Page 24 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
“How old is he?”
I wished I didn’t have to say. But Iris’s laser eyes burned into my skin until I blurted out, “Nineteen.”
Iris groaned. “Why doesn’t that girl—Wendy? Drive you home?”
“Winnie. She does, sometimes. But sometimes she has other things to do, so…” A tiny part of me hoped that Iris felt guilty about being such a terrible older sister that other people were having to drive me home. I know, I was an unbearable snot back then. I never spared a thought for how much of an inconvenience I was to others, having to get rides from people all the time.
“I don’t like the look of this James guy. Don’t be stupid around him.” With that, she turned and left.
After that, every time I was with James, I felt jumpy and paranoid. Once, I was with Winnie and James on campus when we ran into Iris. I had no choice but to introduce everyone, and Winnie and James seemed impressed with Iris, but I could tell that though Iris found Winnie just about bearable, she could not stand the sight of James. Of course, my friends would never be good enough for Iris.
A handful of times, her friends came over, and they seemed so unbelievably cool to me. Mostly Asian Americans, not a single FOB in the mix, and although they were of Asian ethnicity like me, I felt like we couldn’t be more different. Everything about them was different from me, down to the way we shaped our eyebrows. And the guys were devastating—so handsome, most of them thin, but their arms were ropy with muscle. I had a thing for boys’ arms. To this day, I maintain that the sexiestpart of a man is his arms, especially when he wears button-down shirts and rolls up his sleeves to the elbows. Oh, am I making you uncomfortable? Is it the idea that your grandmother likes men? That can’t be it; you know I like men, because as you so insistently pointed out before, I married one. Is it the idea that your grandmother experiences lust? Deal with it, kid.
Anyway, where was I? Right. Iris’s friends. I remember one of them, a boy of about nineteen, once said, “Your sister’s cute. What’s her name?” Iris had made gagging noises and said, “Fuck off, she’s a minor.” And that was that. I was in my room then, and that one comment alone was enough to make me swoon and plan our wedding date. I didn’t even know his name. When they were gone, I tried to ask, in the most casual way possible, for his name. But Iris saw right through me and said, “Stay away from my friends. They’re no good.”
“If they’re no good, why are you hanging out with them?”
“Because unlike you, little lemming, I have a mind of my own. And I know when they’re being assholes. You, on the other hand, would totally go along with whatever stupid shit they come up with.”
“That’s not true.” I hated how petulant I sounded then, how very much like a child.
“ ‘That’s not true,’ ” Iris mimicked. “Okay, Lil’ Sis.” Then, weirdly, her face softened. “Don’t you have badminton tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you need me to drive you?”
“James is taking me.”
Iris groaned. “Dude, James is a little prick. The sooner you see that, the better.”
“Why do you hate me and my friends so much?”
“Why do you keep hanging out with little pricks?”
“What’s so bad about James?”
Iris didn’t even have to mull this over. She stuck out a thumb. “One, he thinks he’s hot shit.” She stuck out her index finger. “Two, he’s nineteen, and you, my dear lil’ sis, are a minor. What’s he doing driving you everywhere? That’s some predatory bullshit, Magnolia.”
“He’s being nice, and he hasn’t said or done anything bad.”
“Yet,” Iris shot back. “Three, didn’t your friend Winnie warn you off him? Even Winnie knows he’s a little prick.”
“Maybe she said it because she likes him,” I muttered.
“Oh yeah, great train of thought, Mags. Blame it on the girl. She can’t possibly dislike a guy because he’s an actual ass. Nooo, it’s gotta be because she secretly has a crush on him.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just—James is nice.”
Iris narrowed her eyes at me. “You like him, don’t you?”
“No!” I felt as though I had a fever, my face was burning up.
“Oh god. You know what? Whatever. I don’t have time for your bullshit. If you want to waste your time on that little shit, knock yourself out. Just…Don’t come crying to me when he gets tired of you and throws you away for the next new thing he sees.”
Tears flooded my eyes, and my nose started running. “Why are you always so mean to me?”
Iris opened her mouth. Then she closed it. “Whatever,” she muttered, and strode back into her room, slamming the door behind her.
