I give David a look to appear presentable as I go to the door and unlock it. I make sure to plaster a smile of my own on as I swing the door open. "Rodney!" I cry, throwing my arms around him.
Rodney returns my hug and steps into the room. "Nice room," he says. I notice that he is pleased about the double beds, but doesn't say anything. Since my father never had siblings, he was always overprotective of his cousin Rose, and just because she was a year younger than he was, although the fact that he said nothing just made it better.
"Thanks," I reply. "I don't think the place is very crowded right now, so..."
He nods and claps David good naturedly on the back as the latter approaches him. "Are you ready for a home cooked meal?"
"Always," David says, getting to his feet and putting his arm around my waist, so that nobody would know for a moment that we'd been fighting. "Just lead the way, Rodney."
We walk out of the room and clearly see Rodney's car parked in the parking lot, with Roxy in the front seat. She is wearing a mauve strapless blouse and what looks to be white spandex pants and black heels—as her feet are up on the dashboard. She has the visor pulled down and is applying makeup—a startling shade of red lipstick is applied to its proper place. She drops her feet onto the floor and flips the visor back into place as we three converge upon the car, her cheeks flaming at the sight of me.
Rodney pulled his seat forward so as David and I could get into the back. I had no plans on sitting with him, however. I turned to my technical cousin and made my eyes rather large. This is what I'd done with Dad in the past when I'd wanted something, when he'd been around more, and it always worked.
"Rodney," I asked in my most innocent voice, "I'd like to drive." I can see Roxy start to protest but I don't even look at her. "Please."
Rodney shrugs and immediately tosses over the keys. "Go ahead, Rose. I have complete confidence in you."
I shoot him a grin and don't make eye contact with either Roxy or David as Rodney climbs in the back with the latter. I return the seat to its former position and let myself inside the car. I shut the door with a careful slam and buckle my seatbelt, and hear two clicks behind me as both Rodney and David do the same. I look over at Roxy, who looks as if she wants to shoot herself, who has just started puffing on a cigarette.

"Seatbelt, please, Roxy," I say softly to her.
Roxy shoots me a look, and takes a long drag on her cigarette. She blows it right into my face, and leaves a lipstick mark on it. "Why?" she asks.
I narrow my eyes slightly. "Because I'm the driver," I say firmly. "The driver gets to pick the rules, and my rules apply to safety."
She takes another long drag and again blows it into my face. I am amazed that her lipstick remains perfect throughout our exchange, and this just gets me even angrier. "What if I don't want to?" comes Roxy's reply.
At once, I reach out and grab the cigarette out from between her lips. I manage to get to the box as well, clasped in her other hand, and throw the both of them out the window, where they unexpectedly land in a trash can. "No smoking on my watch," I nearly growl, shocked that David's way of thinking had somehow managed to rub off on me in so short a time. "Now put your seatbelt on and stop acting like a child! I think you know that includes keeping your feet on the ground..."
Roxy blinks but then does what I tell her. She remains silent all the way to Greta and Scott's house, and then she gets out of the car, leaving Rodney to follow after her. I smirk at her apparent fear, forcing myself not to laugh out loud at her pessimistic nature. David leisurely gets out of the car after Rodney and puts his arm around my waist.
"Man, I thought you would've hit her."
I shake my head. "Not this time," I reply as we walk up to the front door, where Rodney and Roxy have disappeared through. We walk into what appears to be a living room and are immediately hit with the heavenly smell what I assume is dinner. David and I follow the smell until we reach the kitchen, my tennis shoes silent on the linoleum.

"Aunt Greta?" I say tentatively, hoping that I sound convincing enough for the role of my second cousin.
She turns around and instantly smiles.
So far, so good.
"Rose, sweetheart!" she says, and I am just able to break away from David so as I can cross the room to hug her back. "It is so, so good to see you! We were afraid that, after what happened here last time, that we wouldn't see you until your wedding!"
"What did happen last time?" asked David, for it would have looked weird if I had asked, for I'd supposedly been there.
"You didn't tell him?" Greta asks.
I shake my head. "No. I thought that you'd best be the one. After all, you're so good at stories, Aunt Greta."
