Double update!

SUMMER SEVENTEEN XV

“WERE YOU ON the tennis court?” Mummy asks me. “I heard balls.”

                “Just messin’ around.”

                “You haven’t played in so long. That’s wonderful.”

                “My serve is off.”

                “I’m so happy you’re taking it up again. If you wanna volley with me tomorrow, say the word.”

                She is delusional. I am not taking tennis again just because I played one single afternoon, and in no capacity do I ever want to volley with Mummy. She will wear a tennis skirt and praise me and caution me and hover over me until I’m unkind to her.

                “We’ll see. I probably strained my shoulder.”

                Supper is outside in the Japanese garden. We watch the eight o’clock sunset, in groups around the small table. Soo and Hyo grab pork chops off the platter and eat them with their hands.

                “You two are animalS,” says Yoon, wrinkling her nose.

                “And your point is?” says Soo.

                “There’s a thing called a fork.”

                “There’s a thing called your face,” Soo refutes.

                Minho, Taeyeon and Tiffany get to eat at Cuddledown because they aren’t invalids. And their mothers aren’t controlling. Mummy doesn’t even let me sit with the adults. She makes me sit at a separate table with my younger cousins.

                They are nuisance. I stop listening to them, and look at Mummy, Aunt Carrie and Aunt Bess, clustered around Grandad.

THERE’S A NIGHT I remember now. It must have been about 2 weeks before my accident. Early July. We were all sitting at the long table on the Clairmont lawn. Cintronella candles burned on the porch. The littles had finished their hamburgers and were doing cartwheels on the grass. The rest of us were eating grilled swordfish with basil sauce. There was a salad of yellow tomatoes and a casserole of zucchini with a crust of Parmesan cheese. Taeyeon pressed her leg against mine under the table. I felt light-headed with happiness.

                The aunts toyed with their food, silent and formal with one another beneath the littles’ shouts. Grandad leaned back, folding his hands over his abdomen. “You think I should renovate the Boston house?” he asked.

                A silence followed.

                “No, Dad,” Bess was the first to speak. “We love that house.”

                “You always complain about the drafts in the living room,” said Grandad.

                Bess looked around at her sisters. “I don’t.”

                “You don’t like the décor,” Grandad said again.

                “That’s true.” Mummy’s voice was critical.

                “I think it’s timeless,” said Carrie.

                “I could use your advice, you know?” Grandad said to Bess. “Would you come over and look at it carefully? Tell me what you think?”

                “I…”

                He leaned in. “I could sell it, too, you know.”

                We all knew Aunt Bess wanted the Boston house. All of them want the Boston house. It was a four-million-dollar house, and they grew up in it. But Bess was the only one who lived nearby, and the only one with enough kids to fill all the bedrooms.

                “Dad,” Carrie said sharply. “You can’t sell it.”

                “I can do what I want,” said Grandad, spearing the last tomato on his plate and popping it in his mouth. “You like the house as it is, then, Bess? Or do you want to see it remodeled? No one likes a waffler.”

                “I’d love to help with whatever you wanna change, Dad.”

                “Oh, please,” snapped Mummy. “Only yesterday you were saying how busy you are and now you’re helping remodel the Boston house?”

                “He asked for our help,” said Bess.

                “He asked for your help, Bess. You cutting us out, Dad?” Mummy was drunk.

                Grandad laughed. “Sara, relax.”

                “I’ll relax when the estate is settled.”

                “You’re making us crazy,” Carrie muttered.

                “What was that? Don’t mumble.”

                “We all love you, Dad,” said Carrie, loudly. “I know it’s been a hard year.”

                “If you’re going crazy it’s your own damn choice. Pull yourself together. I can’t leave the estate to crazy people.”

LOOK AT THE aunties now, summer seventeen. Here in the Japanese garden of New Clairmont, Mummy has her arm around Bess, who reaches out to slice Carrie a piece of raspberry tart.

                It’s a beautiful night, and we are indeed a beautiful family.

                I do not know what changed.

A/N: Do be extra aware of the past stories and the present. You'd be very confused if you can't distinguish them :D Enjoy!