Page 28 of Between Now and Forever
“Are you guys ready to eat?” Della asks, pulling two silver containers from the oven. “Damn, this smells good.”
“I’m starving,” Scottie says.
Cricket wipes lime juice off the counter and then lines the limes, salt, and tequila up in a tidy little row. Scottie plucks paper plates and plastic forks from a cabinet. Della uncovers the trays and finds serving utensils.
They work together like a well-oiled machine. There are no directions given, no questions asked. They move alongside one another with an ease and trust that prickles something in my soul.
What would it be like to be a part of a group like this? To have friends with whom you can simply exist without making excuses or worrying whether they’ll show up—friends who just get into your cabinets and help clean up after you?
Scottie looks at me and smiles.I hope there will continue to be space for me here.
“I’m just sitting here,” I say. “What can I do to help?”
“Come make your plate,” Della says, offering me one.
“Don’t worry. By next month, Cricket will be ordering you around.” Scottie laughs. “Enjoy it while you can.”
Cricket huffs. “That’s not true. I don’t order people around.”
Della looks at my cousin over her shoulder. “You literally texted me this morning and told me to make sure my laundry wasn’t in the living room tonight.”
“Excuse me for not wanting to dine next to your G-string again,” Cricket says, placing an enchilada on her plate.
“You can’t come by unannounced and complain about the state of my life,” Della says. “If I had known you were coming, I would’ve put my stuff away.”
“She has a point, Cricket,” Scottie says.
Cricket groans. “You all are incorrigible.”
Della looks at me and winks. “Come on. Let’s eat in the living room. It’s more comfortable in there.”
We take our food and drinks and follow her through the house.
“Tell us about you,” Scottie says as we sit on the white furniture.It’s clear Della doesn’t have kids.“What do you do for fun?”
I set my plate on the coffee table. I start to speak—to answer her question. But nothing comes out.How do I not know how to answer that?
“No one has asked me that in a very long time,” I say.
“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” Scottie says.
“Oh, you didn’t. It’s just wild that I haven’t thought about what I want to do for fun. I want to have more fun, sure, but I don’t even know what that means.” I frown. “How sad is that?”
Cricket scoops up a forkful of rice. A smirk plays on her lips. “Isn’t that a website you frequent, Della? Adult Fun Finder?”
“Close. But not quite.” Della smiles smugly. “But you should try the websites I frequent, Cricket. Those ironed curtains will pale in comparison.”
I laugh at them. “Speaking of ironing curtains—which is Cricket’s idea of fun, not mine—I do enjoy a good do-it-yourself project.”
Cricket groans.
“Stop it.” I point my stare at her. “I’m good at them. You only see them through video chat. You’ve never actually seen one of my completed masterpieces in person.”
“Because every time Peter and I would come to Boston, you’d insist on meeting us in the city.”
“Because the city is fun. I loved having an excuse to do all the things with you instead of you sitting around my house fixing everything.”
“Oh, I would not ...” She stops, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “Okay.Maybe I would’ve done that.”
