Chapter 46: Chapter 43 - Of course I remembered

D A I S Y

After hours on the road, finally, our lake house showed up in the distance. The brown log cabin I had spent my summers in, playing board games on the living room carpet after lunch, waiting for the heat of the day to fade away so we could go outside.

Outside, on the first step of the back porch, where I had hit my head running for the water. On the swing dad had built on the biggest tree, where Jason had been attacked by bees, not once, but twice in the same summer. On the dock, where Zoey and I read for hours under the sun. In the water, where dad had taught us how to swim, or where Jason had almost drowned me, not once, not twice, but at least three times, every summer.

"We're taking the room with the lakeview," I said as soon as I could.

Jason laughed, "So the room with the five generations of mosquitos in it."

"Zoey's really good at killing mosquitos, like, scary good."

She had just woken up, so she said, "I am."

Jason opened the door and proceeded to struggle to get out with his crutches, "I'm not going to help you this time."

"You didn't help us last time either," I said, following Zoey out of the car.

Luke was by the trunk already, helping dad with the bags, and saying something about the house. Zoey stretched in front of me.

"You need to start saying no to Richard, just because he's hot –"

"Who the fuck is Richard?"

"Jason! God damnit!" dad said. He was trying to pretend to Luke that we were Christians even though we weren't even churchgoers. He had tried it with Zoey too when she first came with us years ago, and he had failed just hours in, so I had no idea why he even bothered. He had also just said God damnit, which wasn't very Christian, was it? I had no idea. Again, we weren't even churchgoers.

Jason shrugged. Zoey said, "He's the dad of the kid I babysit."

"And you think he's hot?" Jason asked. "How old is he?"

"I didn't say he was hot. Daisy did."

"And I stand by it," I said. I had looked him on social media, and I would do it again, if I wanted, which I probably would.

"I'm gonna tell dad –"

"I don't wanna hear it," dad stopped him right away, proceeding to throw our bags at us, except for Jason's, of course, who had no hands to catch it with, courtesy of his crutches. Behind dad, Luke stood with his backpack on his shoulders, his dad's Harvard jumper on, and a pair of nice jeans. Dad opened his mouth again, "I'm gonna go start dinner, and then I'm going for drinks with Uncle Pete, so you can have the house all to yourselves. Obviously, there are some rules. No going in the lake at night. No drinking. No going in the attic."

"Dad used to tell us there was a ghost of a Victorian child in the attic," I said.

Luke smiled, "Really?"

Dad shrugged, "It was a good way to keep them off the attic when they were kids. There's a lot of loose nails there and rotten wood. Jason had believed it well into his –"

"I never believed it," Jason said immediately.

"Whatever you say, big guy," dad said. Luke laughed. Jason sent him a look. He stopped.

As promised, dad went to start dinner, which shouldn't take long, seeing as mom had packed us a casserole that would just take minutes to heat up in the oven. Luke and I set the table. Jason pretended to help Zoey light up the fireplace. When we sat down to eat, I remembered.

"I have something to tell you," I started. I had told mom already. She had been very happy for me, although not as happy as she usually got when Jason told her anything ever. Dad stood up to start serving us, occasionally looking over at me, waiting for me to spit it out. I did. "I'm doing a solo at the Sectionals! It's only a month from tomorrow, but we're already practicing, and they chose me –"

"You gotta be kidding me," Jason stopped me.

"What?"

"Don't listen to him," dad said, a big, big smile on his face. "That's amazing! Congratulations!"

"You're a superstar!" Zoey added, grabbing my face to smash a kiss on my cheek. I smiled. Across from her, Luke was smiling too.

"Congrats," he said.

"Yeah, congrats, whatever, we can't go though." This was Jason. I wanted to grab a handful of steaming hot food and throw it at his face.

"Why not?" dad asked, sitting back down after serving himself last.

"That's the week of your birthday," Jason said, like it was obvious, although only to him. Then he said, "I got us tickets for the playoffs –"

"No, you didn't," dad stopped him, eyes big, smile bigger.

"I did," he said. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but I guess Daisy ruins everything –"

"How did I –"

"She didn't ruin anything," dad stopped me. "We're obviously going to the game –"

"Wow." This was all I could manage.

"Do you know how expensive those tickets are?" This was what Jason could manage.

"Mom can record your solo and we can watch it at home later."

"It's not the same thing," I said. I had a lump in my throat. I turned to Zoey. She was already looking at me. I said, "You'll come, right?"

