1. Welcome to Jangles
"I didn't think that you were actually serious!" I shouted out the front door. "Who honeymoons when they're in their forties?"
Mom sent me the look that never failed to get an eye roll out of me. It was the "don't embarrass me in front of the neighbors" glare. I couldn't help it. My inside voice was naturally loud. She crammed her last carry-on bag into the trunk of Phil's lame car. I didn't know anything about cars models or cars in general, but just the look of it screamed old-fashioned and dorky. But apparently Mom didn't care about that sort of stuff; otherwise she wouldn't have married him.
"First off, I'm only thirty-eight, thank you," she retorted, shutting the trunk door. "And Phil and I are still newlyweds, and newlyweds go on honeymoons. And before you ask, you cannot go."
My jaw dropped in repulsion at even the thought of vacationing with Phil, even if it was a cruise around the Caribbean. "Gross, Mom!" I wasn't even going to suggest that." I shivered and shook my head. "No amount of money could get me to accompany you on your husband." I dropped my volume to a whisper and hissed, "Do you even know what they do on a honeymoon?"
Her mouth formed an 'o', as did her eyes. She slapped my arm playfully. "Of course I do! How do you think you and Dakota—"
I plugged my fingers into my ears and began screaming 'lalalala' like the child I was. She crossed her arms, tapped her foot, and waited me to finish my mini "tantrum," as she so nicely put whenever I did that. "I refuse to talk to you about this," I told her.
She shrugged. "You brought it up. Not me."
"And I have to stay with Dakota?"
"You'll have a grand old time." She clapped her hands giddily. "You can bond with him, or whatever you kids call it now."
"He doesn't want to hang out with me as much as I don't want to hang out with him."
"Ah, hang out. That's what it's called."
"Mom! Are you even listening to me?"
"Of course, honey. It's what I'm here for. I'm here to cater to your every need and desire."
Now she was mocking me. "He doesn't want to be responsible for his annoying younger sister."
"It'll be good practice for him for when he gets a child."
"He doesn't even have a girlfriend. Besides, I didn't know you wanted to be a grandma."
"Not from you, I don't. So don't be getting any ideas, missy."
I threw my hands up in defense. "I wasn't!"
She beamed, satisfied. "Good. He'll be here shortly, probably in an hour or so. I wish I could stay longer, but we have to catch a flight. In the meantime, can I trust you to not wreck the house until he gets here?"
"I'm not going to throw a house party if that's what you're insinuating."
"I didn't say anything about a party."
I gave her a look of skepticism. "Have fun, Mom."
She ran her fingers through her light chocolate brown hair, newly trimmed, and sighed dreamily. "I will. There's nothing like being on a boat in the middle of the ocean with my hubby!"
"Did someone say 'hubby?"' Phil sang, coming out of the door holding several brochures, their passports, and the plane tickets."
"I did!" Mom giggled, pecking Phil's cheek. A sudden look of panic crossed her face. "I forgot my ring on the dresser!"
"How did you manage that?" I asked. "You never take it off."
"I took it off to clean it. I wanted it to be shiny for the trip. I'll be right back."
She scurried into the house in a state of temporary distress. I found it slightly uncomfortable that Phil was just standing there beaming at me. "She's something else, isn't she?" he said dazedly.
I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself. I answered anyways. "Yeah. She is."
"Have fun this summer, squirt."
He went to ruffle my hair, but I averted it. I felt a pang of guilt when I saw that there was a pained look on his face. It only lasted for a couple of seconds though.
"Squirt?" I echoed.
"It's a nickname." I'm aware. "Don't dads call their kids that?"
I wanted to tell him that he wasn't my real dad, and that he never would be, but I figured that would dampen his cheery mood. Besides, I had already offended him once today. Plus I'd have to deal with Mom if she ever found out, which was highly probably because Phil told her everything.
