Page 59 of Love Redesigned
“Wow,” Mom said when I finished my tale. “That’s some story.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “But seriously, Mom. I have no idea what got into Isaac. It was so unlike him.”
“What do you mean unlike him? That sounds just like something your brother would do.”
I scoffed. “No, it doesn’t. Calling me Dandelion and hiding all my hairbands in the back of the toilet sounds like something he would do.”
Mom laughed. “He was ten when that happened, Dani. Cut him some slack.”
“It was just so out of the blue,” I said. “We haven’t gotten along in forever, and all of a sudden he’s doing this huge nice thing for me. I mean, it’s amazing. I’m grateful. I just didn’t expect it.”
“Dani,” Mom said. “Permission to speak freely?”
I shifted, pulling my knees up close to my chest. If I said yes, she wouldn’t hold back. “Fine, go,” I finally consented.
“You are the most driven woman I know,” Mom said. “Single-minded. Focused. Determined.”
I braced myself. Thebutwas coming.
“But sometimes that single-minded dedication inhibits your ability to see other people.”
My shoulders tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, your brother has always had a heart the size of Fort Sumter.” My heart squeezed at theMom-expression I’d frequently claimed as my own. “He’s been taking care of people since he was tiny. Sitting with the kid on the bus that no one else would sit with. Making people laugh. Making people feel included. You’ve never been very good at seeing that about him. You see an MIT drop out. I see a man who has created an entire online empire based around the notion that random acts of kindness can change the world.”
I rolled my eyes. “His show is all about him, Mom. It’s YouTube. They’re all that way.”
Mom cleared her throat. “When was the last time you watched his show?”
I didn’t answer.
“Give your brother the credit he deserves, Dani. He had to swallow a lot of pride to reach out to you in this way. You’ve hurt him with your doubting and scoffing and condescension.”
“That’s not fair,” I finally said. “Maybe that’s what he tells you, but then when he’s aroundme,most of the time he’s constantly making fun of me, cracking jokes, calling me Dandelion. He’s not always nice, Mom. Not to me.”
“Maybe not. But is it possible the jokes are a part of his defense mechanism? He’s so desperate for you to be proud of him.”
I huffed a sigh. “I am proud!”
“Have you ever told him that?”
“It’s not like he’s spent a ton of time being proud of me,” I said defensively. “He’s just as critical of my career choice as I am of his.”
“He’s never been critical of what you do; he’s been critical of LeFranc. There’s a difference.”
She had a point there. “Yeah. I’ve seen some of that since coming home. Did you know he has a picture of my prom dress on his phone?”
Mom chuckled. “That dress was something else.”
“That dress was horrible.”
“You were sixteen.”
“And I thought I was the stuff, too. I was so proud of that dress.”
“Isaac was proud of that dress. Do you remember all the time he spent ironing the seams for you?”
I closed my eyes. “And then when my sewing machine broke, he pinned the zipper for me while I fixed my hair.”
