Riptides (Lengths) (5 page)

What sucks is that I love this soup. The green chili salsa gives it a kick, and Mom’s cornbread bread bowls are pretty damn amazing. But our father is about to leave everyone with a bad taste in their mouths in three, two…

“Excuse me?” Cohen’s voice is slow and furious. He puts his hands flat on the table. “
Maren
is my blood, Papi. She’s my family.”

“She’s
our
family,” our father objects, tossing his spoon down like a toddler. “I just don’t see the need for a woman who’s doing well and about to be married to a capable man breaking away from her home and family.” He gestures around the table. “We’re here for you both. Maren has all she could ask for
right here
. Why does she feel like she needs to go to this school now too?”

Oh, my poor, old-fashioned, chauvinistic father is so about to get his comeuppance from his wild daughters. I really wish I was drinking something stronger so I could soak this all in appropriately.

“What was that, Papi?” Cece is totally still except for her wild curls, which always seem to be springing around.

“Not for unmarried girls like you!” Dad tries to amend. I pray for someone to please, please take this man’s shovel away. He’s digging so deep and so damn fast, and I know from experience it will only get worse. “You go to college, get the degrees,
wonderful
!” The heavy way he says the words lets us all know he’s equating “degrees” with “new-fangled time-wasting” and “wonderful” with “I can barely stand to think of the time you’re wasting on doing this insane schoolwork instead of making me grandchildren with some nice Jewish man you decided to marry.” “Or Lydia, being a lawyer. That’s a good, solid career, giving back to the community until she settles down. But for girls like Maren and Genie——”

“What about girls like me?” Gen demands, half-standing so fast, her bread bowl tilts far to one side and delicious waves of soup splash into the ceramic bowl underneath it.

Adam clears his throat. “Mr. Rodriguez, Gen was just selected for the Rosalind Franklin Biology Grant. You have to be in the top five percent of all biology applicants just to make the semi-finals. She’s an extraordinary mind and will be an extremely influential force in the scientific community.”

I let out a long, low whistle.

Lydia drops her spoon and Cece jumps out of her chair to grab Genevieve around the shoulders, hugging her so hard and tight, she lifts the chair legs off the floor. “Genie! Congratulations. What amazing news!” she cries. “You never said a word!”

Gen blushes and gives Adam a sidelong glance that’s half adoring, half irritated. “Thank you. I just found out. I didn’t mention it because I’m not sure I’m accepting it.”

“What?” Cece lets go of Gen’s shoulders so abruptly, the chair wobbles back and forth.

Adam catches one side with his hand and steadies it, his proud look getting clouded with exasperation. “Cece, Lydia, please talk sense to her. This is an incredible honor, an incredible opportunity——”

“It would mean a year studying in Belgium in an affiliate program.”

“Belgium is glorious. You have to visit Mechelen. They have this bell ringing school there, and you can just order a glass of wine, listen to the bells…it’s heaven. Complete heaven.” Lydia tilts her head back and sighs.

Cohen and I trade eye rolls and snort.

“What?” Lydia demands, snapping her gaze from me to him. “Just because you two bums think downing a couple of beers and catching waves is the height of cultural experience doesn’t mean we all agree.”

Before either of us can answer, Mom breaks in. “Why not do this, Genie? You and Adam will have an adventure.”

We all look over at the two of them. Gen stares ahead, twisting her napkin tight in her fingers, and Adam focuses on his soup like he’s trying to molecularly dissect it with his eyes.

After a few long seconds of silence, Adam clears his throat. “I, uh, may be up for a position here. I can’t leave. Gen would have to go alone.”

“I won’t.” She turns her head to the side, all her long, dark hair swishing around her arms. “I can’t leave you for an entire year.”

Her voice is a hiss, but we can all hear it clearly. Adam shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. We can do this. It won’t be easy, but we can
do this
, Genevieve. I believe in you.” His voice is low, and I feel like I shouldn’t be listening to this. This is private business. This is——

“This is what happens when you take marriage vows,” my father declares, holding his hands up like he’s finally got this prime example of what he’s been trying to explain all along. “A man and his wife…they stay together. They get married, and they stay together! They make a life
together.
”

If this wasn’t all so tragic, I’d have a moment of hysterical laughter over this. My sister——long the sibling most likely to drive my father crazy——is now being supported by dear old dad, but she’s so used to disagreeing with him, I can tell from the way her lips are twitching that she wants to argue the point.

Cece beats her to it. “Sweetie, you have all the support in the world. It’s just one year. One. You two will be married for decades. Take this chance and go. Adam would never…” She presses her lips tight like she can’t even finish that thought.

“I know that,” Gen bites out, fisting her hands in her hair. “Damnit, I
know that
!” She stands up and backs away from the table. Adam swivels around to look at her, and she’s talking just to him. “I’ll miss you. Every day. To the point where I can’t think about anything else but how badly I miss you. I know it’s not like that for you, but we’re not the same, Adam. I’m not ashamed that you’re the most important thing in my life. Maybe someday I can do this, be away from you like this. But not now. Not now!”

She stomps up the stairs to her old room and we all sit tense even after the door slams shut.

“Excuse me,” Adam mumbles, nodding tightly at my parents before he beelines it to Gen’s room.

In the deafening silence they leave behind, my brother goes back to the dead horse we were all beating before Gen’s nervous breakdown and proceeds to give it a few more whacks.
“Dad, Maren needs this. I need this. It’s going to be fine for the business.” Cohen takes his spoon and wields it like he wishes it was a knife——or at least a fork.

“Fine for the business,” Dad repeats under his breath. “Like any one of you
has any idea how perilous it is to keep any business going.”

We collectively choose to ignore the tension buzzing around us and are in the middle of slurping lukewarm, but still delicious, soup when Maren waltzes in, dragging Whit behind her.

