Page 71 of Second Tide's the Charm
My sister’s mouth drops open. I’ve never seen her speechless, and I half wish I could whip out my phone to capture the phenomenon, but I’m not so stupid as to try. A timer beeps in the kitchen and she blinks out of her momentary silence.
“Adrian, could you give me a hand in the kitchen?” She meets my eyes with a meaningful look it’s impossible for Hope to miss, then gestures at Hope’s soggy jacket in the corner. “You’re welcome to use the dryer for your wet clothes. You could warm up with a shower, too, if you want. The bathroom is connected to my room.”
On her way past me, I brush Hope’s arm with my fingertips and mouth a silent,Thank you. Her lips tilt up in a smile that warms me to the core despite my damp clothes. The warm bubble bursts, though, when I find Iris in the kitchen, waiting for me.
She passes me an oven mitt the moment I enter the kitchen. “Remind me again why you let Hope go?”
“Shh.” I wrench my neck in my hurry to look over my shoulder into the living room, but Hope’s gone, thank goodness. Historically my sister has embarrassed me in front of my crushes and girlfriends more times than the average person’s entire extended family combined. “I didn’tlether go. She left, and I know it was stupid not to try to make amends, but why are you asking now?”
“Because she just made a better, more succinct case for the validity of your work than I’ve ever heard from you.”
“Maybe you haven’t been listening well.”
She’s quiet, and I turn to find her watching me, an indecipherable look on her face. “Maybe not.” The air fryer beeps, and she opens the cupboard and pulls out a bowl. Back to me, she says, “Then again, you haven’t reached out much lately.”
I’ve been nervous to reach out since the day she came to my boat, worried what she’d say about me working with Hope.
“I’ll make more of an effort.” I open the oven and let the heat dissipate until the air clears between us. “Kind of missed hearing you berate my life choices to my face.” I meant to lighten the mood, but it comes out sharper than intended.
“I’ve done a lot of that, haven’t I?” It’s not really a question, so I pull the sheet tray out of the oven in lieu of answering. “Part of it is me trying to be the supportive older sister I wasn’t for all those years.”
She got swept up in college and career while I was still a kid, and that was natural, not her fault. But I still felt like I’d lost my closest friend and confidante, and we never regained the closeness we had before she graduated.
We’ve never talked about my feelings surrounding her departure from my childhood, but my sister’s always been unerringly perceptive. “This is you being supportive?”
“I came out to your boat to help you, did I not?” She pushes her foggy glasses up with a knuckle. “Dramamine wasted.”
“You took seasickness medication to sit on a boat in the marina?”
“Better safe than sorry.” She was traumatized with brutal seasickness on a snorkeling trip when we were kids and vowed never to set foot on a boat of any kind again. I was offended she’d never even offered to see the boat, but now I realize just how serious her aversion is, and how far she’d go to help me out.
“I’ve been trying to be there for you, but sometimes it’s hard not to be overprotective. I’ve seen what happens to public figures when they make the smallest mistake, and I didn’t want that to happen to my brother.”
Her words are a reminder of what Hope risked in joining our channel. I hate the idea that being part of our crew exposes her reputation to harm, but I have to trust her decision to stay with us.
“But you’re clearly happy, and doing good work, if your ex-girlfriend is to be believed.” She’s fishing, and I don’t intend to bite. “I shouldn’t have let my opinions stilt our time together.”
“Is there an apology in there somewhere?”
She dumps the air fryer basket into the bowl. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“Little brothers are supposed to be pests,” I inform her. “I’d be slacking if I made things easy on you.”
Hand on her hip, she smiles. “Yes, Adrian, I’m sorry. Though not as sorry as you ought to be for letting that phenomenal woman slip through your fingers.”
Here we go. “Now who’s being a pest?”
“I’m just saying you’re lucky she stayed after that catastrophic first day.”
That sobers me, fast. “You have no idea. She didn’t even know about our channel when she took the job.”
“And yet, she’s here.”
“I am.” Hope’s voice sends a jolt through me, and I whirl, sending samosas flying. One hits my face, another bounces off my shoulder. A few hit the floor, sliding along the tile like deep-fried hockey pucks.
Hope stops one with her foot. “Now might be a good time to mention we’ve brought groceries.” She caught us talking about her, but she doesn’t look worried. In fact, she looks comfortable, her hair loose, sweatshirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows, a giant pink scrunchie on her wrist. Relaxed, like she belongs here. In my life. In my heart.
She’s here.She stayed, despite everything. For her career, yes. But also, I’m hoping, for me.
