Page 88 of The Boyfriend List
Where: Savannah’s pool house
When: November 1. Be there at nine am, or else.
The ominously written e-card arrives in my text messages bright and early the morning after the night that I should have been going to the SB19 concert with Gloria. Fortunately, I found out from her Instagram stories that she went with Raina. I feel bad that I left her, but at least she’s with someone who loves her.
Someone who can actually show her that they care about her. More than me.
When I don’t respond to the text message after five minutes, my phone rings. Groaning, I let it go to voicemail as I boil water to make a cup of pu’erh tea.
“London, you had better not be running away from this family. I know that we’re more like the dysfunctional Young family inCrazyRich AsiansthanThe Brady Bunch, but you’re still a Young. So be there. Please?”The surprising addition of the wordpleaseat the end of Savannah’s voicemail seals it for me.
I’ve already taken the time off from work to go on vacation with Gloria, leaving me with no excuse to skip.
I reply with a thumbs up emoji and drink my tea, wondering what my siblings could have to say that would warrant this meeting. It’s most likely that Savannah is the instigator.Sheis the one whose wedding was ruined by our parents. That day will probably live on in ignominy forever among our cousins and her friends.
A twinge of guilt flickers in my chest. I hadn’t even thought to text her and see how she was holding up. Instead, I wallowed in self-pity and patted myself on the back for confronting our parents. Never once did I think of how my siblings would be dealing with the fallout. I was too busy focusing on how I had suffered at their hands that I didn’t consider the shock their divorce would be to my brothers and sister as well.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I finish my tea before heading to Savannah’s.
“You made it,” Savannah says when I get out of my car and walk around to the back towards the pool house.
“Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon right now? Or working?” I scan the driveway, spying Perry’s motorcycle and my other brothers’ more sensible cars. "Where’s your husband, anyway?”
“Micah is at work. I’ve been using up my sick days. And our honeymoon wasn’t scheduled for another week, so I’m not missing it. Thanks for coming.”
“I only came for the snacks,” I lie, even though I’m full from my breakfast—leftover garlic fried rice that Gloria insisted I take from her fridge when she left for the Philippines.
We lapse into uncomfortable silence as we walk toward the pool house. Sav and I have never been close. She’s always bossed me around the most out of our siblings. Though she’s closest in age to me, and we’re both lawyers, our personalities have always clashed. She’s bossy. Overbearing. Prone to bending everyone to her will. I just want to keep the peace and make everyone get along.
I guess we both failed in our goals.
“How have you been?” I say.
“Fine.” She’s never this tight-lipped.
My brothers are sprawled across the various pieces of wicker furniture, including Perry who has his feet propped up on a pink lawn flamingo. I perch on the arm of the couch and snag a chip off the bowl on the table. “Who called this meeting?”
All my brothers point at Savannah, like a childhood game of “not it” when Mom would ask who wanted to wash the dishes.
“I wanted you all here to talk about our parents’… divorce.” Savannah says the word ‘divorce’ like it’s a bomb that will detonate if we talk about it too loudly.
“What’s there to talk about?” Perry shrugs, shovelling his chip in a bowl of spinach and artichoke dip. “We all saw it coming, didn’t we?”
Troy, Brooklyn, and Savannah look at him with contempt.
“Well,Isaw it coming,” Perry amends, crunching into the chip. “That’s why I never wanted to come home.”
And here I thought he was always just too busy with work and whatever flavour of the month he was taking on his motorcycle.
I clear my throat. “I never wanted to believe they would actually divorce. Sure, they fought all the time, and complained nonstop about each other…”
Okay, now I really sound like I was in denial.
“You never told us any of that,” Savannah says, sounding surprisingly hurt.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you these things!” The pent-up hurt and rage I’ve held over the past few months—no, years—explodes. “You could have seen it yourself if you ever came home! If you ever bothered to talk to Mom or Dad instead of brushing them off or ignoring them!”
“They don’t tell us that stuff,” Brooklyn says calmly, ever the level-headed one. “I guess they figured since we—well, since I have my own family, they probably didn’t want to burden me with it.”
