Rowan #3
“Ruben’s stuck in traffic and is going to be late,” Raina announces with a frown.
“Does that mean I get Uncle Ruben’s piece of the pie?” Roana pipes up.
The rule is that if you’re late, then no dessert for you.
“Why do you get it? You got the final piece of chocolate last time,” Reagan argues.
“That’s only because you stole my cookie the time before!”
“Well, if you hadn’t—”
“Food’s ready. Quick, everyone grab a plate!” Troy’s call distracts the twins long enough to halt the impending fight.
They race to grab plates to be the first served. It feels like their sibling rivalry gets worse each year, but it’s better to be bickering about food rather than pulling each other’s hair out over dolls.
“There’s never a moment of peace in this family,” Raina says with a shake of her head, but she can’t hide her affectionate smile as we watch the twins elbow each other as they not-so-patiently wait for their dad to scoop dinner onto their plates.
They get their loaded plates to the table without spilling a thing on my sister’s expensive rugs, much to my surprise.
Raina is serious about her rugs, especially the beautiful, deep-red-and-terracotta rug our parents got her from their trip to Turkey last year.
That one is situated in a prominent spot in the hall that connects the front door to the dining room.
Raina doesn’t understand that rugs on the floor will eventually get dirty.
“Sit next to me, Uncle Rowan!” Reagan stands and waves exaggeratedly as if she’s scared I can’t find her.
The sheer excitement on her face tells me there’s a battle waiting for me at the dinner table.
Knowing my niece, and I know her very well, she hasn’t given up on trying to wrangle every detail of celebrity gossip out of me.
“Better gear up,” Riley says low enough only the two of us can hear.
“You,” I grit through my teeth to her departing back. “You did this.”
She replies with a maniacal laugh and claims the seat furthest from Reagan. Smart lady.
I resign to my fate and sit beside my enthusiastic niece, where she proceeds to alternate between taking bites of her food and begging-slash-trying to bribe me into giving deets on my newest client.
It’s a game she likes to play, despite it being all one-sided. Despite knowing I legally can’t tell her anything, she tries to guess which famous person I’m working for. Hopefully, this guessing game of hers won’t last all night like it usually does.
Now knowing what a huge Milo Tobitt fan she is, there’s no way I’m letting it slip who I’m picking up from the airport tomorrow.
Reagan shoots off a list of names that I only half-recognize.
She doesn’t even wait for me to respond and happily continues her guessing game, still wrapped up in her own little world.
Even between bites, there’s hardly a second for me to interject.
I give my eldest sister, who’s sitting beside me at the head of the table, pleading eyes in hopes that she’ll save me, but she’s focused on Roana’s excitement at being promoted to second-chair violinist in her school’s orchestra. Which means I’m on my own.
Reagan is still having a full-on conversation with herself, and I’m trying to develop a plan to segue the topic to something safer, like boys. My love life is dead, but Reagan’s is full enough to carry the conversation all night.
I’m about to ask her about the boy she was seeing last month when the sound of whooshing wind follows the opening of a door.
“I’m here! And don’t worry, I brought my own dessert!”
The last of my siblings makes a very loud entrance and stomps his way to us. I turn around in my seat and see him appear a second later with a cake box and a shit-eating grin on his face, like he’s outsmarted our eldest sister’s no-dessert-for-latecomers rule.
He’s smug, a little too smug, which is probably why the world had to knock him down a peg. He takes a step forward and literally trips over his feet.
I’m standing even though I’m too far to be of any help. It’s instinct, and probably my gut, telling me I need to get as far away from Raina as possible, because everything. Is. Not. Fine.
Ruben’s fine.
He catches himself before he can damage his pretty face that he’s so proud of. But the cake box slips from his hand, and the very colorful cake makes a dramatic splat right in the middle of my sister’s Turkish rug.
Blue and green frosting turns the once-elegant rug into a Christmas special.
If expressions could kill, then Ruben would have died and been resurrected just for my sister to go bloody murder on him all over again.
The others are giggling and laughing, but they’re not in between Raina and the soon-to-be dead man, like I am. I quickly rectify that and get the hell out of the way of my sister’s wrath. Then, I’m laughing along with the others as we watch Raina chase Ruben around with a slipper in hand.
There really isn’t a single moment of peace in the Rangecroft clan.
It’s loud, chaotic, and they sometimes make me want to pull my hair out. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.