Page 22 of Kissing is the Easy Part
To my horror, my dad slaps a patty into a bun and hands it over with the barbecue clamps. Grease glistens on the surface as Flora reaches for it.
“Let me get you a plate.” Her dress is way too nice for this.
She shakes her head. “Burgers are to be enjoyed with hands.” With that, she takes a bite and munches. “Hey, Mr. Foster?”
“Yeah?”
“This burger.” She points at it. “Isout of this world.I’m serious, this is really,reallygood.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Dad says over the smoke.
Flora’s eyes flick over the bags of buns left. We’re fully stacked. “Would it be greedy if I had another?”
“You can have as many as you want.” Dad is already making her another.
Flora smiles at my mom. “Did you know Sean is at the top of our class? You must be so proud of him.”
“We never have to worry about his grades, that’s for sure.” Mom pours her a cup of lemonade.
“And it’s not just that he’s smart, he’s so nice about it too.” Flora takes a sip. “Delicious.He explains things in a way that just clicks, and you wonder if it’s always been that simple. Not to mention he’s generous with encouragement and makes you feel good about yourself.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.” I quote Einstein as I accept the half-finished burger she hands me.
“Show-off.” She winks at me. “My brother, Jeremy, is brilliant, but it’s different. He has this way of making you feel stupid for not getting it fast enough. If I don’t understand something in three seconds, he lets out this exasperated, dramatic sigh. It’s so frustrating.”
“That’stotallyhow Sean acts around me,” Lindsey says, and everyone chuckles.
We’re the type of family that shops at Walmart and eats macaroni and cheese in front of the TV. Flora stands in our backyard, holding a paper napkin and a cup of lemonade, but it’s as if a supernova has landed. My parents laugh at everything she says. Lindsey gushes nonstop over her dress and makeup, and then somehow feels compelled to ask if she can touch Flora’s purse.
Flora slides the strap off her shoulder and holds it out to Lindsey, who turns the tiny thing over in her hand like it’s a baby bird. Her index finger brushes against the golden logo, one letter at a time, spelling it out. P-R-A-D-A. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Lindsey sighs. “Can I look inside?”
Unbelievable.“For real, Lindsey?” I say.
“Absolutely!” Flora opens the clasp.
“Oh my god!” Lindsey squeals. I pray she won’t pull out a condom in front of my parents. “Is this the new YSL lipstick? The limited edition?”
“Good spot.”
“My friends and I aredyingto get one, but it’s sold out everywhere. Where did you get yours?”
“You know what?” Flora says, noticing the way Lindsey’s fingers are still wrapped around the tube. “You can have it.”
“Seriously?”
“Linz.” Mom frowns. “Don’t be rude.”
“Honestly, Mrs. Foster, this color doesn’t quite work on me,” Flora says, then examines Lindsey’s face. “Your skin tone is just right. You’re doing me a favor if you put it to good use. Scrape off the end and it’s good as new.”
The last thing Lindsey needs is more encouragement. “Can you please come up to my room to check out my makeup collection?”
“I’d love to.” Flora checks the time. “But I want to give you my full attention, and we’re short on time now. How about the next time I’m over?”
A polite dodge. Lindsey is delusional if she thinks Flora has an ounce of interest in her measly middle-school collection.
“How about—” Flora taps on her phone. “Next Saturday afternoon? Wait, early afternoon. I’ll get your number from Sean, and meanwhile I’ll send you some influencers you must follow.”
Lindsey nods like she might self-combust. Before we leave, out of nowhere, Dad pipes up. “Hey, let’s get a photo together before you go.”