Greta sighs. "Well, you never did like Roxy, dear..."
"Do you like Roxy, Aunt Greta?" I ask softly.
She looks around, as if to make sure that either Roxy or Rodney aren't around us, or within earshot, at the moment. "No," she replies, "but if there's one thing I do not condone, its violence on my property."
David steps forward. "Violence?" he asks.
Greta nods, giving me a look. "Roxy slapped her after Rose took her cigarettes away and so Rose essentially thought they should step outside and talk about it and, well..."
"What?" I ask, without thinking.
"You took her for a good five seconds and then Roxy broke your nose," says a voice from behind us, and then Scott is in the room and putting his arm around Greta's waist and kissing her on the cheek. "Rose, always nice to see you," he says with a smile. "I enjoyed the first five seconds of the fight, but I just about wanted to kill Roxy when she broke your nose."
"That's right," says Greta, and then she gets a good look at me. I know that she can see that my nose is in perfect condition, as I have never broken a bone in my entire life. "Did you get it fixed, dear?"
"My nose?" I ask, going red. "Oh, yeah," I say, laughing it off. "It was Mom and Dad, you know. I just had to look good for this one picture..."
Greta and Scott laugh. "Of course," Greta says. "If there's anything I've learned from my brother-in-law, its perfection."
Scott gives Greta another kiss, gazing down at her. "Well, honey, you were pretty darn perfect when we first met."
"And where was that?" I want to know.
"Tempus High," Scott says, his brown eyes attempting to figure out how I'd forgotten. "You knew that, didn't you, Rose?"
I nod quickly, letting out a nervous laugh before I can rein it in. "Of course, Uncle Scott, I just have a lot on my mind at the moment, is all."
He nods and looks at Greta's progress on the dinner. "Sure smells good in here, babe," he says with a smile and a look full of love.
I have the urge to look away, because part of me thinks that I will never have that myself, but I don't want to be rude either. I pretend to be staring at a calendar which is turned to April, and has pictures of The Beatles all over it, and establishes that it is April, 1982. It feels weird to see something like that, but I brush it off and lean in closer to David, deciding to play up the love-struck teenager a bit longer.
"David, why doesn't Scott show you around the house?" says Aunt Greta, causing me to return my eyes to them. "Rose, dear, why don't you lay the table for me?" she asks.
I nod. "Yes, of course," I say, following her eyes to where some plates are stacked on the counter with napkins and forks. I turn and look at David, unsure of what to do, but he merely leans down and kisses me, and, although I know he must be brimming with anger towards me, I find that I can detect passion in his lips as they touch mine.
I break away from him as soon as the kiss is finished and make my way over to the stacked plates. I can easily take them all into my hands and I look through the inside window-type-thing and find the dining room table just through it. I walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway before making a left and arriving in the dining room. There are some powder blue placemats on the table already which match the napkins I'm holding and there are six in all, enough for this evening. I set each plate at a place and easily complete the place setting by adding the napkins and forks.
I raise my eyes to the other half of the room, and see that it is a typical 1980's living room, complete with an ugly-patterned couch which must be from the 70's and an oversized television. There is a sliding glass door beyond that, which I see leads to the patio and, beyond that, the backyard. There is a round table on the patio, and I see Roxy and Rodney sitting at it, under a striped umbrella, sipping iced lemonade. It is easy to see that Rodney is trying to convince Roxy of something, as his hands are out in pleading sort of way. It is also very simple to figure out that Roxy doesn't want to hear it, as her arms are crossed, and her lips form a childish pout.
I see two gold candlesticks on a side table and put them in the middle of the table, along with a vase of violets. I find two medium-length light blue candles and stick them both into the sticks, and then stand back to admire the job. The last time I ate at the table for a whole meal was the Christmas when I was thirteen. All the other times Mom and Dad had taken Luke and me skiing, or they'd been at some god forsaken medical conferences, or they'd been called to their practice for an emergency.
