The Other Side of Tomorrow

“Do you want me to call?” she asks, her eyes bright with excitement, and I know I can’t say no, besides it might be good for me.

“Yeah, go ahead and call,” I agree. “But only if there’s a time I can practice on my own. I … I’m not ready to join a class.” Especially with being so out of practice. I was sure there would be many moves my body wouldn’t be fluid enough to do anymore.

Harlow glances at me and I can see a question in her eyes. I shake my head, telling her now is not the time. We’ll talk later when it’s the two of us.

“Is your dad in the shower?” Mom asks, standing up.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Let’s go ahead and get everything on the table then. I’m starving. This smells delicious, honey.” She smiles at me gratefully.

“I hope it tastes just as good,” I reply.

By the time we have the food and drinks on the table my dad has come downstairs in his pajamas with his hair damp.

Dinner is spent catching up; it’s one of the few times of the day we all sit down together. We always make sure to ignore our phones and just be in the moment. Occasionally we’ll watch a movie as a family, but dinner is a must.

After we’ve eaten, my dad heads straight for the chair in the family room and kicks his feet up on the ottoman. He picks up his book and reading glasses from the side table and flips the pages.

I doubt he’ll come up for air until it’s time to go to bed.

“Do you girls mind loading the dishwasher?” my mom asks.

We’re quick to tell her it’s not a problem, and she gives a small, tired smile before disappearing upstairs to shower.

Mom’s a middle school teacher, and how she does it is beyond me. The idea of spending a whole day wrangling kids in puberty age doesn’t sound appealing to me, and she does it five days a week.

Dad, on the other hand, is a lawyer, so he wrangles a whole different kind of people all day long.

Harlow and I clear the table together, both of us quiet. I want to ask her about Spencer, but I know not to do it yet, not in front of Dad. He might be reading now, but if I mention a boy’s name he’ll be sure to come to life.

Between the two of us it doesn’t take us long to get everything cleaned up. We both make our way upstairs and into our opposite rooms. Perry follows me into mine, tail wagging. I think since I’m home more than anyone else he’s attached himself to me and made me his favorite person.

I bustle around my room, straightening it up a little more. I plop unceremoniously into my chair at my desk and lift the lid on my MacBook. I watch some YouTube videos, check Twitter and Buzzfeed, and then get sucked into Pinterest. Finally, I force myself to close it, knowing if I don’t I’ll be scrolling through for another hour, and I need to get ready for bed.

I shower and change into pajamas before walking across the hall and tapping lightly on Harlow’s door.

“Come in,” she replies, and I push her door open.

I find her sitting on her bed, under the covers, typing away on her laptop.

She closes it and smiles when she sees me, moving it to the side.

“Sit.” She pats her bed, pushing pillows aside to make room for me.

I sit, crossing my legs, and brush my damp hair off my shoulder.

“I ran into someone today,” I begin.

“Ooh.” She grins from ear to ear. “This sounds interesting. Do tell.”

I shake my head. I knew Harlow would be all over this.

“We went to school together … before, you know. His name is Spencer. I can’t remember his last name. He knew you were my sister.”

“Oh, yeah, I know him,” she chimes. “He’s a senior but we’re in the same cooking elective. He burnt my cookies once.” She frowns suddenly like this is the saddest thing that could ever possibly occur.

I realize now that I have no more to say about the encounter and I feel silly for being excited to tell her about it.