Chapter Fourteen
Brothers are stupid.
Ruby
This is decidedly not fun.
“I asked you to pass the sour cream, not throw it!” Elodie screeches.
“You got it, didn’t you?” Roman retorts.
“Guys!” I try to intervene. This is going nowhere good, and fast.
“Yeah, and so did my shirt! There’s sour cream all over me!”
Oh, gross.
“I’m sure Ruby has something you can borrow, princess. You’ll make it through these trying times.”
I open my mouth to tell him that no, I don’t have something she can borrow. She’s a gazelle. I’m barely 5’4”. My shirts would be crop tops on her – in the middle of winter. I think not.
“Ruby’s half a foot shorter than me, you giant oaf. Her clothes don’t fit me!” Elodie hisses before I’m able to relay the same information, but nicer.
Ugh.
“Guys!” I try again.
“Guess you’ll be wearing sour cream home then,” Roman taunts, rude for no reason.
“I’m no-”
Okay, that’s enough.
“ Guys!”
The table falls quiet as I stand, chair scraping loudly on the hardwood.
“Can you two, for one single night, just get over your issues? I want one night where I can be with my two favorite people in the whole world and just… enjoy it. Can you do that? For me? One night of peace?”
Silence, then, “Three favorite people,” Will coughs.
My eye twitches.
Children. All of them are children.
I close my eyes, rubbing at the headache gathering in my temples with my fingers.
“Will?” I ask.
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
He snorts a laugh that he tries, unsuccessfully, to pass off as a cough, but, blessedly, doesn't say anything more.
Roman and Elodie remain silent.
“Hello?” I ask their shadows, exasperated.
“They’re pouting,” Will tells me.
I sigh.
“Roman, go get Elodie one of your shirts. I’ll pack up our food and finish it at El’s.”
Several protests meet this plan.
“You can’t leave!” Will.
“I’m not wearing his shirt!” Elodie.
“The enchiladas will be cold if you wait that long to eat them!” Roman.
“Stop!” I yell over them, cutting my hand through the air. “Roman, if you want us to eat them warm, then stop being a jerk to my friend. El, you’re wearing Rome’s shirt. You’d freeze to death if you tried to wear one of mine, and Will only has dress shirts here – thin dress shirts. Will, mind your business.”
I’m breathing hard when I finish, and my headache is getting worse. I should’ve known this would happen when I invited Elodie over. They argue like little kids every time they’re within twenty feet of each other, unless my parents happen to be around. Nobody misbehaves around Rhonda and Roger Vann. Their disappointment alone would eat you alive.
After several tense moments, Roman grits out a “fine,” and his chair clatters as he gets up to stomp his way upstairs to his room.
Elodie grunts, then says, “I’ll be good so long as he’s being good.”
I sigh.
“He’ll be good,” Will assures us. “He’d rather die than have someone eat his food cold. He’ll be an angel.”
That is… so true.
I sit back down.
Silverware clatters next to me as Will continues eating, and I follow suit. Elodie is distinctly quiet.
“She’s pouting still,” Will whispers at me.
“I’ll eat when I don’t have sour cream on my shirt,” Elodie sniffs.
“Here,” Roman grunts as he rejoins us.
Elodie mumbles a reluctant thanks, then goes to the bathroom to change. I turn my irritation on Roman while she’s gone.
“Do you have to be such a jerk?” I ask.
“She literally said ‘ew’ when she saw me!” he defends himself. Poorly.
“Well, yeah.” Duh. “You’re a boy.”
“First of all,” he grumbles, “I’m a man.”
My eyes roll, and even Will scoffs.
“Second of all!” Roman says louder. “I doubt she greeted Will that way. She just hates me.”
“Have you considered that maybe she hates you because you act like a sanctimonious donkey around her?”
“I’m not sanctimonious!” he protests.
“Roman, last month you lectured her for twenty minutes because she mentioned switching to oatmilk, then you offered her money so that she ‘could afford real milk.’”
“She said she was going to make alfredo with the stuff!”
“Two months ago, you ordered her to stop biking to the gym and went so far as to buy her a month’s worth of car service, even though she told you she loves her biking commute and the added cardio it gives her. She used that stupid service because she didn’t want you to waste money, and she hated it the entire time. She wanted to start her days with fresh air and exercise and you belittled that and forced her into a stuffy car every day.”
“Like I told her,” he grits. “Biking isn’t safe, especially when you’re riding with your headphones on at full blast. I’ve seen the crime rates in this city. She was a cold case waiting to happen.”
“It’s not about the bike!” I groan. “Or the milk! It’s about you belittling all of her choices, insisting that you know best, and pushing what you think she should do onto her. She gets enough of that sort of nonsense from her parents. She doesn’t need it from a meddling older brother she didn’t ask for.”
“I’m not her brother,” he responds, revolted.
“You’re missing the point,” I snap, and Will’s hand lands on my leg under the table, giving me a bolstering squeeze.
“If she’s doing something wrong and I can help her, I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” Roman snaps back.
“Is she doing something wrong or is she just doing something differently than how you would?”
The grinding of his teeth grates in my ears.
I soften my voice. “Rome, I love you. You know I love you. But your way is not always the best way, and good intentions only go so far. You stifle her. Give her some space to be who she is, and she won’t say ‘ew’ the moment she sees you. You might even end up friends.”
“Wow!” Will exclaims, interrupting any response Roman might have had. “You’re swimming in that shirt!”
Ah. Elodie’s back.
I wonder how long she spent eavesdropping.
Roman clears his throat in the quiet as Elodie reclaims her seat. Then he clears it again.
Coughs.
Audibly gulps.
My brows rise. “You okay?”
“Yes!” he squeaks, and my jaw drops.
Roman is squeaking ?
Will snorts a laugh.
“What am I missing?” I hiss at him.
“It’s a man thing,” he replies.
My brows draw together. “A man thing?” I ask, skeptical.
“Definitely a man thing,” he confirms.
I frown.
“Eat your food,” Roman orders, his voice… weird. The squeak is gone, but it’s been replaced by something else just as foreign.
I’m not sure I want to know whatever “man thing” is causing this.
In fact, I’m positive I do not want to know. I’d like my dinner to stay in my stomach, thank you.
“Stop being bossy,” I bark. “We just talked about this!”
He grunts. “It’s getting cold.”
“One thing at a time,” Will murmurs as I scowl at my brother. “He’ll get there.”
My nose wrinkles. He’s right. I know he’s right. You can’t force character growth. And yet…
“Say please,” I tell Roman.
“Excuse me?” he asks, tone empty of its barf-inducing weirdness.
“If you want us to eat, then say please,” I repeat.
“Ruby, I swear-”
“That’s not ‘please.’”
He growls.
“That’s not ‘please’ either,” I inform him.
“You little-”
“Ah, ah, ah! Not ‘please!’”
“Fine! Please!” he cries. “Eat it before it’s cold and gross!”
I hum.
“What do you think, El? Good enough?”
She cackles, and my lip twitches.
Then, I dig in, satisfied that my dear brother is well on his way to learning his lesson.