Growing Pains

Chapter 43 - Of course I remembered

D A I S Y

After hours on the road, finally, our lake house showed up in the distance. The brown log cabin I had spent my summers in, playing board games on the living room carpet after lunch, waiting for the heat of the day to fade away so we could go outside.

Outside, on the first step of the back porch, where I had hit my head running for the water. On the swing dad had built on the biggest tree, where Jason had been attacked by bees, not once, but twice in the same summer. On the dock, where Zoey and I read for hours under the sun. In the water, where dad had taught us how to swim, or where Jason had almost drowned me, not once, not twice, but at least three times, every summer.

"We're taking the room with the lakeview," I said as soon as I could.

Jason laughed, "So the room with the five generations of mosquitos in it."

"Zoey's really good at killing mosquitos, like, scary good."

She had just woken up, so she said, "I am."

Jason opened the door and proceeded to struggle to get out with his crutches, "I'm not going to help you this time."

"You didn't help us last time either," I said, following Zoey out of the car.

Luke was by the trunk already, helping dad with the bags, and saying something about the house. Zoey stretched in front of me.

"You need to start saying no to Richard, just because he's hot –"

"Who the fuck is Richard?"

"Jason! God damnit!" dad said. He was trying to pretend to Luke that we were Christians even though we weren't even churchgoers. He had tried it with Zoey too when she first came with us years ago, and he had failed just hours in, so I had no idea why he even bothered. He had also just said God damnit, which wasn't very Christian, was it? I had no idea. Again, we weren't even churchgoers.

Jason shrugged. Zoey said, "He's the dad of the kid I babysit."

"And you think he's hot?" Jason asked. "How old is he?"

"I didn't say he was hot. Daisy did."

"And I stand by it," I said. I had looked him on social media, and I would do it again, if I wanted, which I probably would.

"I'm gonna tell dad –"

"I don't wanna hear it," dad stopped him right away, proceeding to throw our bags at us, except for Jason's, of course, who had no hands to catch it with, courtesy of his crutches. Behind dad, Luke stood with his backpack on his shoulders, his dad's Harvard jumper on, and a pair of nice jeans. Dad opened his mouth again, "I'm gonna go start dinner, and then I'm going for drinks with Uncle Pete, so you can have the house all to yourselves. Obviously, there are some rules. No going in the lake at night. No drinking. No going in the attic."

"Dad used to tell us there was a ghost of a Victorian child in the attic," I said.

Luke smiled, "Really?"

Dad shrugged, "It was a good way to keep them off the attic when they were kids. There's a lot of loose nails there and rotten wood. Jason had believed it well into his –"

"I never believed it," Jason said immediately.

"Whatever you say, big guy," dad said. Luke laughed. Jason sent him a look. He stopped.

As promised, dad went to start dinner, which shouldn't take long, seeing as mom had packed us a casserole that would just take minutes to heat up in the oven. Luke and I set the table. Jason pretended to help Zoey light up the fireplace. When we sat down to eat, I remembered.