“Maren!” we all chorus, making her jump back and smile uncertainly, those huge baby blues taking us all in with that mix of love and trepidation most people outside the family seem to regard us with.

I love Maren, and I think this family is good for her. She’s going to need a strong backbone to be around a bunch of pushy assholes like us. Especially when she and Cohen start popping out kids.

“Um, hi!” She gives a shy wave and rushes to kiss Cohen softly. There’s this second, this quiet connection that’s like an electrical current between them, and it drowns us all out. Cohen and Maren are locked so deeply into each other, no one else exists. Damn, I’m jealous as fuck of that. “I’m so sorry I kept you all waiting. Whit and I were having the hardest time getting the people who dye the shoes to match my grandmother’s black opals.”

Mami lets out a
tsk
just barely under her breath.

Cohen, already keyed up from all the craziness of this whole weird lunch, jumps all over that passive aggressive tongue click. “What is it, Mom? What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing!” our mother exclaims, shaking her hands. She gestures for Whit to sit.

Whit shakes her head and tries to edge out of the crazy family drama she’s become accustomed to recognizing. She and Deo manage to show up for Rodriguez get-togethers more than I do, so she can smell Rodriguez trouble from a mile away.

But Mom ladles her a bread bowl of soup and offers it with an outstretched hand, upping the ante. Now Whit won’t just be leaving. She’ll be
turning down food
. Knowing what a cardinal sin that is in this funhouse, Whit takes her bowl and sits obediently.

My mother continues, “It’s just that opals are such bad luck.”

Maren blanches and folds her hands tight in her lap. Cohen pulls Maren closer. Whit seems to be considering chipping a tunnel under the table with her stiletto heel. I give her a look that lets her know I’ll be second in line if she gets an escape hatch going.

“What the hell, Mom,” Cohen hisses, draping a protective arm over Maren’s shoulders.

“
Cállate la boca!
” Dad barks, pissed that the golden son swore when he was talking to Mom.

“It’s nothing.” Mom waves her ladle at Maren, who seems to fold into herself like the saddest origami ever. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,
corazon
. It’s old wives tales, I’m sure. It was silly to bring it up.”

“It’s just…my grandmother left the opals to me,” Maren says, her voice like a church mouse’s. “My mother got the emeralds. My sister got the garnets.”

“Garnets!” our mother exclaims, holding her hands out like Maren finally gave the right answer. I grimace at how she’s oblivious to her new official role as ‘crazy, overbearing mother-in-law.’ “Those are nothing but gorgeous! Maybe there’s time to get those?”

Whit clears her throat. “The opals are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I swear, they’re like otherworldly. Like they should be
elven jewelry. Or something.” She looks at my parents, gaping at her like she’s speaking another language——technically, she’s speaking Geek pretty fluently, but whatever.

Cohen grins like he wants to high five her or something equally lame and appreciative. “I’m sure they’re gorgeous. And nothing could possibly bring us bad luck on our wedding day. Could it?” He casts accusatory glances at Mom and Dad.

Mom takes a giant spoonful of soup and murmurs what could be construed as “no, nothing.”

Dad lets out a long, dissatisfied
harrumph.

Maren offers a hopeful, “The soup is amazing!” which we can all tell is a desperate attempt to change the damn subject.

No one brings up the furniture store or the importance of a woman’s education or old wives’ tale for the rest of the terse, strangled meal. The instant Maren sips at her last spoonful, Cohen is on his feet.

“Well, we better get out of here. Maren and I have so much to do if we’re going to be ready for the big move after the wedding. C’mon, doll. I need to get you home. Now.”

It’s almost uncomfortable watching the primal need radiate off Cohen when he looks at Maren in her tiny little dress that’s flowery and sweet, but short, tight, and so damn sexy all at the same time. There’s this way he puts his hands on her hips and leans close, like he’s a wolf catching the scent of his prey. Maren blushes and bites back a smile——the kind of smile Jess had on her face when she got to my place last night ready for some action. I’m surprised to see it flickering off my brother and Maren, so damn hot, it practically crackles the paint off the walls.

Maybe what they say about those button-down types is all true. Maybe my boring, responsible brother really does rock his wife’s-to-be world.

Maybe.

Whit is next to stand, and I take my cue from her. “This was amazing. Thank you. Deo will be so jealous I got to have lunch here. I think he told me Marigold was bringing some of her zucchini rolls to the shop.”

There’s a general shudder that my mother only allows because she knows we all love Marigold so much. But all the love in the world can’t change the fact that she’s the most heinous cook who ever entered a kitchen, and she refuses to back down and stop making things for all of us to eat.

Her husband Rocko gets all the benefits of a sexy as hell, whip smart, sweet, funny woman in his bed and life. But I do
not
envy that man his meals. Not at all.

Maybe I could get Jess to give her lessons
someday.

“Let me make him a container!” Mom hops up and goes to the kitchen. When she comes back, I take the container, kiss her cheek, wave to my family, and walk Whit out to her car.

“Holy tenseness in there!” She slumps against her door, pulls a little gold tube out of her purse, and puts on a fresh coat of bright red lipstick. “I don’t know if my nerves can handle this wedding crap. I love your mother so much, but she’s making this whole process deranged. I guess I lucked out having Marigold as my mother-in-law. No offense.”

I lean next to her. “None taken. Just be glad you missed my father’s Old World ‘women belong barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen’ speech. Which was
after
he tried to guilt Cohen into staying part time with the furniture store and
before
Gen and Adam got into a huge door-slamming fight.”

“No he didn’t!” Whit snaps the lid on her lipstick and opens her eyes wide. “How can he still get away with that? Your sisters are, like, the strongest, most independent women ever.”