Phil was clueless when it came to children, and more specifically, teenagers. Was it wrong that I was glad that he came around after my childhood? He didn't seem like the type of guy who would play catch in the yard or teach you how to ride a bike. I could see him trying teaching my unborn sibling division when all it wanted to do was watch Courage the Cowardly Dog. While these thoughts both amused and terrified me, I was put to rest. I knew that Phil would try to be the best parent he could be. And it also had my mom, who, in my opinion, had raised a couple of cool kids.
"Sure, Phil."
"Call me Dad."
I forced a smile. "I'm more comfortable with Phil right now." To make it seem a little nicer, I added, "If that's all right with you."
I could see it on his face. It wasn't "all right" with him. He wasn't doing a very good job hiding his disappointment. He looked like a child whose request for a cookie was declined. But as soon as Mom bounced through the doorway with her ring, he lit up again. It was evident that he loved her. Mom needed someone who genuinely cared for her, and if that was Phil, then so be it. Even if I didn't approve her "type," I wasn't going to be sticking around for long.
Phil gave me an awkward hug, but maybe I made it like that. Mom kissed me on the cheek and handed me an envelope of money with my name scribbled on it. "Spend it wisely because that's all you're getting for the summer unless you get a job. Then go wild!" I raised an eyebrow. "But remember you have college to save up for."
"Education shmeducation," I snorted.
She looked at me disapprovingly.
"I'm joking! Education is very important."
She rolled her eyes and laughed. "I'm going to miss you."
She was stalling. "Go! You're going to be late for your flight."
She grabbed Phil's spare hand and they bounded towards his old jalopy. Her petite figure was skipping along in her flowy, floral dress. There was a faux Hawaiian flower clipped in her hair. Phil, on the other hand, jollily shuffled beside her. If he had skipped like my mother, he would've looked ridiculous. He sported a green Styrofoam visor, which ringed the tiny hairs on his hand. He was balding at an alarming rate, but Mom looked past his appearance and into his "sweet, golden heart."
Their personalities were completely different, and if I ignored the fact that they were both my parents, it was cute.
There were a lot of cars and even more trees. How people found trees scenic, I'll never know, but I yearned for a setting change. How much money do you think it'd take to, I don't know, cover the sides of the highway in a pretty poster? I was pretty sure the lovely citizens of the United States wouldn't pay more taxes for it, especially the tree huggers.
There were few words exchanged between Dakota and me. They were the standard pleasantries: "How's your life been" or "Stop farting, you sicko." Okay, the last one might've only been said once, but that was enough. Thankfully, the radio filled the silence.
Once we got into Jangles, the setting became more enjoyable. Or rather, it was a different kind of tree, one that I actually enjoyed looking at; the palm tree. They just gave the illusion of paradise and created optimism. I loved it.
Dakota also transformed from a wannabe mime into a chatty tour guide. He pointed out all of the restaurants that I should try and which ones I should avoid. He began to tell me about the memories he had made at each locations. The bar called "Hook's Eye" had especially many stories, many involving Cayden, his best friend.
"And this is the place where..."
I zoned out. Maybe I was a bad sister, but I honestly didn't care about how many shots he could down in a minute.
He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex. He parked underneath a spot with a hood. "We're here," he announced, shutting the car door.
I let out a breath and stretched my arms. I reluctantly collected my luggage from the trunk. It landed on the pavement with a thud. Lazily, I reached down to grab the handle but Dakota beat me to it.
"I got it," he said.
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Really?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Why are you so surprised?"
I shrugged. "It's not like you."
He grinned. "That's because you don't know the new and improved Dakota."
I grunted, and if my grandmother was here, she would've told me that grunting was "unladylike." I followed my brother up the short path to the apartment he shared with Cayden.
The apartments he resided in were pretty nice for two party-loving, borderline alcoholics. Each brick building had white windows and doors with manicured lawns and neatly trimmed bushes, giving off an aura of sophistication. I prepared myself for the interior. Bachelors, especially these ones, weren't really known for their exceptional housekeeping skills.
Before Dakota moved away for college, his room at home was an absolute pigsty. I didn't think that I ever knew what his floor looked like until he moved out. After Mom cleared out all the trash, vacuumed it, and removed the stains, it was a nice floor. I avoided walking past his room because whenever the door opened, a strange smell would waft out of it. I planted a wallflower in the outlet across from his room. It was tolerable after that.
