I’m much sweatier than I’d prefer to be at 9 a.m. by the time I'm done unloading the boxes, but at least I wore dark colors to work today.

Might as well get in some exercise anyway, since I won’t be able to hit the gym before book club.

I resist the sigh and squeeze myself into the little bathroom at the back of the store to splash my face with cold water. Someone forgot to restock the paper towels again, so I dry my face on my shirt and go to the storage closet for a new roll of towels.

My face still feels uncomfortably heated.

I don’t want to be in this kind of mood at 9 a.m. either…but somehow I always forget that my attitude is my choice when Mom is around.

Come on Nicky Giang, big smile. This is your day, make the best of it.

Shaking my head, I turn off the bathroom light and step out into the storefront just to immediately feel out of place in the familiar space.

It smells pungently of Mom’s perfume. 

Not that that’s an inherently unpleasant smell. Just not the most comforting one in the world.

Cocoa is already behind the counter, but Mom is meandering about out front, making sure that all the windows are clean enough, though she doesn’t have anything with her to use for cleaning if they weren’t.

No doubt she’d send Cocoa-

Nope - stop.

Deep breath, Nicky. Very deep breath.

For grandpa…

Smile.

“Double checking the inventory?” I lean on the counter, grinning as brightly as I can, and Cocoa glares up at me, her eyes dancing with rage.

“All the shelves are fully stocked,” she says shortly, not looking me in the eye. “We’re a little short on change in the cash register though. Do you have ten dimes for a dollar?”

“Probably not,” I cringe sheepishly. “They’d be in the car.”

She looks at me again, her face still burning with fury and then drops her gaze straight back down onto the checklist.

“I can take over behind the counter, Cocoa,” I offer in a low voice, as the front door announces Mom’s entrance. “You know you don’t have to stay here.”

“No, she’ll just complain about that too,” Cocoa replies sharply, through her teeth. “I’ll just…cover the counter until lunchtime, I guess. Then I gotta go, or I’ll be late meeting up with Honey, and she’ll flip.”

I can’t argue with her, so I just let myself sigh, and try out two fake smiles before I manage my genuine one. Mom makes her way to the front slowly, checking to make sure that all the shelves are arranged as they should be as if she doesn’t know that Cocoa JUST finished reviewing them.

“Everything’s in order,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s a question or a declaration. Just nod.

“I know. That’s why the doors are open,” I raise my eyebrows, and I wonder if that sounded a little too snarky.

Mom frowns and I resist the urge to sigh again, feeling Cocoa watching us even though she keeps her head down.

Alright, let’s redirect this conversation before anything gets even more out of hand…

“How is Grandpa doing this week?” I ask chipperly. “Will me and the girls be able to visit him soon? We’ve been dying t-”

“He’s well enough,” Mom shrugs, but she doesn’t answer the second question. “He’d do better if more of your siblings and his own children would pull their weight around the store so he can stop stressing about whether things are being cared for in his absence.”

She still hasn’t answered…

They haven’t put us on the visitors’ list yet, have they?

Too embarrassed to let the hospital staff know that we’re their children.

“You can tell him his store is being well tended to,” I cheese, trying not to let my feelings show in my face, or my voice. 

I blink three times rapidly, then the smile is less sore.

“I’m running things exactly the way he likes them done, and Cocoa is helping me too, so he doesn’t have to worry that I’m being run ragged.”

I can see Cocoa looking up at me out of the corner of my eye with an arch of her eyebrows that’s confused and almost a little wary.

“What are you doing?” She mouths.

“You’re helping out around the shop I can see,” Mom scoffs, “But Cocoa hasn’t done enough to earn any credit. This is the first time I’ve seen you here in the last 6 weeks, young lady, and don’t tell me you’re too busy schooling with all the time you spend gallivanting about the city with your older sister.”

“Cocoa took a larger portion of the chores at home so I wouldn’t be too burned out while I get used to running the store,” I smile tensely, eyebrows raised again. My leg starts bouncing and I use my hand to quell it, subtly I hope.

“I’m practically pampered, honestly. I can’t remember the last time I had to wash my own laundry or clean the bathroom.”

Cocoa’s posture relaxes as she nods slightly, acknowledging that as true, but Mom just rolls her eyes.

“I don’t even understand how you two can call that hole in the wall you stay in a home at all. And I can’t understand why you would prefer living with your brother over staying at home with me and your father, Cocoa. If Dominic wants to go out and live like a bum, that’s his choice, but you haven’t even finished school yet. Why be in such a hurry to be as good as homeless?”

“Our apartment is closer to the university than you and Dad’s place,” Cocoa says in a low voice, recounting the change again and again as if that will change the number. “It’s more convenient that way.”

“Take the bus,” Mom throws her hands up in the air exasperatedly. “There are ways around every issue if you’d stop to use your head for once.”

“Not taking the bus. We’re going greenish,” Cocoa holds her hand out, still not daring to look Mom in the eye. “Do you have ten dimes for a dollar?”

Mom sighs and pulls out her change purse, handing over the dimes in exchange for the dollar.

“More ridiculous fads,” she shakes her head, “‘We’re going greenish. We’re thrifting our clothes instead of buying new ones. We’re offering recyclable bags at the grocery store in the place of plastic bags.’”

