Page 13 of Friendshipped
Mom pinches her eyebrows together and her lips tighten. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know she’s giving dad a look. Poor woman. Her hormones have taken over like an alien invasion.
“One of my best daughter girls,” Dad quickly clarifies. “After her mom, of course. Who is my very best girl, and who isn’t my daughter, obviously.”
My father’s eyes dart sheepishly back and forth between me and Mom.
“I’ll just be in the living room …” he sputters, thumbing over his shoulder, as he backs up and retreats to safety.
Mom and I look at one another and break into laughter.
“You see?” she asks, picking up a hand-held mister and spritzing herself while moving the neck of her dress away from her skin. “I’ve scarred him for life. Come to think of it, the word menopause serves as a warning label:Men, you betterpause.”
I chuckle and smile at Mom. “You’re not that bad.”
She cocks her head at me. “Your dad’s a saint disguised in sock sandals and a dad bod. And I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I’m going to tell him so too.”
My parents’ marriage makes me ache for a man I can build a life with. Mom and Dad have their flaws and conflicts, but they’ve stuck together through highs and lows. Despite little annoyances I imagine most couples experience, they love one another deeply.
I want what they have. I’d settle for a decent date at this point in time. But I’m not likely to find a man in Bordeaux with our population of two and a half thousand. We have exactly sixty-six guys between the ages of twenty-one and thirty and ninety-two young women. Yep. Those are some stacked odds.
Many of those young people are already married. Of the few unattached Bordeaux bachelors, some already dated my sister which means they are forever off limits. Others put frogs or garter snakes in my locker or backpack (and still would). The rest want a farm wife. Nothing wrong with that, but I’m not going to be a farm wife. I’m also not desperate enough to start dating Buddy at the Dairyland Drive-In, just so we’re clear, even if it would mean free slushies for life.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if I ever want to find a good man. My feelings for Trevor make things even more complicated. Even when I have gone on dates or been in relationships, I inevitably end up comparing the guy to Trevor. No one measures up to him.
My sister comes in from the back yard. “Mom, you need to water those tomatoes a bit more.”
Felicia turns to me. “Oh, hey, Lexi!”
She’s wearing an adorable outfit as always and has her streaked blonde hair up in a ponytail. Every strand obediently stays in place. My sister is the type of person I would normally avoid if we weren’t related. She’s always so on point, and I’m so—not. The thing is, she’s also really sweet. Perfectionistic, overachieving, and in everyone’s business, but she’s got a big heart. And I love her. In small doses.
“Jayme’s boyfriend broke up with her yesterday. She’s at my house for the weekend,” I inform mom and Felicia. “I may cut out early to go check on her.”
“Oh! I’ll come!” Felicia offers.
“You don’t have to,” I say.
My sister practically salivates over the prospect of yet another life she can turn around with positivity and a routine. These are her two secret weapons and she wields them indiscriminately on any downtrodden person she encounters.
“Slow your overhaul,” I say. “She just found out he was cheating last night. It’s all fresh.”
“I can be sensitive,” Felicia says with a somewhat hurt look on her face.
“I know you can,” I say, smiling over at her. “You also can go full blownWhat Not to Wear meets Home Improvementon someone and I want Jayme to have the time she needs to feel her way through the grief. Maybe she’ll be ready for the Felicia treatment in a few weeks.”
“The Felicia Treatment,” she muses, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. “I like it.”
Mom shakes her head and grins.
I look over at her. “Was there nothing you could do to tame this in our younger years?”
“Only God can part the Red Sea,” my mom says. “Your sister is a force of nature. There’s only so much a mom can do. Besides, look at her.”
I do.
She’s a happy, successful, amazing twenty-six-year-old woman in a relationship with a happy, successful, amazing man who proposed to her earlier this year. What’s to fix?
Why do I suddenly feel so incomplete and in need of a makeover? It happens. My family doesn’t do it to me. I mean, yes, Felicia has her plans to better me and my life. But, honestly, they love me as I am in all my quirky, unique, incomplete glory. And Trevor does too. That should be enough. But, these days I’m not sure it is.
6