She smiled, "I already have my ticket."

I swallowed hard, "You do?"

"Of course."

"How? You didn't even know about the Sectionals –"

"Yes, I did," she said. "The other day at school, you ran past me, and said, very fast, that you were in a hurry because there were gonna be auditions for the solo at the Sectionals next month, and you wanted to talk to the pianist first, or something. I didn't get the last part, but I got the tickets."

"You remembered?" I didn't even remember.

"Of course I remembered. I'm in love with you."

"Gay," Jason said. Dad sent him a look. He pretended not to notice. I turned back to Zoey and hugged her so hard, she had to stop me before I dislocated her shoulder.

"Can I go?" Luke asked.

"No." Obviously.

"I'm gonna go," he said all the same.

"No, you're not."

"Anyway," dad said. "I'm really proud of you, Daisy, and I'm sure you're gonna have a lot more solos for us to go to. I loved the one you did at the homecoming game."

"I wish I could say the same." Jason laughed. When dad turned his head at him, he put his hands up. "You don't have to say anything. I apologize immediately. Sorry! Right away!"

I showed him my middle finger when dad wasn't looking. He ignored me. I didn't care. Dad made him help out with the dishes after dinner, not me. But then again, Jason didn't seem to mind at all. The whole time they were in the kitchen, they were talking about football. If there was something Jason loved, was talking about football with dad.

Zoey and I crashed on the couch in the living room and Luke followed. There were only a couple of channels available on tv, and no internet, so no streaming service either. There was, however, Jason's old game console and the game our parents had bought us for Christmas years ago in the hopes of bringing us all closer together. Obviously, it hadn't worked. Instead, it had been the cause of a fight so big, Jason had gotten a black eye out of it, and me, the guilt of having given it to him, which wasn't much at all. He had it coming. Also, we were twelve years old when it happened.

I put the game on and turned to explain the rules to Luke. Zoey knew the rules, even though she almost never followed them, which every summer, annoyed both me and Jason, according to her, because we shared a very violent competitive gene.

"Right," I started, handing him a controller. "This is a cooperative game. Basically we all have to work together to keep a restaurant going."

I went on explaining, every now and then, Luke would say something like, the video game industry always had a way of making low-paying but high-stress jobs seem fun, or like, there's definitely a capitalist agenda here, or like, and they call this non-qualified work, all of which I agreed with, and thought was very hot of him to point out. I kept that last part to myself. I was almost done explaining everything to him when Jason walked in.

"Oh, I fucking love this game!"

Behind him, dad slapped the side of his head, and said, "Language."

Jason jumped on the couch, right next to Luke, and got a controller from the box by the coffee table. Dad put on his jacket and told us he wouldn't be home late before leaving.

"Don't drink too much!" Jason said after the front door opened but before it could close again. Dad didn't answer. Dad never drank too much. Uncle Pete did, but only when the whole family was around. He was Jason's favorite uncle, on the account of being a war veteran who had retired to go live by himself in a cabin in the woods. I liked Uncle Pete too, but mostly because he read a lot, and said I was the coolest girl in the world. That last part was the only thing Jason didn't like about him.

"Luke, I have to warn you," Zoey started. "This game brings out the worst in them."

Luke stared at Jason, who had put his bad leg over the coffee table, his cast covered in bad drawings of male genitalia, according to Jason, all done against his will by the football team. Then he stared at me. I showed him an innocent smile.

We started playing. Zoey was right. The game brought out our worst. After a while, not just the worst in Jason and me, but Luke too. Only Zoey remained at her best, as always, laughing even when Jason threatened to lose his shit on her, even though he had been losing it since we started playing. Eventually, it got so bad, he had to pause the game.

"Alright, everyone, stop!" he said. "Daisy, it kills me to say this, but you're actually doing great. Luke, dude, you're a fucking pleasure to work with. Change nothing. Now, Zoey, tell me, are you fucking up on purpose?"

She laughed, "No, I'm not! This is really hard!"

"What do you mean? You just have to take out the orders! We gave you the easiest job!"

"He has a point," Luke said, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Thank you, Luke."

Zoey turned to me for help.

"You're really shit at this," I said. I couldn't help myself.

She laughed some more, "You all need to calm down. Have you seen the conditions we're working under? The floor is lava!"

"It's a metaphor!" Luke and I said at the same time.

"What they said," Jason said, too late.

Zoey laughed even more, and said, "I'll do better. I promise."

