Page 26 of That Thing You Brew
“Vell? Are you even listening at all?”
“I am, and I can afford to hire help,” I repeated for the umpteenth time.
“It’s a money suck. You’ve vorked too hard to throw your money avay on a crumbling ruin from the past!”
“I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” I didn’t like the edge to my voice, but Dad was being impossible. The chateau was our history, our legacy. Just because he didn’t want it didn’t mean future generations wouldn’t. Schwannenschloss had survived enemy raids, world wars, and wild weather. It meant something to Opa and Oma, and it meant something to me.
“I cannot and vill not.” Dad was going to keep persisting until he wore me down. That was his method, but I wouldn’t fall for it this time.
“Then I have nothing else left to say,” I replied. “I need to get to the gym.”
“This conversation isn’t over.”
Didn’t I know it. “Bye, Dad.”
The conversation with my father left me feeling heavy. I didn’t want to wallow or feel guilty or get sucked into my own head. After tossing and turning for an hour, I did the one sure thing that always turned around a bad day or lifted me up when I felt low: the Sister Chat.
Karina had started the chat a couple of years ago when my parents had given her a phone to keep in touch with them while she was at the rink. With me playing in Colorado, Dani in college, and Dad playing in charity golf tournaments, Mom often had to leave Karina at the rink while she drove Edyta to dance class or whatever extracurricular she was trying out that year.
When Edyta got a phone this year, she was added to the chat, and the tone had changed from sweet I-miss-yous and wish-you-were-heres to bruh-when-are-you-coming-homes and TMI recounts of the latest happenings in her third-grade class.
Another addition from Edyta was her weekly Edyta Edict. She’d learned the word the first week of school and thought saying it out loud was hysterical, and so the next obvious step for her was to use it and overuse it.
This week’s edict was “Read your sister a Christmas story.” I liked that one.
Thinking about my sisters always made me smile. I opened the chat and typed out a message, taking a chance they’d be up early.Guess who’s coming back to Schwannenschloss?
Karina was the first to respond.Don’t mess with me, bruh. If it’s not you, that’s mean.
It’s me. And hi to you, too.I added a crazy face emoji.
Oh good! Cause we’re all super sad. I need Big Brother Hugs.
I know how you feel, kiddo,I thought.No shortage of those, ever.
Edyta’s first message came through then, a GIF of a hairy-faced lumberjack peeking out from behind a tree. It was quickly followed by a GIF of a newscaster with the caption, “We apologize for the interruption.” And still another, a toddler pulling on his mother’s shirt and saying “Hey!”
You’re good, Ditty,I texted back, bracing myself for her signature non-word communication.
A string of crying emojis followed by GIFs of crying anime characters in rapid succession.
Poor kiddo. I hadn’t thought about how hard Opa’s death might hit her. She’d cried when we lost Oma five years ago, but she didn’t have much of a memory of it, nor our German grandmother, having been so young when we’d visited. Oma hadn’t traveled more than a few times to Seattle. Mom’s parents were closer in proximity, and the girls naturally bonded to them more. But in the last few years, as Opa’s health declined, my parents had spent more time at the chateau and the little girls got to know him like Dani and I had when we were their ages.
It’s going to be okay, Ditty. He’s at peace now. No more pain, no more struggling to breathe. You’ll see him again one day.
Rows of crying emojis.
Karina was able to get a message in before Edyta’s next GIF.Dani’s here with us now. We’re okay. But we’re glad you’re coming.
I am, too.My heart warmed, and I was suddenly antsy.Tell Dani I’ll text her my flight info.
I will,Karina replied.
Edyta sent GIFs of a smiling cartoon airplane, Carlton Banks dancing the Carlton, and Ridgie the Bear, our Denver Edge mascot, throwing confetti in the air.
I wondered if they knew there were GIFs of me.
Well, they’d know now. I typed my name into the search and selected the one of me scoring my first NHL goal. It was on a breakaway and I’d been clear to the net. It went in five-hole, through the goalie’s legs, and as I dropped to one knee for my post-goal celly, I made the mistake of looking at my on-ice teammates headed my way to congratulate me—and I skated right into the boards—hard. They piled on top of me and then helped me up. Luckily no one got injured, but boy did I feel sheepish.