My mind snapped to listen to something that Aunt Greta was saying. She was telling me to go to the oak cabinet and get out the hot server thing... I can't hear the word she used, but I know what she is talking about. I open the door and see the exact one that we have at our house—a pretty blue piece that is a bit heavy and can sustain a center platter. I place it by her chair—I know it is her chair based upon the family photo we have in our den—and await further instructions from her.
David and Scott enter the scene just as Greta comes in, bearing the platter full of chicken parmesan. Scott gives her an indulgent look and takes the platter from her so as Greta will be able to call Roxy and Rodney inside. David and I sit together where Scott has stated we can and Roxy and Rodney troop inside the house in Greta's wake.
I am perplexed when David sits down beside me that he takes my hand very unexpectedly, in a moment of compassion. I look over at him, my eyes questioning his motive, but he is staring straight ahead. It is almost as if he senses me looking at him, however, and he squeezes my hand in a reassuring sort of way. I remain silent and nod my thanks when Greta serves me some chicken parmesan and wait until everyone else is served and after Greta gives permission to eat before I pick up my fork. It is times like this that I'm thankful that being left handed means I can still hold David's hand.
"Rose?"
I look up at Scott. "Yes, Uncle Scott?" I ask.
"Why is your fork in your left hand?" he asks.
"Because I'm left handed," I reply.
Scott blinks but doesn't brooch the subject, although Roxy, Rodney, and Greta are all looking at me curiously. I go silent again as I easily cut up my chicken with the side of my fork, so as not to let go of David's hand. I feel a wave of comfort pass over me for the first time today, and part of me wonders just how long it will last.
The meal continues with stereotypical conversation, and a bit about how President Carter would ultimately have a faceoff later in the year with some republican candidate. I knew that, this time next year, there would be a new president—Ronald Regan—in office, but of course I had to keep my mouth crammed shut.
Maybe this family wouldn't believe that an actor couldn't be president either, and I forced myself not to make too many revealing comments. Personally, I thought that two terms of him was way too many, anyhow. I don't know about you, but I am, and will always be, a registered Democrat—unofficial at this point, due to my age—and I'd kicked myself for not being born a year and a few months earlier so as I'd be able to vote for Obama.
Then it is that time of forks scraping plates that have bits of tomato sauce all over them. Roxy has managed to keep her face clean, and she offers to help Greta clear, along with Scott and Rodney following behind her. I am about to stand and bring my plate to the kitchen as well, but realize that David is still holding tightly to my hand. My eyes lower to our hands, clasped like lovers, to his beautiful face.
"David?" I say softly.
He blinks and turns to look at me. He gives a smile like the one that Scott gave to Greta and picks up his napkin. He takes an ice cube from his water glass and rubs it for a moment on the napkin before dabbing said napkin gently on my face. It is so brief, yet so tender and considerate that I find myself falling for him all over again.
"Thank you," I say in a quiet voice.
David nods and manages to snag my plate and take it into the kitchen himself, much to my chagrin. I pick up the napkins and find a laundry basket on the couch and plop all six of them in it. I do the same with the placemats and then I return the candlesticks to the side table and the candles to their cupboard and the vase of violets to the mantle. I walk out onto the back porch and stare out at the immaculate view before me.
"Wow," I whisper in awe.
"It is something, isn't it?"
I turn to see Rodney coming out to join me. I nod vigorously, and remind myself again and again that this hip guy is my dad. "Yeah, it's totally amazing, Rodney," I reply.
He stands beside me. "Yeah, when you were here last summer, it wasn't even possible to see anything. That was before Dad got permission from the city to cut down the trees obliterating the sound."
I nod again. "Yeah, I've always liked Puget Sound."
"So tell me," he says, grinning down at me, "how did you meet David? Did he pick you up or vice versa?"
I blush. "Um, neither really," I admit. "He's my best friend's older brother," I explain to him, and hope that'll be the end of that.
"He's older?" Rodney asks.
I nod. "He's a senior," I say steadily then. "I'm a junior. It's not like it's a big deal or anything like that."
Rodney blinks. "You're a sophomore," he says.
I feel like disappearing forever. "I kind of took some credits after I left here last summer so now I qualify as a junior," I explained.
Rodney nods at the explanation. "Nice," he says.