I was greeted by the putrid scent of alcohol and sex. I wouldn't know from experience, but it's something you just know. There were pop cans, beer bottles, pizza boxes, and various takeout containers littered throughout the room. Articles of clothing were strewn over the furniture—lamps, tables, chairs. The walls and the semi-fluffy carpet were beige. It was pretty bare, like any day now they were going to skip town.
"So this is the infamous Ashlyn," Cayden said as he bounded loudly down the stairs. I felt as if each step was the cause of an earthquake somewhere else in the world.
"You've met me before," I said, flattered that he was excited to see me, even if it might be fake.
"I know. How could I forget someone as beautiful as you?"
"Same old Cayden," I murmured. "It's nice to know that you haven't changed at all."
"Au contraire! I've gotten stronger and handsomer."
"But you still have that same cocky attitude."
He winced. "I don't like to call it cocky. Confident is such a better word. But enough about me, how have you been? I haven't seen you in years."
"Yeah, I guess it has been a while."
"So...your state of being?"
I laughed and how he phrased it. "I've been stuck in a car with this guy,"—I jerked my thumb at Dakota—"so what do you think?"
"That's got to suck," he sympathized.
"I'm right here, guys," Dakota muttered.
Cayden waved his hand dismissively, purposefully ignoring Dakota. "Don't pay attention to him. He's mentally ill."
Dakota tugged on my arm and slowly led me up the stairs. "You'll be sleeping in my room."
"What about you?"
"I'm rooming with Cayden. Wonderful."
"You sound enthused."
He scoffed. "Right, because that is my lifelong dream. Anyways, you can start unpacking or whatever. Dinner will be here in an hour or so. It's pizza night. Do you still like ham and pineapple?"
I nodded. "It's still my favorite."
He left me to my business. I unzipped my suitcase to get my autographed poster of Jim Carey to hang on the wall. I couldn't leave home without it. So what if he wasn't Channing Tatum or Ryan Gosling? He was a genius. After getting out my patterned thumbtacks, I hung it on the wall opposite of the bed. That way, he would be the first thing that I saw when I woke up. I shoved the suitcase against a wall and flopped onto the bed to take a short nap.
"Ashlyn...Ashlyn wake up. The pizza's here."
I sleepily rubbed my eyes, blinking them a couple of times to recover my sight. "Huh?"
"You're cute when you're asleep, you know that?" Cayden said, smirking down at me.
I grabbed the pillow next to me and smacked him with it. "You're such a creep!"
He winked. "But you love it."
"Did you say that the food was here?"
He nodded. I let out a cry of glee and squealed, "Pizza!" I ran down the stairs and sat on the black futon Indian style. "Did you get stuffed crust?" I asked Dakota.
"Of course I got stuffed crust," he answered with a tone as if I'd just asked him a stupid question.
"Wow. A girl that's excited by greasy food? How refreshing," Cayden remarked, taking a seat next to me.
I ignored his sexist comment and grabbed two slices of pure heaven. The cheese was melted to perfection and the crust was buttery, cheesy, and delicious. The rim was easily my favorite part of the pie.
Ten minutes later, Cayden asked, "You got a boyfriend, sweet pea?"
I felt a blush rising to my cheeks as I shook my head. Wasn't there some sort of code against a guy from flirting—or trying to—with his best friend's younger sister?
"Do you want one?"
"Gross, man. That's my sister."
Cayden shrugged, slurping his fourth slice. "She's hot. The heart wants what the heart wants."
"Control your hormones around my sister, please," Dakota said sternly, glowering at him.
"Okay, I get it. She's your sister. Off-limits."
"Uh, should I leave? This sounds like a talk between you two..." I said, getting up to my feet.
"Sit down, Ashlyn," Dakota said. "We're done. Right, Cayden?"
Cayden nodded. "Yes, sir."
Dakota cracked a smile.