Page 99 of The Do-Over

I paused, leaned against the table. “I guess I ended up being pathetic, anyway. Who lies about a job and a boyfriend, huh? Me. Mimimimi!” I sang that last bit while turning in a circle. I jerked to a stop when I spotted a certain onlooker. “Who’s boring now, Brent? By the way, your ties are super ugly. All of them.”

Several people chuckled.

“You aren’t making any sense at all,” Mom hissed.

“Is the truth hard to understand?” A little dizzy, I sank into my chair. “Now. I told you the truth. It’s your turn.”

Phee pushed her way through the growing crowd. “Perci, lower your voice, please.”

Pasting on a smile, Mom waved a hand at the guests. “I’m sorry for our little scene.”

No one moved a muscle, including Joel Allen, who stood front and center with a smirk on his stupid, fake face. After he married my sister, we’d be related, and I would have to make up excuses to avoid him. How many kidneys did I have? Four? That would get me through a couple of holiday dinners if I donated them at just the right time, but then… I jolted upright in my chair. In the name of honesty, I should tell Phee this.

So, I did.

“Phee, Joel Allen is stupid and fake. You shouldn’t marry him. If you marry him, I’m going to give away all four of my kidneys just so I don’t have to see him at Christmas. Do you want that on your conscience?”

Phee crouched beside me, eyes wide and panicked. “Please. Go inside.”

I did not go inside.

“And,” I continued, poking a finger at Phee’s stupid pink shirt, “you are not even in love with him.”

My mother glared at me with the vitriol of a thousand angry cats. “Persephone Amelia Mayfield, stop this at once. Your sister does not need—”

“My sister is a liar. It runs in the family, I guess.” I picked up a sausage wrap and spoke around the bite I took. “Did you know she really hates you butting into her life all the time? Oh, and she’s in love with Mathias even though you don’t want her to be.”

“Perci!” A stricken look washed over Phee, draining the color from her face. Her eyes darted between Mom and me. But I noticed she didn’t search out Joel Allen and she didn’t correct me.

“Is this true, Phoebe?” My mother asked, or, rather, demanded.

“Go ahead. Tell her, Phee.” I gestured at my sister, but she only shook her head. “Fine. I will. Mom, butt out of her life. She’s not a little pageant girl for you to mold. She’s got her own plans and you have to let her live them. You should understand what it’s like when something screws up your plans, right?” A hiccup popped out of my mouth, and I giggled.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mom demanded.

Before I could answer, my father pushed his way through the crowd and put an arm on my mother’s shoulders. He smiled widely at the onlookers in the crowd. “Ladies, isn’t it time for the cake?”

A murmur rolled through the crowd, but no one moved. In fact, I’d say they all leaned in a bit closer.

Mom tipped her chin up. “No, I want to hear what Persephone meant by that.”

I selected a stuffed shrimp from the plate on the table. “I saw your marriage certificate at Mimi’s house. Did you know you’ve only been married twenty-nine years, not thirty? Mimi told me you were pregnant with me. That’s why you had to get married, right? Because I was a mistake. What a screw-up I’ve been.”

Something like horror flashed in my mother’s eyes, but it was my father who spoke. “Cupcake, that’s not true. You were never a mistake.”

“Oh, really? Why are we pretending this is your thirtieth anniversary then?” I stood up, slid my shoes off and began to pace in the little patch of grass in front of me. “Why does Mom constantly complain about my weight and my clothes? She tried to talk Brent into proposing.” I plunked down in the chair. “That daycare building she bought? She hiked up the rent so much, now it’s closing.”

Dad took a step back and turned to Mom. “Is that true?”

Panic edged Mom’s voice when she spoke to my father. “What was I supposed to do, Craig? You don’t know the whole story. You know as well as I do that daycare job of hers was ridiculous, but you let me be the bad guy. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked.”

My father stared at his wife of thirty—no, twenty-nine, years, face flushed. He opened his mouth and a choking growl emerged before he slammed it shut. With a shake of his head, he turned on his heels and stalked away. Mom’s eyes followed him, but she didn’t go after him.

“Well, this is turning out to be quite a party,” Mimi said.

Mom’s eyes gleamed as she swung around to face her mother. “This is your fault. You have ruined everything.”

“Now, Bobbie Jo.”