about transportation and hotels? You aren’t even old enough to rent a car.” I’m building a case for Raquel Rose’s unobtrusive style of chaperoning. I am already picturing it: me on the beach, a delicious new Anne Rivers Siddons or Marian Keyes in hand, sarong tucked strategically around all offending parts while my long, naturally tan legs scissor out into the silken sand, Corona standing sentry beside me, fresh lime wedge bobbing in time to the soft kick of waves at my feet.
Oh yes.
“Are you sure you’re, you know, feeling well enough to go?” I can see that Tay has (correctly) deduced that my attendance at the Mexico surf-camp extravaganza represents her only chance of going and decided to roll with it.
“I think so,” I answer, somewhat truthfully.
“Sweet! I’m going to call Lindsay!” Taylor says, already halfway out of her chair.
“After dinner,” Phil says. Tay falls back like a lanky deer and resumes picking at her baked potato.
“Actually, I’m glad we’re all together, because there’s something I have to tell you,” I say. This is it. The time is right. I’m going to tell them. So what if it means the end of Phil defending me against the succubae and the cancer people issue a fatwa on my ass.
The phone rings.
“Let it go,” I say.
Micah jumps up. “Can’t, Mom. It could be Ronnie. My cell’s dead.” My son leans over and grabs the phone, listens for a moment, then hands it to me.
“It’s Aunt Laurie.”
“Laur, can I call you back?” I say.
“Quel?”
“We’re in the middle of dinner.”
“Well, I hope you’re eating broccoli. It’s the most powerful anticancer food around.”
“What’s up?” I say. Of course we’re eating broccoli. I mean, I’m sure it’s in there somewhere. See? There’s a sprig of it right there, sticking out of my potato, under a nice warm blanket of melted cheddar.
“I made an appointment for you to see Dr. Minh tomorrow afternoon in San Francisco. Minh’s a disciple of Xia’s, very knowledgeable, very respected, an amazing healer. I’ll e-mail you the address, okay?”
Disciple? What is this, modern medicine or the Moonies?
“Oh, Laur, really, I don’t think it’s necessary.” Little does my sister know how unnecessary it is. I’ll call her after dinner to explain, after I tell Phil and the kids.
“Quel, people wait months to see Minh,” Laurie says.
I rack my brain for a legitimate out. “I have to go to Costco. We need toilet paper.”
“I don’t think you understand. The only reason I was able to get you in is because I dropped Xia’s name.” Laurie’s normally calm voice turns shrill. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to be sick. You’re being so . . . defeatist about it all.”
“That’s ridiculous! I can’t believe you said that!” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Phil shake his head, get up, and start clearing the table. The kids bring their plates to the sink and dematerialize, beaming back into their social whirl like passengers on the starship
Enterprise.
Shit.
“Ma was right,” Laurie says.
My ever primed competitive-sister demon bares her fangs. “What?”
“Oh, never mind.”
“No, you can’t just say that, Laur! What did Ma say?”
“Forget it. I’m sorry I pressured you. I was just trying to help. You’re a stubborn ass sometimes, you know that?”
You don’t know the half of it, Mrs. White.
“What did Ma say?” I say forcefully.
“Well, she said she hoped you’d, you know, use this as an opportunity . . . oh, I can’t remember what she said. It was nothing, just one of those stupid things people say. Frankly, I think it was a little insensitive. I’m sorry I mentioned it. You know how Ma gets when she’s upset. She says things she doesn’t mean. We all do.”
“What. Did. She. Say,” I growl.
“She said she hopes you don’t quit fighting the cancer like you quit everything else,” Laurie says softly. I have to turn off the
Oh yes.
“Are you sure you’re, you know, feeling well enough to go?” I can see that Tay has (correctly) deduced that my attendance at the Mexico surf-camp extravaganza represents her only chance of going and decided to roll with it.
“I think so,” I answer, somewhat truthfully.
“Sweet! I’m going to call Lindsay!” Taylor says, already halfway out of her chair.
“After dinner,” Phil says. Tay falls back like a lanky deer and resumes picking at her baked potato.
“Actually, I’m glad we’re all together, because there’s something I have to tell you,” I say. This is it. The time is right. I’m going to tell them. So what if it means the end of Phil defending me against the succubae and the cancer people issue a fatwa on my ass.
The phone rings.
“Let it go,” I say.
Micah jumps up. “Can’t, Mom. It could be Ronnie. My cell’s dead.” My son leans over and grabs the phone, listens for a moment, then hands it to me.
“It’s Aunt Laurie.”
“Laur, can I call you back?” I say.
“Quel?”
“We’re in the middle of dinner.”
“Well, I hope you’re eating broccoli. It’s the most powerful anticancer food around.”
“What’s up?” I say. Of course we’re eating broccoli. I mean, I’m sure it’s in there somewhere. See? There’s a sprig of it right there, sticking out of my potato, under a nice warm blanket of melted cheddar.
“I made an appointment for you to see Dr. Minh tomorrow afternoon in San Francisco. Minh’s a disciple of Xia’s, very knowledgeable, very respected, an amazing healer. I’ll e-mail you the address, okay?”
Disciple? What is this, modern medicine or the Moonies?
“Oh, Laur, really, I don’t think it’s necessary.” Little does my sister know how unnecessary it is. I’ll call her after dinner to explain, after I tell Phil and the kids.
“Quel, people wait months to see Minh,” Laurie says.
I rack my brain for a legitimate out. “I have to go to Costco. We need toilet paper.”
“I don’t think you understand. The only reason I was able to get you in is because I dropped Xia’s name.” Laurie’s normally calm voice turns shrill. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to be sick. You’re being so . . . defeatist about it all.”
“That’s ridiculous! I can’t believe you said that!” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Phil shake his head, get up, and start clearing the table. The kids bring their plates to the sink and dematerialize, beaming back into their social whirl like passengers on the starship
Enterprise.
Shit.
“Ma was right,” Laurie says.
My ever primed competitive-sister demon bares her fangs. “What?”
“Oh, never mind.”
“No, you can’t just say that, Laur! What did Ma say?”
“Forget it. I’m sorry I pressured you. I was just trying to help. You’re a stubborn ass sometimes, you know that?”
You don’t know the half of it, Mrs. White.
“What did Ma say?” I say forcefully.
“Well, she said she hoped you’d, you know, use this as an opportunity . . . oh, I can’t remember what she said. It was nothing, just one of those stupid things people say. Frankly, I think it was a little insensitive. I’m sorry I mentioned it. You know how Ma gets when she’s upset. She says things she doesn’t mean. We all do.”
“What. Did. She. Say,” I growl.
“She said she hopes you don’t quit fighting the cancer like you quit everything else,” Laurie says softly. I have to turn off the
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