I turn away from him and dig in my bag for my cigarettes and my lighter. I pull a tobacco stick from the box and light it quickly with my lighter. I inhale deeply and shut my eyes for a moment of pure heaven. And then everything comes crashing down.
"You're not just a bitch, but you're a hypocritical one, aren't you?" says a demanding voice from behind me.
I open my eyes and turn around, seeing Roxy with her arms crossed. I remove the cigarette from my mouth and tap the ash at its end that has already formed, and even though I know I should remain calm, I know that it will turn out to be extremely difficult. "Roxy, just lay off me, okay? I'm not saying I'm perfect, and you sure as hell aren't either."
Roxy advances toward me, her eyes narrowed, and her hands quickly forming into fists; she is ready to fight. "Say that to my face, Radcliffe."
"I believe I just did, Abernathy," I growl back.
Roxy gasps at my attitude towards her and slaps me full across the face. She gives me a smug look, like I will not do anything back to her. She turns away from me and takes out a pocket mirror. She removes some blush from her pocket and fluffs her hair in the mirror, all the while calmly applying blush. "Coward," she mutters, checking her lipstick.
I look up towards the door, where I see David detecting my anger, and in the corner of my eye, I can see Rodney not knowing what to do. I say without thinking, "I'm sorry about this, you guys," because Roxy doesn't know about my training at the hands of the person pretending to be my boyfriend. I turn back and look at Roxy, who is just laughing and laughing at what a fool she's been in this crafty situation. I unbuckle my sense of reality and find that I am speaking through my teeth. "Roxy. You'd put that mirror down right now if you know what's good for you, missy," I growl.
She turns and looks at me. "Excuse me?"
I narrow my eyes, slipping my box of cigarettes into my pocket and tossing my bag across the deck to David. "You heard me." I keep my eyes narrowed, yet I am completely focused if this snake decides to strike.
Roxy shakes her head. "I...I don't..."
I am shocked that she is acting this way, when she won the fight last time—or maybe she knows she's about to fight someone else. "Really, are you that bad at taking orders?" I ask. I yank her mirror away from her and grab her with full force and drag her into the backyard below the patio. I slam her up against the back of the wooden fence and stick my face right into hers. "Now, you listen to me," I say firmly to her, "you are never to treat me, or anyone else like that, ever again," I say in a growl. "You make people think like they're nothing because you really feel dead inside, and it has to stop right now. If you ever speak to me in that way again, I'll do to you what you did to my nose."
Roxy suddenly finds her bad girl strength and pushes me away. "Oh, will you just lay off me, Radcliffe?" she demands. "You're just a hypocritical bitch who's jealous because you're not gorgeous like me."
I narrow my eyes. "At least I have a mind that you could never hope or have a prayer for," I snarl. "I'm happy to be blessed with a brilliant mind and nothing you say will ever make me want an empty headed expression like yours is twenty-four seven!"
At that, Roxy goes in with her fist to break my nose. Anticipating this, I duck down from the blow and grab her by the middle. Then we are rolling around on the grass and yelling and screaming at each other. We are calling each other every name in the book—bitch, stupid head, you name it. And then, all of a sudden, I'm on top of her, and I've managed to get her hands behind her back. And then she is cowering, and the shoe is on the other foot.
I raise my eyes and see Greta looking horrified; Scott looking apprehensive; Rodney looking worried; and David...well, I could see behind that concerned exterior that he was pleased that my training had paid off. I lower my eyes and return my gaze to that of the cowering Roxy. "I never want to see you treat me or anyone like this, ever again," I growl at her.
She nods vigorously.
Satisfied, I get to my feet and offer her a hand. She takes it begrudgingly before running over to Rodney for comfort from the physical pain of being bested by me, and the emotional pain of grass stains all over her outfit.
I have had all I can take about Roxy's supposed bravery, so I take my purse from David and say goodnight to everyone. David is following me back up the road to our hotel, and we walk in silence for the first few hundred steps. Finally, I take it upon myself to say something. "Did you think that I was going to do any permanent damage?" I ask him.
David chuckles and puts his arm around my waist, and I find I am loving the contact from his strong, capable hand. "Knowing you, anything is possible," he replies.