Maggie
Vivian and I find a spot a healthy distance from the rest of the party, sitting on the worn-down patch of grass where Shana’s
family swing set used to be. Her parents finally got rid of it last week to make more space in the yard for this party. Shana
said her dad cried as he disassembled it.
“You want some?” Vivian asks, holding out some fancy bottle of sunscreen. “It’s bright out here.”
“I’m good, thanks.” I definitely have not sunscreened yet today, but I can’t start this conversation by admitting weakness.
“Okay, good.” She cracks open a grapefruit LaCroix—I guess she pulled it out of one of the big pockets on her pants?—and takes
a sip. “Feel free to have some if you want.”
“Thanks. I hydrated a lot before the show.”
Vivian nods.
“So you’re back from Europe,” I say. I can’t lead with the Carter stuff. Need to warm up into it.
“I am.”
“How was it?”
“It was great. It was really great.”
“Nice!”
“Yeah.”
I pull out a blade of grass. I try to tie it into a knot.
“As great as living with Dad for a week?” I ask.
Vivian smiles. “Maybe even a little greater, if you can imagine that.”
“Wow.” If I don’t bring this up now, I might avoid it forever. “Vivvy, I’m sorry I dated Carter.”
Vivian sighs, takes a long sip of seltzer. “It’s not . . . I think keeping it a secret from me for so long was even more offensive
than you being with him.”
“I know.” I grab the LaCroix out of her hand and take a chug; she made it look so good. “But I didn’t want to hurt you. I
was trying to protect you. And instead it was the biggest betrayal.”
“Not the biggest,” Vivian says, swiping the can back. “I mean, it wasn’t good. But it wasn’t— Do you think I’m so pathetic that I couldn’t
handle you being with someone I dated when I was a sophomore in high school?”
“It wasn’t just someone you dated ! That breakup was a big deal. We talked about it a lot! Because it sucked!” My face feels hot, from my passion but also because,
well, we are getting a ton of sun. “And, Vivvy, to me you are the opposite of pathetic. That’s part of the problem! You’re a goddess, and I’m, like, this street urchin.”
“What? That is not— That’s not at all how I see it.”
“Can I have that sunscreen actually?”
“Of course.” Vivian hands it over, and I squirt some into my hand.
“You were right about the brightness,” I say, rubbing it into my cheeks and my neck. “You’re right about everything.”
“Maggie. Come on.”
“No, really! You are. And you know what to do in every situation, and people love you, and that’s just what it is. Another reason I never wanted Carter to know he dated you. I was worried he’d be like, Oh seriously? What am I doing here with this street urchin? Lemme make that happen again.”
“That’s silly.”
“But it’s how I feel,” I say, and dammit, here come the tears. “I stopped trying to match up to you a long time ago. You set
the bar so high, and Mom has always made that very clear, and I can’t . . . I can’t compete. I can never compete.”
“Oh, Mags.” Vivian reaches out a hand; I take it as I cry. “I wish I had a tissue to give you—”
“No!” I say, wiping snot away with my available hand. “I’m so fucking glad you don’t have a tissue! Please. It’s such a relief
to hear there’s something you haven’t thought of.”
Vivian laughs. “Fair enough.”
“But even though I can’t compete,” I say, “it doesn’t mean I, like, want you to feel bad. So when Carter first started flirting
with me, and I was maybe starting to like him, I knew how shitty he’d been to you. So of course I wasn’t going to be with
him. But then it . . . I don’t know, it kind of felt nice to think that Carter might be into me. That I could be on your level.”
“You’re always on my level,” Vivian says, gripping my hand tighter.
“I’m not. You don’t have to say that. You went to an Ivy League school, you’re good at lots of things, people are drawn to
y—”
“Maybe, but I’m also kind of a mess!”
“Nice try,” I say. There’s a roar of laughter from near the appetizer table.
Vivian doesn’t seem to notice it. “No, really,” she says, looking down at our joined hands. “I’ve always admired that you
don’t feel constantly compelled to hold yourself to this ridiculously high standard.”
“Uh,” I say. “Thank you?”
“I’m being serious, Maggie!” Vivian is so animated that she accidentally knocks over the LaCroix. “Oops.”
It leaks into the grass before she lets go of my hand to pick it back up.
“Sometimes I see how you’re not uptight about things like I am, or obsessed with doing things perfectly, or pleasing everybody,
and I’m so jealous. And honestly, when I understood at the wedding that Carter was there for you and not me, I think I . . .”
Vivian taps a finger to her lips. It’s her thing when she’s thinking deeply.
“You think you . . . ?”
“I think that part of me, for just a minute, went back to my sixteen-year-old self and felt completely stunned and embarrassed
and pissed that you were with the first guy I ever loved.”
“See, that’s what I was terrified of!”
“But then I came back to myself,” Vivian says. “Me now, who understands I was with Carter a long time ago.” She picks a blade
of glass and tries knotting it like I did. “And when I saw Carter at the wedding, I felt like . . . Like you have all the things I don’t that do make you a good fit for him. Like how funny you are. And spontaneous. And messy.”
“So many backhanded compliments coming at me right now,” I say. “Not sure what to do with this wealth of riches.”
“You know what I mean, Mags!” Vivian throws her grass knot at me, and it bounces off my cheek. “It’s not like I have any desire
to be with Carter now. It was just feeling envious that, you know, these qualities that you have might . . . make you . . .
more lovable than me. In general.”
It’s the most vulnerable thing Vivian has said to me in years. Maybe ever. She’s tapping her fingers on her thighs, possibly about to cry, and it breaks my heart.
“Vivvy.” I put an arm around her and cuddle up close. “Are you kidding me? You are the most lovable.”
“No one’s ever crashed a wedding to declare how much I mean to them,” Vivian says, her voice quiet.
“Well, that’s very specific.”
“I’m done with college, and I still have no clue how to do love right.”
“That’s ’cause people are fools,” I say into her ear. “And they’re probably intimidated by you. And in awe of you. Like me.”
“No,” Vivian says, “you make fun of me for dumping people when things start to get serious, and that is literally what I do.
I know it is.”
I’m not sure what to say to this. The only advice I can think of is, Well, maybe try not doing that! Which seems unhelpful.
I realize Haim is playing through the speakers, so I point to the air. We love Haim.
“Yeah,” Vivian says. “Days Are Gone. It’s been on this whole time.”
We listen to “Go Slow” for a minute.
“You know,” I say, “I’m not as spontaneous as you think. I was essentially trying to control my whole relationship with Carter.
It’s why he hates me now.”
“He definitely doesn’t,” Vivian says, lowering her head into my lap.
“No, he does. He thinks I’m untrustworthy. And he’s not totally wrong!”
“So talk to him.”
“I’ve tried. A lot. Texts. Voice memos. Surprise appearances at his home. His position is a very clear: Get out of my life, Maggie.”
“Hmm,” Vivian says.
I run a hand through her hair as “Let Me Go” plays.
“Maybe,” she says, “you need to send him a piece of Billy Beaver art in the mail. Along with an inspiring message. I’m so dam sorry. That should win him over.”
“Great idea,” I say, laughing. “Not creepy in the slightest.”
The vibrations of Vivian’s laughter move through my body. Best feeling in the world.
“I think he’s gonna come around, Mags,” she says.
“I unfortunately don’t.” I twirl my sister’s hair into a bun, like I’ve done hundreds of times before. “But I sure am glad
you did.”