A Five-Minute Life

“We have time for a few photos,” Mom said, readying her cell phone. “Squish together, girls. You too, Linden.”

“You gotta get in here, Mom,” I said. “Use my phone. It has a timer.”

I bounced forward, opened the timer app in my phone and set it on the ledge across from our stairway. Then I bunched up with my favorite people in the world.

“We have ten seconds,” I said through a smile. “Say cheese doodles.”

The phone made a clicking sound. Mom took it off the shelf and checked the image.

“Perfect. You both look beautiful.” Her eyes filled as she turned the camera to our dad. “Don’t they look beautiful?”

Dad nodded. He hugged Delia around the shoulders. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart.” He looked to me and shot me a wink. “You too, sweet pea.”

Twenty-one years old and he was still calling me sweet pea. I hoped he’d never stop.

I slung an arm around Delia. “I’m proud of you too, sis. University of Virginia’s salutatorian. You’re kind of a big deal.”

“Thank you, Thea,” Delia said with the warm smile she saved for special occasions. Then she cleared her throat. Business Mode. “Can we please go now?”

“Yes, yes.” Dad took his car keys off the hook on the wall and opened the front door with a flourish. “Ladies.”

We shuffled toward the door, my feet already pinched in those silly shoes. A phone chimed in someone’s bag or pocket.

“Mine,” Delia said, rummaging in her purse. She read a text and clenched her teeth. “Roger’s parents flaked on him. Again. He needs a ride to graduation.”

“They’re not going to his graduation?” I asked. “God, they are the worst.”

The Nyes lived a few blocks down, in a house like ours, on a street as nice as ours, and yet they may as well have lived on the moon, they were so different from Mom and Dad. My parents’ unfailing love and support for Delia and me made it impossible to understand how the Nyes consistently treated their son like an afterthought.

“No problem,” Dad said. “We can swing by and pick him up.”

Delia took her car keys off the hook now. “No, I’ll drive him. You guys go.”

“Honey, we have time to get him.”

She shook her head. “You know how Roger is. He’ll be embarrassed. It’s better if I drive him.”

She caught us exchanging curious glances as we always did when she brought up Roger. They swore they were only friends, but they’d been inseparable since kindergarten. Only a Roger-in-need could throw my sister off her rigid schedule. Their friendship was one of the few things that brought out her softer side.

“Look,” she said. “Driving with us will only make Roger feel even shittier. He’ll have to watch Mom and Dad be perfect together minutes after his parents let him down again.”

“If you say so,” Dad said.

“I say so.” Delia kissed his cheek, gave Mom a hug and patted me on my head. “Be good,” she said. “I’ll meet you there. Drive safe, but don’t dawdle.”

She gave a final, stern look, then swept past us, out into the warmth of the late May afternoon. Her sharply pressed robes snapped crisply around her smart, low-heeled pumps that clopped on the pavement like a snare drum. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.

“Awesome,” I said. “Now we can stop for pizza.”

Mom gave her blond-going-silver curls a pat. “I think one of the best graduation gifts we can give your sister is to be in our seats when she arrives.”

“Hold up.” I slipped off the heels and took my yellow sandals from the shoe rack at the door.

“Thea,” Mom said. “You promised.”

“Hey, I promised this boring dress. Delia-approved footwear was not in the contract. She won’t know until it’s too late.”

We climbed into Dad’s silver Cadillac. Mom rode shotgun while I sat in the back behind her, and we hit the road, heading out of Richmond toward Charlottesville, Virginia. The views were stunning—rolling green hills and trees under a cloudless blue sky. I loved my home state, but I had no plans to stay in it. After graduating from VCU School of the Arts next year, I was hauling my ass directly to New York City.