“I knew it! You little sneaks!” Honey is scolding, marching over to the table to snatch Cocoa’s trifle as the two of us raise our eyebrows ‘innocently,’ with our mouths full.

“You were trying to finish it all before I got here!” Honey stamps her foot accusingly.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I laugh, holding up my hand as if to swear with my fingers crossed. Cocoa starts to laugh as she sneaks another spoonful out of the trifle glass in Honey’s hand but is quickly interrupted by a brain freeze.

“That’s what you get for trying to eat everything up without me -” Honey shakes her head taking a bite, only to immediately fake her own brain freeze with an exaggerated, “Oh ow ow ow. Instant karma. Take your glass back, take it back.”

Cocoa obeys the instructions laughing teasingly, “It seems like karma keeps shortening its processing time.”

“Yeah, it used to take 9 to 10 business years,” I quip, “I’ve been waiting more than a decade for some good karma I ordered back in the ninth grade.”

“Good karma shows itself in the form of ice cream,” Honey sighs, running her fingers through her hair, “That’s why I need yours. Hand it over, Mr. Man. I’ve been having a day.”

Even as I relinquish my trifle, Cocoa’s smile becomes a little concerned. 

But she’s still better at subtly than I am.

You’d hardly notice that she’s studying Honey if not for the hint of a frown that darkens her face, as Honey plops down heavily in the seat across from me and starts rummaging hurriedly through her purse like she’s looking for something important.

Cigarettes…

“Why have you been ‘having a day?’” Cocoa asks slowly like she’s making a joke, “Don’t tell me you kicked another potential boyfriend to the curb.”

Honey frowns at her, before assuming her signature ‘diva’ expression, with a flip of her golden hair over one bronze shoulder. “If I kicked him to the curb, it’s because he had no boyfriend potential, Sweetie Pie. I have no time to waste on any more red flags nowadays. But I’m not going into it, so don’t ask. He suggested I should bleach my skin so I hit him with a very heavy purse.”

Cocoa and I both cringe.

“I know, I know,” Honey waves her hand, finding the package of cigarettes now and putting one in her mouth, “As Miss Mowcher says…”

“Hey,” I interject, holding my hand up as she pulls out her lighter.

“Right, I know. I know,” she stops, “I’ll just keep it in my mouth. Ha, ain’t I volatile?”

She laughs miserably at her David Copperfield reference and blows out a long trail of imaginary smoke as she slouches backward into her seat.

“I could be the villain of a 1900s Disney movie,” she jeers herself, laughing hoarsely, “I’m almost as crazy, and I certainly smoke enough. What do you think? Cruella de Vil or Ursula?”

“You are not crazy, Hannah” Cocoa says quietly but firmly, and Honey sighs a little.

Cupping Cocoa’s chin in her free hand, Honey kisses her cheek like a mother and smiles reassuringly.

“No no, I’m not. I won’t say it again, alright? I promise.” 

Sighing again, she stretches her arms out across the table and flicks her cigarette over toward me, with an exhausted frown, “Throw that away for me will you, Nicky?”

I get up and drop the cigarette in the trash as Honey folds her arms on the table and leans her chin on her hands, pouting a little.

“Do you know I’m going to quit again?”

“Oh?” I say pretending to look over the kitchen for anything out of place before turning around, so she won’t try to read into my expression.

“Yeah,” she laughs raspily, leaning back in her chair, “Maybe I’ll make it a whole three months this time.”

Cocoa frowns again, but Honey doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment on it.

“Are you feeling…,” I start to ask, but then change my mind, “Why’d you decide you want to quit?”

I catch myself before I can say ‘again,’ and just look at her with the most invested and attentive expression I can think up.

Honey doesn’t reply for a minute, drawing little hearts in the condensation pooling on the table where Cocoa’s glass had been sitting. 

“I’ve already got enough reasons,” she mumbles almost inaudibly, “I’m tired of you guys being better than me at karaoke.”

