Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

vision. “When did you get a fiancée?” she asked in a near
whisper. She knew it wasn’t the most polite phrasing.
Her father laughed. “April twenty-fourth, to be
exact,” he said. “I moved in mid-May.”
“And you’re getting married?” She knew that was an
incredibly stupid thing to say.
“In August,” he said. “The nineteenth.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Quite amazing, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Amazing,” she echoed faintly, though her tone wasn’t
the same as his.
Lydia took one of her hands. Carmen felt as though
it no longer belonged to her body. “Carmen, we are so
thrilled to have you this summer. Why don’t you come
inside and relax? Would you like a soda or a cup of
tea? Albert will show you your room so you can get
settled.”
Albert? Who ever called her father Albert? And what
was all this about getting settled? What was she doing in
this house? This wasn’t where she was spending her
summer.
“Carmen?” her dad said. “Soda? Tea?”
Carmen just turned to him, wide-eyed, not quite hearing.
She nodded.
“Which? Both?” her dad pressed.
She looked around the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances
like rich people had. There was an oriental carpet
on the floor. Who had an oriental carpet in their kitchen?
There was an old-fashioned southern-style fan overhead.
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