Page 10 of The Rebound
Louise huffs by the stove. “She wouldn’t answer her phone.”
“There was no signal,” I say, repeating the same curt conversation we’d had last night after her initial relief turned to annoyance. “I tried to call you a dozen times.”
“And you said you were getting a taxi.”
“It all worked out in the end,” Tomasz says pleasantly.
Louise mutters something under her breath and a moment later puts a plate of pancakes in front of me.
Well. This is weird.
We were never a family that ate breakfast together. Breakfast was a slice of toast on the way to school or a bowl of sugary cereal on the weekends. We certainly didn’t sit at the table like a family in a sitcom, not even on special occasions. Not even at Christmas.
“Thanks,” I say, picking up a fork. “This is nice.”
She nods, squeezing half a lemon over hers.
“You should have made American pancakes,” Tomasz says, already several bites into his.
“I love crêpes,” I say quickly as Louise glares at him. Tomasz doesn’t notice. Or maybe he’s just used to it. God knows I am.
Louise and I have never gotten along. We’re only three years apart but might as well have been from different planets. While I was studying between house parties and imagining a life beyond the border of my town, Louise was writing letters to local politicians and begging our parents to drive her to Dublin for the latest protest. She was an ecowarrior before it was cool, driven by some grave sense of injustice since birth. I don’t know where it came from. Definitely not my parents, who treated it all with bemused indifference, buying organic food at her urging and dutifully recycling. I took no interest in her marches or her petitions. Saturday mornings were for sleeping in, not standing in the cold collecting money for a seal sanctuary.
I know she resents me for leaving like I did, straight out of school without so much as a “see you later,” but the real knife in the back was going on to work at a place like MacFarlane, which in her mind did nothing to help the world and everything to ruin it.
I mean, she wasn’t wrong.
“What’s the plan for today?” Tomasz asks when neither Louise nor I attempt conversation.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say. “I’m still pretty tired. I might just relax and catch up with some people tomorrow.”
Louise’s eyes flick to mine at the last bit as if to ask “like who?” but she takes a sip of her tea instead. “The Baileys are coming over for lunch if you want to join.”
Pat and Susan Bailey from next door. They’ve lived beside us since before I was born. We’ve always been on friendly terms, but her tone makes it clear she neither expects nor wants me to be here. Probably because I’ll be the focus of attention. And even though it’s the exact opposite of what I want, the younger sister in me rears her ugly head. “Sounds great.”
“You don’t have to if you’re too tired.”
“I’m not,” I say, smiling sweetly at her. “I’d love to see them.”
“But you just said—”
Tomasz clears his throat.
“Great,” she says smoothly. “They’re coming at one-thirty.”
I nod down at my plate, trying to hide my smirk. But Louise always knows when to strike. Even when she doesn’t mean to.
“How’s Tyler doing?”
I shove a forkful of pancake into my mouth, eating far quicker than I usually would. “He’s good,” I say. “Busy.”
It’s not a lie. He probably is busy.
“Is he still planning to meet you here?”
I nod, poking around the plate. “As far as I know. Depends on his workload.” She’d asked almost as an afterthought whether Tyler would be coming, probably not expecting me to say yes. But I did say yes. The word popped out in my hurry to convince her everything between us was alright and now it was just one more lie to keep track of.
“It would be nice to finally meet him in person,” she says. “At least before the wedding.”
