Page 8 of Best I Never Had

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you want to play football?”

“I don’t know if I even want to go to college.”

“It’s okay not to know,” I offer with an encouraging smile. “We’re only seventeen. We have at least seven and a half more years of mistakes before we finally know what we’re actually doing with our lives.”

His entire body turns to face me, his movements suddenly urgent. “But have you ever felt like if you were ever given the chance to find out what you wanted to do, it would change everything for you? Like you just need that door to open up so you can finally discover what you’re destined for?”

No, I haven’t, I think. Doors have always been open for me. Mainly because my parents don’t set limits when it comes to my, and my sisters’, future. Every opportunity I’ve wanted to venture into has been laid out for me to test the waters and see if the path I want to take is one I really want to dip my toes in.

“Do you feel like you know what you’re destined for?”

He shrugs, the urgency gone and replaced with the same uncertainty he had when I asked him what colleges he applied to. “It doesn’t even really matter,” he says, trying to hide his somber mood with disinterest.

“Why not?”

“Because whatever my dadwants, whatever he wants me to major in or whatever college he wants me to go to, that’ll be my life.” He sighs, the indifference seeping through his voice along with the blank look of resentment in his eyes. His fingers toy with the petri dishes, sliding them around before I place my hand on his, signaling him to stop before he pushes one off the edge of the table. He quirks a brow at me and pulls his hand away just as I tuck my hand back under my thigh.

“So if he wants you to go to clown college and major in balloon animal design, you’re going to do that?” I ask, unable to hide the sarcasm as I wait for him to deny it. But he doesn’t.

“That’s what it looks like.”

I study his features for a minute. I notice the tic of his jaw and the furrow of his brow causing a shadow to cast over his features. He tucks his head down toward his chest as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“For the record, you would look absolutely ridiculous in an orange fro wig and a red ball nose,” I say, my poor attempt to lighten the mood. “Not to mention those obnoxiously large feet. Like, who are they kidding?”

But it works, because he smirks, his amused eyes looking at me as he pulls his gaze away from hislap.

present

Lucy and I are pushing my love seat and coffee table against the wall to make more floor space for our party. Our tiny kitchen table is filled to the brim with bottles of hard liquor. Party-sized bags of chips and red Solo cups are stacked in a neat pile, waiting to be filled with various alcoholic concoctions.

As soon as we both slump on the soft cushions, our muscles tired from the unfamiliar laborious work, I hear the door click open to find a tired and frizzy-haired Carmen peek through the door in her wrinkled, royal blue medical scrubs.

“Carmen!” Lucy runs to greet Carmen with a warm hug, leaving me sprawled on the couch.

Lucy arrived in front of our building this afternoon, a yellow cab carrying her and her two suitcases for a three-night stay when I was the only one home. This is only the fourth time she’s seen Carmen since she graduated college and moved to Seattle three years ago, making the trek to the opposite coast before finally pursuing her graduate degree. The distance, plus Carmen’s demanding schedule at the hospital, has made it near impossible for the three of us to be in the same time zone.

Carmen squeals as her tired eyes light up, holding our baby sister tight to her chest and smiling warmly over Lucy’s shoulder.

“I missed you!” Lucy squeals.

“I missed you too, baby girl.” She reaches up to ruffle up Lucy’s hair, making her recoil and flinch.

“Ugh! You guys have to stop treating me like a baby!”

“But you are a baby,baby,” I tease, moving a bottle of Ketel One from the table to the freezer.

“Says the person that’s literally eleven months and four days older than me,” she teases with a scrunched expression and her tongue poking out.

Carmen sets her bulky lunch cooler on the kitchen counter before she does a once-over on Lucy. “You lost weight,” Carmen states matter-of-factly, regaining Lucy’s attention.

“I know.” She smiles, proud that she’s withering away. “I started this no carb diet after Labor Day, and it’s doing wonders for my summer body.”

“Summer isn’t until next year.”

“So?” Lucy counters. “It doesn’t hurt to start now.”

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