Page 39 of OMG Christmas Tree
Me: I could use some of your holiday energy. Mom has us cleaning out our childhood.
Nick: Wow, the whole thing? Childhood covers a lot of ground.
Me: You’re telling me.
Nick: All I’ve got is this mistletoe, see...
I chewed at the inside of my cheek, fighting back a smile.
Pounding sounded on the door. Only Derek pounded at doors like that.
“Just a minute. Gosh!” I was suddenly twelve again. I flung the door open. “You’ve been stomping. It’s so loud.”
Derek lumbered in and set a box in the middle of the room. The most inconvenient location possible. “I wake up at five fifteen every morning. Hit the gym and head to the office.”
“You’re so corporate.”
He rolled his eyes. “Welcome to life with a real job.”
The breath left my chest like I’d been punched. “I have a real job.”
“You know what I mean.”
I folded my arms. “No, I don’t know.”
He’d already backed out of the room, returning to the attic ladder. “I’m salaried. I have clients and benchmarks and company gainsharing.”
I stepped over the box and out into the hall. “Sometimes I’m the only one to open or close the cafe. I book our entertainment and coordinate our rental space. All in addition to making drinks and serving customers.”
Derek disappeared up the ladder. “Can you get this?”
He handed down a box labeled with my name. I shoved the box next to the other one in the Miami room. “You don’t think I have a real job?”
He backed down the ladder. “I think you’re intent to prove you do.”
“So, it’s not a career. So what?”
“Why are you so bothered by it?”
“I’m bothered by you. And Mom. And Stu. They want me to go back to college.”
“So, go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t?”
I grunted my frustration.
“You’re smart. You could be doing more if you wanted. Dad—”
“Don’t tell me what Dad would have wanted. Dad supported my move to Chicago.”
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. I guessed it was better than a shove, what he would have done as a kid. “Isupport your move to Chicago. I told your friends yesterday you had a cool apartment and I meant it. You’re doing your thing.”
He rubbed his eyes, the time difference starting to set in. “All I’m saying is you seem bothered by the comments, and if you’re bothered, do something. You don’t have to do what I do. Figure it out.”
He acted so cavalier about it. Figure it out. Figurelifeout. Sure. Fine. Easy.
