Wallflower In Bloom by Claire Cook Page B

seen.
    The top of a head covered with short curly hair appeared. The knocking started again.
    “Open up,” a voice yelled. “Come on, I know you’re in there, Deirdre.”

 
    She who hesitates is lost, but she who doesn’t hesitate might end up even loster .
    W hat were you thinking?” Joanie Baloney said when I opened the door.
    “Nice to see you, too,” I said. Tag’s golf cart was directly behind her, tilted at a funny angle. I remembered hitting Mitchell, and for a minute I wondered if he’d damaged it. Then I realized I’d managed to drive one wheel onto the bottom step when I parked the cart as close as I could get to make it easier to unload the groceries. I squinted. Mitchell hadn’t even left a dent. What a crybaby.
    Crybaby made me think of baby baby—Ethan’s dream baby, Mitchell’s baby-to-be. Sadness flooded over me like sleeping sickness, and all I wanted to do was find my bed again.
    “Nice parking job,” my younger sister said.
    “Boo!” My six-year-old niece, Jenna, jumped out from behind the golf cart.
    “Boo!” My two-year-old nephew, Johnny, jumped out, too.
    Joanie and Jenna were wearing matching little purple cotton dresses that were perfect for a six-year-old, and the purple of Johnny’s golf shirt was exactly the same shade. I just knew Joanie’s husband, Jack, was sitting at home in a bigger version of the same golf shirt.Maybe I’d never had kids, but at least I’d never humiliated any either. Joanie said they all loved to dress alike, but I could only hope they were humoring her.
    Jenna and Johnny threw themselves at me, a cross between a hug and a tackle. They both had curly dark hair and shiny brown eyes, and when I looked at them, all I could think was that these apples hadn’t fallen far from the family tree. They could have been us when we were kids.
    I squatted down to hug them back. “Hey,” I said. “What’s up, munchkins?”
    “Brush you teeth,” Johnny said.
    I turned my head. “Sorry. I’ve been working up to that.”
    “Can I come watch you be on TV?” Jenna said. “I’m a good dancer.” She pushed away from our group hug and started twirling around on the front yard.
    I wasn’t quite following her. I looked at Joanie.
    “Okay, kids,” she yelled. “Give Auntie Dee another hug and go tell Daddy Mommy said to push you on the swings.”
    “I don’t need a push,” Jenna said.
    “Me want a push,” Johnny said.
    Maybe all that dressing alike had caused some kind of extrasensory family perception, because a purple-shirted Jack magically appeared at the end of the path that led from their house to mine. He waved. Joanie waved back.
    Then she crossed her arms over her chest and walked past me and into the sheep shed.
    I followed her inside. “What were you thinking?” she said again.
    I started to walk by her in the direction of the refrigerator. “What?” I said. “Tag’s fine. Mom and Dad are with him.”
    She grabbed me by the arm. “You look like shit. And it’s all over the news.”
    I aimed my breath away from her. “That I look like shit?”
    “I can’t believe you took advantage of Tag like that.”
    “Like what?” I said. “By quitting?” Fuzziness surrounded my head like a helmet, but just beyond that something was lurking. And it wasn’t a good thing.
    Joanie tilted her head. “Uh, Tag beseeches fans to vote his favorite sister onto Dancing With the Stars ?”
    “What are you talking about?” I said.
    “Nice try, Dee,” my little sister said.
    I closed my eyes as it all came back. I kept them closed as I tried to come up with a believable story, but my pickled brain cells just didn’t have it in them.
    “Of course I didn’t take advantage of Tag,” I said, fighting to concoct a good story as the dread enveloped me. “I just thought it would be great publicity. And, come on, you’ve seen him dance. It’s not like we could send him .”
    Joanie looked at me. We were a family built on the scaffolding of meetings.