Page 58 of All These Beautiful Strangers
“Well, Lonnie is the youngest,” Grace said. “He’s sort of the family clown. And Will is the middle one. He’s always been the brave one, the adventurer. Phillip is the brains of the family. He’s in law school. And Hank is the oldest—he’s sort of rough around the edges but has a good heart.”
“Which one’s your favorite?” Olivia asked.
“I love all of my brothers,” Grace said. “But I guess I’m closest with Hank.”
“Why didn’t you finish college?” Porter asked.
Grace shrugged. “For a lot of reasons,” she said. “I felt like I didn’t have a clear sense of what I wanted to do. And I don’t think a classroom or a degree can teach you the things you really need to know in life. I guess I wanted to be out in the world, living.”
“Those are stupid reasons,” Olivia said.
“Okay, I think we’re done playing,” Teddy said, clapping his hands together. “Charades, anyone?”
“What?” Olivia said. “If someone gives a stupid answer, I’m allowed to say so. It’s part of the game.”
“She’s right, Teddy,” my father said. “Don’t be so sensitive.”
The tips of Teddy’s ears reddened and he stared down at the coffee table.
“What were your brothers’ names again?” my father asked Grace.
Grace was quiet for a moment. “Lonnie, Will, Hank, and Patrick,” she said after a moment.
“You said Phillip before, dear,” my father said. “Not Patrick.”
Grace’s eyes widened slightly. She looked down at her hands. “Did I?”
“Who votes that that was the lie?” Olivia said to the room. “Grace doesn’t have four brothers.”
We all raised our hands except for Teddy.
“Yes, you’re right,” Grace said with a small smile. “That was the lie. I guess I’m out.”
“Don’t give up so easily next time,” Olivia said, clearly annoyed. “You could have tried to convince us that Dad just remembered things wrong.”
“Not likely,” our father said, giving Grace a wink. “I have a mind like a steel trap.”
“My turn now,” Olivia said, sitting up in her chair like a proud peacock.
Grace was mainly quiet for the rest of the game; Teddy silently seethed beside her. When it was Teddy’s turn, his three things were: “My sister, Olivia, is an asshole; I hate my sister, Olivia; and I do not hope that Olivia dies a horrific, painful death.” In the end, my father won the game, and he picked the gold wristwatch out of Olivia’s claws and gave it back to my mother.
Later that evening, I meandered down the hall and into Teddy’s room. I sat casually in the armchair next to his bed and watched him unpack.
Teddy didn’t acknowledge my presence, so I picked up the small rubber stress ball on his nightstand and threw it up in the air, caught it, and threw it up again.
“What?” Teddy finally asked when he could no longer ignore me.
“Nothing. It’s just . . . a surprising choice of guest, is all,” I said, setting the ball back down. “Is it really taking you this long to fuck her?”
Teddy stopped unfolding his shirts. His back was rigid; his ears went red.
“It’s not like that anymore,” Teddy said, not looking at me. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“So you’re what? Serious about her?”
“Would it be so terrible if I was?”
“Teddy, she’s a poor choice,” I said. “She’s very . . . average.”
