Page 62 of Kiss My Glass
Idon’t do well when I’m confronted by other people’s raw emotions. Because I keep my own on such a tight leash, witnessing other people’s running wild makes me super anxious. What would happen if mine got loose? Would I make a fool of myself, get hurt or rejected? I’ve never been eager to risk it.
Not even when I know I’m feeling something I’ve never felt before. There’s a French term for love at first sight,coup de foudre, which literally means a lightning strike. I most definitely did not fall in love with Danny when I first saw him, but this afternoon, that’s exactly how I felt – like I’d been struck by an outside force. It wasn’t lust, because I already know how thatfeels. This was very different – more transcendent than primal. Like it flooded my whole being and lit it up from inside.
As you might guess, I found it terrifying. I shrank into myself, and only barely found the strength to be honest with Danny about my fears. It was a test, instinctive on my part, to see how he’d react. He passed it with flying colors. But my fears haven’t gone away, and nothing else Danny can do or say is going to make them. It’s up to me now.
I had a verymixed reaction when Danny invited Nate out to The Silver Saddle. I was grateful to him for not forcing me to choose between him and my sister. I was disappointed because I wanted to go back to his place – I mean, he owes me a serious sexual favor, right? And I was angry. With my mom, and my sister, for being openly emotional. Andmyselffor finding that so stupidly hard to deal with. As a result, I’ve raided Nate and Shelby’s fridge for beer to take the edge off and am now drinking IPA, eating popcorn, and watching yet another episode of a TV show I may be coming to hate. I’m starting to resent Rory’s close relationship with her mother, and I’m envious of Lorelai’s ability to be funny and articulate at the drop of a hat. Which is ridiculous. They’re fictional characters and someone else writes Lorelai’s lines.
I resent that, too. IfIwas fictional, I could read my own story and know what happens.
Think this had better be my last beer.
Shelby hasn’t said a word since we sat down on the couch, but she’s nibbling on popcorn and seems to be enjoying the show. She laughs when Lorelai jokes about pelting the nurses in the birthing suite with ice chips. The episode ends and Shelby hits pause because she needs to pee. But when she comes back, she doesn’t touch the remote. She sits down on the couch and lets out a sigh.
I don’t know whether to ask her how she’s doing now or just let her be. I may have drunk one too many beers, but that doesn’t mean I’m buzzed enough to cope with another emotional outburst.
I could always talk to her about Danny. Might be nice to share how I’m feeling with my sister.
Or maybe I could avoid all the tricky subjects and talk to her about the crush party? That right there is the coward’s way out and I will take it.
“Danny and I are going to start planning the big crush event tomorrow morning,” I say. “Any particular advice?”
Shelby gives me a startled look, like she’d forgotten I was there. I’ll forgive her. She has a lot on her mind.
“No…” She frowns. “Just make sure Chiara’s dad gets paid. He always wants to give us the cannoli, and I have to literally press the cash into his hands before he’ll accept it. And make sure Iris has help. She might have wrestled a full-grown alligator but she’s almost seventy and it’s not good for her to be standing all day over the grill making sandwiches. Javi can usually find someone who’ll meet Iris’s exacting standards. Javi can also find bouncers to enforce the strictly no-alcohol rule. Ironic, I know, seeing we’re pressing wine grapes, but there are kids around. Ted has a store of extra picnic blankets for people who’ve forgotten theirs. They’re super posh ones that you can roll up and fasten with leather straps. People always try to steal them, so Javi’s bouncers will have to do checks on the way out, too. Not that Ted would care, but we shouldn’t set a precedent. And we’ll have to ask Ted nicely to provide normal non-alcoholic drinks. Last year, they were adding things like sea buckthorn cordial and strawberry tree curd, and I think maybe we could just stick with ice and lemon. And if I’m not having a baby that day, don’t let Nate do anything. Tether him to a hitching post if you have to. And don’t let me think I can sit in a beanbag or we’ll have to call the fire department to hoist me out. The dogs will have to be shut inside, which they’ll hate,so we’ll need to bribe them with treats and let them sleep on the couch, and someone – probably Cam – will have to supervise Ham and Luke so they don’t get overfed or in their excitement accidentally eat someone’s hand…”
She draws breath. “Apart from that, I can’t think of anything.”
“Sure now?”
I’m smiling, but she takes me seriously. “Okay… Well, we’ll also need helpers to make sure people park in an orderly fashion. Farmer Johnston across the road always lends us his field, but if we don’t have people in hi-vis vests directing traffic, it ends up like New York in rush hour, all fist-waving and yelling and honking. The noise freaks out Farmer Johnston’s turkeys, so you add frantic gobbling to the cacophony. We’ll need a medical tent for anyone who gets injured or dizzy or has a turkey phobia. Javi has a registered nurse friend who can help out. Porta Potties, but you probably had those on the list already. Don’t let anyone sneak into the main house to use the bathroom because then the dogs will get out and steal everyone’s sandwiches. Sunblock stand. Water. Smelling salts for when I inevitably have a fit of the vapors…”
This time, I’ll assume she’s finished. Otherwise, we could be here all night.
“Grapes are gaining color fast,” I say.
“Mm,” is Shelby’s response.
“Your favorite time of the year.” Can’t accuse me of not making an effort.
My sister looks over at me. Her eyes are still reddened from crying, and there are shadows under them from stress and lack of sleep.
“Frankie, did you really hate being brought up here?”
Where did that come from?
“Notallof it,” I say. “I have some fond memories for sure.”
“But it was hard on you,” Shelby persists. “Mom and Dad always so busy, us kids forced to do a lot of the work so Mom and Dad could make ends meet. Never having as much money as our friends. Never taking vacations to places like Disneyland, even though it’s not that far. No PlayStation or even cable TV. No McDonalds or Ben and Jerry’s or Krispy Kreme donuts. No shopping at the mall with your friends. It was tough, right?”
“Well, I guess I felt that at the time,” I say. “But now I’m older, I think what I truly missed was Mom and Dad’s attention. I mean, I don’t even like McDonalds! The pickles are great but that special sauce is not special enough to tempt me.”
My attempt at a joke falls flat. If possible, Shelby looks like sadder than before.
“Shel, what’s the matter?” I say. “Why are you asking me all this now?”
Her eyes brim again, and I brace myself. I’m not sure I can handle more tears. But I see her breathe deeply, getting herself under control. I’ve said it before: my sister may be a little flaky but she doesn’t lack courage. Whatever’s bothering her must be serious.
“Frankie, I’m so worried,” she says. “What if my baby grows up the same way we did? What if Nate and I have to work such long hours that we never have time to spend as a family? What if it’s years before the winery turns around, and we have to keep scraping by? We can’t really afford to have this baby, let alone more and?—”