But she didn't do better, and eventually, we all got so frustrated, we just told her to stand in the corner, and do nothing, which she objected to at first, because she was actually enjoying herself somehow, but eventually agreed to do.

She fell asleep minutes after, her controller abandoned on her lap, her head leaned back against the couch. I had to wake her up hours later, when we finally decided it was time for bed, and drag her all the way upstairs. She took off her sweater and her jeans, still half asleep, and put on her an oversized t-shirt of Edward Cullen backwards, and a pair of sweatpants. I did the same, except properly. She fell asleep again as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Not me. I realized soon enough that Jason had been right about the five generations of mosquitos sharing the room with us, and I didn't have it in me to wake up Zoey and have her help me kill them all. So I covered both of us with the blankets and hoped for the best. But the buzzing, the constant buzzing in my ear, wouldn't let me fall asleep. It wouldn't even let me think of it. It was just too much.

I got up and climbed down the stairs to the kitchen. Dad had come home hours ago, when we were all still in the living room, and immediately gone to bed after warning us to keep quiet, which we hadn't done at all, and of which we would definitely hear about in the morning.

I turned the kitchen lights on and almost screamed when I saw Jason by the fridge, a jar of peanut butter in his hand, a spoon full of it in his mouth. Jason actually screamed, a cry so high-pitched, I had to bend down to hold in my laughter.

"Fuck you," he said when he realized it was me. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You scared me," I said in a whisper, walking closer.

"You scared me!" he said, stress-eating some more peanut butter. "I thought you were Anabelle."

I got a spoon from the drawer, "Who's Anabelle?"

He let me take some peanut butter from the jar and then shrugged, "The girl in the attic."

I smiled like an idiot, "You gave her a name?!"

He shook his head, "I'm kidding. Obviously."

"No, you're not. You still believe –"

"I was kidding!" he stopped me, putting the peanut butter behind his back when I went for another spoon. "What are you doing here anyway? I doubt you came for the peanut butter because I didn't even know we had it in the house. I'm pretty sure it's expired."

"Let me see!" I had just had a spoonful of it, and he had probably had more, way more. What was wrong with him?

He smiled, "I'm kidding. Again."

"You're an idiot."

"So I've been told." He shrugged. "Your boyfriend's having a nightmare by the way."

"He is?"

He laughed, "So he is your boyfriend?"

"What? No. I just– Is he actually having a nightmare?" I asked, dropping my spoon in the sink. Jason shrugged again, working through all the peanut butter he had just shoved in his mouth.

Finally, he said, "I was gonna wake him up and then I realized he was crying and just walked right out of there –"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Despite having just barely managed to swallow a spoonful of peanut butter, he shoved another one in his mouth, while shaking his head aggressively. This time, however, he swallowed it easily. "I'm actually being very fucking considerate, Daisy, so shut the fuck up. I could have woken him up and made so much fun of him for crying over a nightmare at the age of seventeen, you have no idea. Instead, I'm gonna pretend I don't know anything about any crying, and you, Daisy, you're gonna do the same, because I think I actually like Luke, or at least I don't hate him, I guess."

"Because he watches cartoons like you?" I asked, unimpressed.

He shrugged, "My standards are very low."

"I'm gonna go in there," I decided.

Jason grabbed my arm, "I don't think you should. He almost punched me when I got close. He's fighting for his life in there."

"I won't get too close. Not this time."

"This time?" he asked. Occasionally, Jason did pay attention to the things I said. Mostly when I didn't want him to. "Oh fuck, is that what happened? How long have you been sleeping together?"

I rolled my eyes, "Since never. Remember the day you kicked me out of the house so you could throw yourself a pity party? Right, shut up, I slept at his – not with him! – and in the middle of the night he was having a nightmare, a really bad one, and I tried to help, and he grabbed me, and you already know the rest."

"It was not a pity party," he said, right before, "Anyway, that kid has got some demons. Who would have thought?"

"Can you let me go now?"

"No," he said. "Why didn't you just tell me all that?"

"Because I thought you were gonna make fun of him."

"Yeah, I probably was," he said, smiling to himself.

"And I didn't know you cared."

He stopped smiling, "Well, fuck you for that."

"Right."

"What? You want me to say I care about you?"

"No." Yes.

"Cool." He smiled again. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"There are too many mosquitos in my room," I said under my breath.

"Too many what?" He heard me. He was just being Jason.

"Mosquitos."

"Say that again." Again, just Jason being Jason.

"No."

Then, "Do you wanna switch rooms?"

I thought about it, "Yes."