She smiles mildly, like she’s teasing, but she looks so tired.

What was my bad date to hers? Any of my bad days honestly...

I feel myself trying to smile brightly and change the subject, but before I can, Cocoa is asking her.

“You’re sure you don’t want to talk about what happened during the date, Honey?”

“Of course. It’s fine,” Honey smiles serenely, with what used to be a reassuring smile. Then she corrects herself, and any semblance of comfort drains out of me again. 

“I mean..it’s not fine. But I’m fine. It’s no different from what Mom and Dad say, so why should I let myself be bothered by some a…” 

Honey stops herself, putting a new cigarette up to her mouth. It’s barely touched her lips before she sets it on the table and rolls it over to me again with a sigh.

“Well, no use wasting my time, right? Jerks will be jerks. I won’t cry over anyone who didn’t love me in the first place. Only reason I’m mad is because he was supposed to buy me dessert, and now I didn’t get any, that’s why I need yours. Do you still have those fudge pops in the freezer, Nicky?.”

Before I can answer, Cocoa stops me by handing Honey the rest of her trifle.

“Just take this. Dominic’s been having a day himself, so he’ll probably need them later.”

Oh, come on. It’s not like I eat my feelings.

“Oh?” Honey raises her eyebrows, looking over at me, “Weren’t you on a date with the chick you met at the convenience store today? Did something happen?”

“From what I can make out, he’s sulky because the woman of his dreams didn’t pick him up in her arms and carry him into the sunset,” Cocoa frowns, crossing her arms.

“What the what?” I open my mouth in confusion and bafflement, “How on earth did you spin that from the absolutely nothing that I said.”

“Well, when you don’t answer questions you leave yourself open for speculation," Cocoa juts out her lip. "I clearly have an overactive imagination. Care to clarify?”

“Please do. I’m tired of failing to fix my problems. I’d rather fail to fix other people’s,” Honey muses, admiring a chip on her fake nails.

She’s got a third cigarette in her hand now.

“You know, we don’t even know what this chick looks like. Is she pretty?” she mumbles the last question as the cigarette has made its way into her mouth.

“Of course she’s pretty,” I smile a little uncomfortably.

Maybe if I talk about myself…

“Yeah, Honey! How dare you insinuate that Dominic would date a girl for her personality,” Cocoa scolds her, “Go on bro.”

…She’ll laugh at someone other than herself.

“Cocoa, that's not...defending me,” I frown a little, pretending to be more annoyed than I am.

“Alright, my bad,” Honey laughs now, leaning forward on the table again, “So if I know Nicky we are talking hawt. Legs for days…”

“Right,” Cocoa agrees.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

“Maybe a little cutesy, a little bit flirty,” Honey is going on, “But on a scale from Taylor Swift to Maci Currin how much leg are we talking? Zendaya? T Swift...?”

“I can't tell. Did he redden by two shades or one?” Cocoa laughs.

“Ohhh, Taylor Swift. Noiiiicce,” Honey waggles her fingers in my direction, squinting her eyes mockingly.

“You girls are creeps.”

“Thank you, we learned from the best,” Honey laughs, flicking her cigarette across the table to me again.

“I did not train you two, and I’m going to my room,” I sigh with a finishing motion of my hands to emphasize how over this conversation is. Before I can stand up, though, Honey reaches across the table like she thinks she’s Elastagirl incarnate, and pushes me back down into my seat.

“Okay, okay. We’re kidding, we’re kidding,” she’s saying, looking at me with eyes that have lost all their playfulness, “So seriously, what does this girl look like? What does she do for a living? Where is she from?”

Sighing, I give up any attempt to stand and lean my elbows on the table, trying to figure out if they’re done teasing before I try to answer.

“She works as an editor, mostly for romance novels. I’m not sure where she’s from. She’s…”

I hesitate for a minute, trying to figure out a way to describe her that won’t sound creepy.

