you mind if I freshen up first?’ I ask, jerking a thumb towards upstairs.

‘Plenty of time for that too,’ she sayswaytoo cheerily. She beckons me with her hand and heads back to the kitchen. I follow, catching a waft of the aroma from the stove as I enter the kitchen. She’s making creamy salmon and dill linguine – my favourite.

‘So, busting out the big guns, I see.’

‘What’s that?’ she asks, playing dumb.

‘You’re buttering me up with my favourite dish.’

She shrugs as if it hadn’t occurred to her.

‘Anything you want to tell me?’ I ask.

‘Monica is staying in Issy’s old room,’ she tells me in a stage whisper.

‘Yeah, I got that part,’ I retort drily. ‘Butwhy?’

‘You heard her. Chrissy’s being impossible and it’s getting worse every day. Yesterday, the embossed paper napkins arrived. Now, keep in mind these are only for cocktail hour, which is immediatelyafter the ceremony, so Monica and Brian have time to get their photos taken…’

‘And?’

‘Oh.’ She shakes her head at herself. ‘The napkins. They were – get this,’ she says pausing for effect, ‘ecruand noteggshell.’

‘Are those colours?’

‘Yep.’ She widens her eyes and nods as if this one anecdote says everything about my aunt’s behaviour. And it does.

‘Monica didn’t care – they’re basically the same colour – but Chrissy went through the roof! I offered Monica sanctuary to avoid World War Three.’

Mom and Uncle Marv are the only people who still call my aunt ‘Chrissy’, a name she abandoned when I was around five. I have a vivid memory of her shouting at me when I forgot to call her ‘Aunt Christine’. You would have thought I’d called her a bitch. It was a lot for a five-year-old – I avoided her for nearly a year after that.

‘That’s veryniceof you, Mom, and Aunt Christine clearly needs to chill. But where’s Raff supposed to sleep?’

‘Your dad’s put an air mattress on your bedroom floor.’

‘An air mat— But I get headaches if I sleep on an air mattress.’

I had to be collected early from 7th Grade camp because my head was pounding well into the next day. I missed out on ziplining, which for a 7th-grader was devastating.

‘I remember. It’s for Raff.’

‘Raff is six-four, Mom. He’s not going to fit on an air mattress.’

‘What do you want me to do, Gabriela?’ she asks, chopping the dill with far more ferocity than required.

Uh-oh, I’ve been here ten minutes and Mom’s already using my full name. If I’m not careful, she’ll ground me and I’ll miss the wedding – or worse,Christmas.

‘Sorry. It’s fine. You’re a good aunt.’

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