“Many people have actually started using them,” I tilt my head, unable to help feeling a little proud about that turnout. “And it saves us money on keeping plastic bags stocked.”

“We’re a CONVENIENCE store,” Mom rebuts. “Making people debate cloth bags or plastic before every purchase takes half the convenience out of the whole process. Where do you even get ideas like these? You’d think one crazy hipster in the family was enough now that your Uncle has adopted all this nonsense from that African girlfriend of his but now you two are doing it too. Before long, we’ll all be lunatics.”

The temptation to say something sarcastic is strong this one…

But I bite my tongue and transform that into a sort of awkward playful grin even as I feel Cocoa’s fury surging behind me in icy waves.

I let out a low, slow breath, as Cocoa comments, almost in a whisper, “Auntie Deedee is from Nicaragua, not Africa.”

“I don’t care where that woman comes from. She should have nothing to do with any of us, but your uncle just decided he didn’t care two cents about anyone but that crow and constantly shows blatant disrespect to your grandfather by bringing her around.”

The heat rises in my face. 

Not that it has anything to do with me. Don’t go starting fights.

Maybe it’s just because of everything that happened last night.

But I can’t just say nothing when Auntie Deedee isn’t even here to defend herself.

Or walk out. Walking out would probably be better, honestly.

But that’s not an option for me right now, so instead I butt in, in my most casual tone, “Grandpa has never made any complaints about Uncle Canh dating Auntie Deedee. I think he likes her being around. He said she makes him laugh.”

“Your grandfather will say anything to keep his children happy,” Mom shakes her head mournfully, “It doesn’t mean he really feels that way.”

Well…

I can’t argue that when I know she’s right.

It’s why he protests so little when Mom and Dad trash Auntie Deedee. Trash me and Honey, and Cocoa. 

When they started calling the girls ‘Honey’ and ‘Cocoa’ in the first place…

He’d rather offer everybody cut fruit, and ask someone to go bring in some roses. Break up the quarrel, or the barrage, and change the subject.

That’s what I should be doing. I promised him…

Cocoa and I should be at home right now watching TV and enjoying our Saturday.

I could bang my head against this wall.

I hear a phone buzz, and check my pocket, only to see that it’s Mom’s phone that’s ringing, not mine. Cocoa looks at me from beneath her bangs and mouths sourly, “Dad,” as Mom puts the phone to her ear.

“Thanh, is the shop open already?” I hear Dad speaking too loudly through the cell, and Mom pulls the phone away from her ear.

“Yes. It opened on schedule, though these kids wanted to drag their feet about it.”

“Well, tell Dominic not to bring in the boxes that we just got delivered. The company brought us the wrong books and they’ve been being finicky about answering my calls. I need him to collect our order form emails and send screenshots to the company of exactly what we ordered. If they don’t reply by 4 p.m. he’ll have to call them so they don’t try to make any excuses about it being after business hours.”

I open my mouth, but then I close it again.

This is fine. Mom and Dad can’t control their being an error with our delivery. Mom didn’t know I didn’t need to bring the boxes in.

It should be alright. As long as business is moderate, it won’t be too much of a juggling act.

I need exercise anyway. I needed exercise. This is perfectly…okay.

But Cocoa’s fury seems to have doubled. 

She looks me full in the face as Mom stares languidly at the floor, chattering away with Dad.

“Just quit,” Cocoa mouths.

“I can’t quit,” I whisper back at her, pulling a face to let her know what a ridiculous suggestion that is.

“My schedule is over packed as it is since Honey hasn’t shown up to take her shift in over a month.”

“I really don’t mind covering for her-,” I start to say, but Dad hears me and interjects.

“Finish what you have on your own plate before you try to cover for anyone else. You’re slow enough at getting the order forms done already-”

Cocoa closes the cash register with a resounding ‘chank’ noise that makes Mom flinch, but before she can tell her to be gentle with it - or say anything - Cocoa asks with forced composure, “I thought Ben promised to take some shifts this week.”

“He’s busy with school,” Mom frowns as if that’s obvious. “It’s weary business.”

“I’m in school,” Cocoa points out, curtly. “And Honey has two other jobs.”

“You’re barely even studying, and your sister-”

My phone ‘accidentally’ buzzes a little too loudly, and I silence it with an apologetic smile.

“My bad. I was trying to set an alarm so I don’t forget to call the shipping company about the books.”

Mom squints at me, unamused.

“Oh, speaking of books though,” keep talking, find something to say, “I just read this new one that’s really awesome. There’s romance, and action, and suspense, a little mystery.”

I make my way behind the counter deftly, nudging Cocoa away from the cash register with my knee as I keep talking.

“It’s about this guy who ends up becoming a part of all the people he touches. So he’s been stuck living in different people's bodies until they die for centuries because he himself is quasi-immortal. I’ve done some research, and it’s pretty popular these days in the speculative fiction community. I bet it would sell well.”

Mom looks at me like I’m daft as the front doorbell chimes.

“Focus on what you’ve been assigned,” is all Dad says.

“Yes, sir.” 

I try to look subdued as I set out the cloth grocery bags on the counter, and Dad hangs up the call, but Mom has barely even put the phone back in her pocket before she starts glancing around in confusion.

“Where did your sister disappear to?” 

I just raise my eyebrows.