Page 43 of Call You Mine
“Maybe after we eat? You must be hungry.” Ava worked a full shift while Georgie was at school, then picked her up and ran a few errands before coming straight here. I can’t imagine she had much time to get a full meal in.
Dinner also gives Georgie an opportunity to start getting more comfortable both with me and the house she is technically supposed to be living in soon.
Another detail we have to go over tonight.
As Georgie sits, she places her elbow on the table and balances her chin in her palm. “Are those vinyls?" she asks, nodding toward the corner of my living room where my record player sits on a shelf filled to the brim.
“They are,” I say with a smile. Starting when I was twelve, I remember saving up every dollar from lawnmowing and shoveling just so I could spend it at the record store. “I started collecting them when I was about your age.”
“Cool,” Georgie says in that bored way teenagers do, but her eyes stay glued to the shelf.
I use it as my in.
“I used to spend hours walking the aisles of the record store in my hometown, going through the crates, and wishing I had enough time to look at each one.” The memories flood me all at once, something I haven’t thought about in years.
My dad would always be so patient with me while I scoured through the collection, never rushing me. And then, he would match my excitement about whichever one I ended up buying, listening to it with me from front to back the moment we got home.
I’ve always loved how every album has its own story—still do—and I love how now, each one I brought home became like a timestamp of that time of my life.
Music became something that belonged to me, and only me. I didn’t have to share with my brothers. They could have all my time and energy, but music? That was mine.
Mine and my dad’s.
“I’ve never been to a record store.” Georgie’s voice is quiet, like she’s talking to herself.
“Maybe we could go sometime. There’s a new one downtown I’ve been meaning to stop by,” I offer, hoping it doesn’t sound like I’m trying too hard, but I don’t want to miss this opportunity.
Ava finally tears her gaze from my sink to look between her sister and me, and I notice the rigidness in her body lessens as she glances between us and the vinyls.
Georgie turns to me, and you would think I just offered her the world on a silver platter. “I’d like that,” she says, her hazel eyes shining, so similar to Ava’s.
And just like Ava’s, I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t do to keep those eyes bright.
I start plating two servings of pasta, placing a piece of garlic bread on each one, when I notice out of the corner of my eye Ava leaning toward Georgie from where she sits next to her. Cupping her hands around Georgie’s ear, I pretend not to notice the two of them as I grab them each a fork.
“I’m sure he’ll let you look at them if you ask,” Ava whispers.
“Ava!” Georgie swats her older sister’s shoulder. “Stop,” she says, but she makes the one-syllable word sound like it has two while also adding an “uh” sound after the “p”.
“I’m just saying,” Ava says, holding her hands up in surrender. Her eyes skate to me, and she widens them before she darts them to Georgie and back at me.
“Do you want to look at them?” I ask Georgie, getting Ava’s hint.
Georgie’s eyes light up when she looks at me. “Can I?”
“Of course.” I set the two plates of food down, one in front of Ava and one in front of Georgie. “But food first.”
Georgie rolls her eyes. “No fun, just like my sister,” she mutters, but there’s a smile on her face as she takes the fork I hold out to her and shovels a huge bite of pasta into her mouth. I hold out a fork to Ava, who doesn't say anything as she takes it—instead, twirling the noodles and bringing her own bite to her mouth.
And for some reason, warmth blooms in my chest, that feeling of impending doom dissipating for the first time all day.
Because it feels like I just did something right.
CHAPTER 13
AVA
Georgie hasall of Anderson’s vinyls scattered over his living room floor within minutes of her clearing her plate and putting it in the sink.
