She shook her head. “Come on, I don’t lie to Dad.”
“Uh-huh,” I said sarcastically, thinking about the boys she would sneak around with when we were young. “Because I remember a lot of shit you lied about—”
“Anymore.” She grabbed her beer and took a drink. “Dad has already talked to you and so has Derek, so I don’t realistically think there’s anything I can do to change your mind. But I want you to know that I think you’re wasting your potential working for Mom, and it’s such a disservice to the people who need your care. At the end of the day, people matter, and we need to do whatever we can to help others. That’s the philosophy of this family. I just wish you wouldn’t abandon your principles for some stupid bitch.”
“Daisy, come on.”
“I can say whatever I want about her. If I see her on the street, I’ll make her cry. I’d love the chance to tell her off.” She grabbed a curly fry and extended it by the ends, making it stretch out before it bounced back into place.
“It’s in the past.”
“Exactly. It’s in the past, and you’re still living in the past.”
I gave her a blank look, wishing this conversation would just go away.
She finally gave up. “Alright, I’m done.”
“Thank fucking god.”
We continued to eat our food, letting the tension slowly dissipate.
“So, I met this guy at my poker match. He lives in the city.”
“Yeah?”
“I took his money, and he still asked me out.”
“Maybe to learn how to beat you next time.”
She shrugged. “I can tell him all my tricks, and I’d still wipe the floor with him. And he’s super hot, so I couldn’t care less if he’s just using me.”
When Daisy first started telling me about her guys, it was a little weird, but then she reminded me I was being sexist because Derek and I shared every dirty little secret. And she was only three years younger than me, so she was a grown woman who had every right to have a personal life similar to mine. “Why do you keep going for guys like that?”
“Like what?” she asked, still eating.
“I don’t know…average.”
“Wow. Stuck-up much?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. You’ve never had a serious relationship before, and sometimes I wonder if it’s because you’re always going for the bad-boy type. Somebody like you needs more of a cerebral kind of guy. You’ll never be emotionally fulfilled if you’re going for these bartenders and poker players.”
“I don’t like the cerebral type.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “They’re stuffy. Super serious. Socially awkward. The list goes on and on.”
“I’m not any of those things. Neither are you.”
“Well, I’ve never met anyone like us. They’re all like Dad and Derek.”
“So, are you looking for something serious ever? I mean, you’re getting ever closer to thirty—”
“Oh my god.” She tilted her head back in an exaggerated outburst. “Please don’t worry about my eggs. They’re good, alright?” She looked at me again. “I’m surprised you of all people would say any of this.”
“It’s different.”
“How?” she challenged.
“Because you’re the most amazing woman I know.”
Her hostility immediately faded away.
“I want you to have someone who’s going to bend over backward to make you happy every single day of your life. I want you to have someone who takes care of you. I want you to have a bunch of babies.”
Her eyes softened. “So, you still believe in marriage?”
“I never said that.”
“It sounds like you’re pushing it on me…”
“I think marriage works for some people, like Mom and Dad, Derek and Emerson. But I don’t think it works for me.”
“Or maybe it didn’t work because Catherine was a cunt.” She brought her beer to her lips and took a drink. “Did you ever think of that? On behalf of all women everywhere, we aren’t all cunts. She was just a bad batch.”
“Yeah…maybe.”
“But maybe it’ll go somewhere with this guy. He’s hot, smart, funny… Who knows?”
“So, you’re looking for something serious?”
“I mean, if it happens, it happens. But no, I’m not actively looking for it. I’m assuming it’ll be actively looking for me if it’s meant to be. For now, I’m just enjoying my time as a bachelorette. If I ever get married, I’ve always wanted a relationship like Mom and Dad have, and she told me as soon as she got to know him, she wanted to marry him. There was never any doubt about her feelings. She said she wasn’t baby crazy, but with him, she got baby crazy. And I guess her first way of telling him she loved him was saying she wanted to have his babies.” She chuckled then pulled the beer closer to him.
It made me think of Catherine, the last time our lives were good. We were trying to get pregnant, and we were doing it all over the place, taking ovulation tests so we could bang it out and make a kid. And then, it was over…as if that never happened.