Aba frowns like that’s exactly what he wanted to do.
“I’m thankful for something,” I say, making eye contact with Aba, showing him I’m on his side, like always. He beams at me. “I’m thankful we didn’t have to go to school yesterday.”
“I’m thankful no one got carsick on the way up,” Ima says.
“I’m thankful your ima convinced me to leave my laptop at home.”
Adina lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
I keep it going. “I’m thankful for this salmon, which is delicious.”
“That I’m awake to have dinner with my family.”
“That one of my daughters appreciates Nirvana.”
We all look to Adina. “Okay, okay,” she says, shaking her head like she can’t believe she’s related to us. “Fine. I’m thankful only one of my parents forces us to listen to Nirvana.”
It isn’t very funny, but we laugh anyway.
At the end of the meal, when Beau clears the table, he says, “I hope you enjoyed everything this evening.”
Adina looks up at him from beneath her lashes and smiles with her heart-shaped mouth. “We did. Thank you for taking care of us.” The way she says it, it sounds suggestive.
Two pink spots appear on his cheeks. “Anytime,” he says.
A mix of envy and admiration surges through me. I can’t help it. I wish I had one-tenth of that confidence.
Back in our hotel room, Adina turns on the TV. I’m about to send Zack a photo with the caption CANADIAN TV, but I freeze when Adina gasps and says, “Remember this movie? Oh my God.”
It’s a mediocre romantic comedy from five years ago. A girl and guy are baristas at rival coffee shops, and the girl is a klutz but the guy finds her charming and the guy wasn’t ready for marriage until he met her. The usual clichés. Adina and I are suckers for sappy, unintentionally hilarious movies.
“It’s the part where they try to get each other to fuck up by ordering a really complicated cup of coffee!” I say. “Turn it up.”
“The best part,” Adi agrees, spiking the volume.
“Do you remember,” I say, “when we got kicked out of Mystic Harbor for talking?” It was a tragedy romance with two attractive white people kissing on the movie poster.
“Yes! That was so unfair. Our commentary was more interesting than the movie. I can’t believe—”
“—that the girl was actually her twin sister the entire time? I wish secret twin story lines would go away. There’s no way that happens in real life as much as it does in movies.”
My hand is still on my phone, but after a few minutes, I relax back on the twin bed and prop my head up with a pillow. Maybe this is how we fix us: gradually, while watching a dumb movie.
During a commercial break, Adi says, “You want some candy from the vending machine?” An ad for a knife that can cut through granite plays onscreen.
“Get M&M’s, if they have them.”
When the door clicks shut, I grab my phone, which has been blinking next to me for the past fifteen minutes.
My favorite movie is playing at Rain City Cinema next Sunday. Ever been?
Rain City Cinema is a run-down but well-loved indie theater where audience participation, such as throwing things at the screen, is highly encouraged.
Yeah. Lindsay and I saw Rocky Horror there a few years ago.
I’m gonna kick myself if you say no again, but I guess I’m feeling lucky today. Want to come?
I ball my damp hands into fists and recall my conversation with Lindsay. Zack could be new and scary—but also thrilling.