“She’s pretty tall and slim. Kind of sleepy eyes. Do not bring up Jessica Rabbit,” I say quickly when Honey opens her mouth.

“You don’t know that I was gonna say that,” Honey mumbles, crossing her arms. Cocoa just rolls her eyes.

“And she’s got a…”

I redden.

Yeah, I’m not going to try to describe her complexion. At least not out loud. 

“... a lot of hair,” I sigh, trying to sound exasperated. “She wore it out in an afro both times I saw her.”

Both Honey and Cocoa get really quiet really fast, and I can see the silent questions they’re asking each other telepathically.

I can hear your thoughts, you know.

Honey is the one who decides to ask out loud, “She’s African American?”

Oh, ding ding ding.

Stop.

I know the evening I’ve had is making me feel a lot less patient than I want to be, and I’m just grateful I have a speed bump between my brain and my tongue.

“Yes, she’s black,” I try to say it like it’s no big deal, but I know exactly why they’re asking. 

Cocoa has subconsciously started squeezing her hands together like she’s freezing cold, and I can tell she has so many more questions when her eyes meet mine, warily.

Darker than me?

But Honey changes the subject before anybody can say anything else about the topic at hand, dropping her spoon into her glass with a resonating clang before she claps her hands together briskly, and asks cheerfully, “Oh, Nicky, do you know if Grandpa made the next new book order yet? I hear there’s a new novel out that’s selling really well lately, and everybody’s trying to get their hands on a copy.”

Cocoa clears the dishes quietly as Honey keeps talking, but I can see Honey watching her out of the corner of her eye.

Is this going to become a conversation sometime when I’m not around?

Well, it doesn’t matter since I’ll probably never talk to Miss Walker again.

I don’t even want to think about this right now…

“Froufrou and the girls have been trying to buy it for the last week but all the bookstores keep selling out. You guys should totally read it for your next book club meeting, and maybe talk to Grampy about selling it in the store. I’m sure it’ll do well.”

I want to go to my room. I want to go to sleep and just wake up in the morning once I’ve slept off these feelings, but I manage to smile faintly, “Dad has me making the orders now actually.”

“It’s been kind of exhausting for Gramps to try to arrange all the order forms and technical stuff lately so Dad just made that part of my job too. Not that I mind. You know I love reading,” I laugh with the last statement before either of them can say anything and smile genuinely so they’ll know it’s nothing to worry about.

Even so, Honey seems a little hesitant to let it go.

I know you want to protect me, but I swear, I really am fine.

After a minute, she just shakes her head at the table.

I hope that means she believes me.

To my surprise, it’s Cocoa who mutters almost under her breath, from where she’s washing the dishes.

“It’s not the same kind of reading and you know it, Dominic. It’s practically another full-time job. Can’t we afford to hire somebody to help?”

“Well, yeah…”

I trail off like I’m going to say something else but realize I have nothing to add.

It is taking up most of my time, but I guess I expected that when I quit working at Eclectic.

I just didn’t know how many new tasks would keep making their way into the workload…

“Well, I still have my evenings,” I smile at both of them, but they don’t smile back.

Most of my evenings, anyway.

“And the book club, and gym time...,” I laugh again because they’re still staring at me, “so it’s not like I’m not doing anything for myself anymore. I’ll be…”

Fine.

This is just fine. It's just a different kind of fine.

There’s a long silence, and I have to resist the urge to start laughing or trying to make a joke.

“I’ll be graduating soon,” Cocoa says after a minute, “And I’ll be able to help out.”

Honey makes a face at that, but both me and Cocoa pretend we can’t see her. 

It’s not like I don’t know what she’s thinking, anyway.

‘You don’t have to do that, Nichole. You know that.”

“I know,” Cocoa smiles, shaking her head with a heavy sigh, “Neither do you.”

“Well…”

It’s…different for me.