Page 95 of The Starfish Sisters

I nod. “Very. I’m sorry I was weird last night. I just feel nervous about Jasmine.”

He brushes a lock of hair from my face. “I get it. But you’re allowed to have a life, too.”

“Yes.” Impulsively, I lift on my toes and kiss him back. “You can set the table.”

“No!” Jasmine cries from the bottom of the stairs. “That’s my job.”

Ben doesn’t move away as fast as I hope, and I slide around him, feeling embarrassed. Even more so when Jasmine says, “Did you guys kiss?”

“Yes,” Ben pipes up. “Is that okay with you?”

“I don’t care.”

I finally notice that her fists are clenched and disengage from Ben. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Did you know that we’re going to be in England atChristmastime?” Her entire body is taut with emotion. “Christmas!Did you know?”

I squat so I’m closer to her level, and take her hand. “I figured you would be. It’s fall now. Christmas isn’t that far away.”

“How can I have Christmas there? Huh?”

“Honey! Maybe it will be special. I’ll come and help celebrate. How’s that?”

“It’s not that. Where will we put our Christmas tree? And we won’t have Maui trying to eat the presents and I won’t have any friends and it’s going to be awful!” She bursts into tears and falls into my arms, sobbing with the heartbreak only a child can truly express.

I hug her, remembering how it felt when my parents didn’t listen to me over their divorce and not even Amma had much to say because she was so busy taking care of Suze.

Whoa. Where did that come from?I think.

But Jasmine is what matters right now. I hold her tight, smelling her hair. “It’s scary.”

“Yes. And awful. And it makes me feel so, so, so lonely.”

“I know.” I stroke her hair. “Go ahead and let it out.”

She simply leans into my embrace and sobs. Sobs and sobs and sobs. Behind me, I hear Ben doing something in the kitchen, but I keep my focus on Jasmine. After a while, she raises her head. I brush tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “I wish I could make your life perfect,” I say. “But I don’t have that power. I can tell you that things work out.”

She bows her head.

“Do you want some lunch?” I ask. “I made you a grilled cheese.”

Her voice is small. Tragic. “Yes.”

“I’ve got it ready right here,” Ben says. “But I’m gonna need you to set the table.”

“Okay.” She wipes her face, then goes to the drawer and gets out napkins and place mats and carries them over, where she places them with exactness.

Ben has finished the tuna salad, and made sandwiches with lettuce and tomato and a little pile of chips on each plate. He’s not waiting for applause or acknowledgment, just picks up a couple of plates and takes them to the table.

I pick up the glasses of water and follow him. When we’ve all settled, Jasmine says, “So, if you get married, will I have to call you Grandpa or can I still call you Ben?”

“Married!” I cry. My cheeks flame.

“Well, if that ever comes about,” he says, winking at me, “you can keep calling me Ben.”

She swings her feet under her chair. “Good. It would be different if you were already around when I was born, but it would be strange to get used to calling somebody new Grandpa at this stage.”

I’m embarrassed and my laugh bursts out too loudly. “Because you are so old.”