January, 1986
"Alive and kicking…" Lindsay sang along with the radio as she drove home from school. "Stay until your love is…"
"Can you please stop?" Michael groaned. She laughed.
"Fine," she said. It had been a month since she'd decided to get the surgery, and it was scheduled for next week. She still hadn't told Michael. She knew she would have to eventually and that the longer she waited the worse it would be, but she couldn't stop putting it off.
"Guess what?" she said.
"What?"
"I'm going to senior prom. With Andrew, 'cause he's a senior."
"That's great," Michael said sarcastically.
"Yeah, it is," she said, ignoring his sarcasm.
"You know, I really don't like Andrew."
Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. You've made that pretty clear."
"No, really. He's…he's been saying stuff about you, you know."
"Saying stuff? Like what?"
Michael hesitated. "He's been saying that you two have been sleeping together," he said, clearly embarrassed.
"He has?" Lindsay said, surprised.
"Yeah, so break up with him!"
Lindsay blushed. "I don't mind if he tells people that," she said as she pulled into the driveway and stopped the car.
"You don't mind?" Michael repeated. "Well, you should, he's your boyfriend, he shouldn't be making up rumors about you."
"Well, he's not making it up…"
Michael looked over at her. "What?" he said. Lindsay laughed shyly. "Since when?"
"Just last week," she said excitedly.
"Oh," Michael said. "I didn't know you'd… Well, okay." He seemed very disturbed by this news. "Don't you think it's a little soon?"
"Not really. We've been dating for almost a year."
"Yeah, I guess," Michael said, though he seemed to disagree. They got out of the car and walked through the gate into the backyard and in through the kitchen door.
"Wait, isn't he eighteen?" he said suddenly.
"Yeah. So?"
"So you're seventeen. That's illegal, isn't it?"
"Oh my god, Michael, he's one year older than me."
"Just barely! It's more like two years, you only turned seventeen last month."
"What are you gonna do, call the cops?"
"No, I just—whatever, do whatever you want, I guess."
They opened the door and stepped into the house. Lindsay got a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table. Michael sat down, too. He still looked pretty upset. She wondered, not for the first time, if he had something of a crush on her. Sometimes it seemed like he did, from the way he looked at her, how he was always telling her how pretty she was, and his inexplicable dislike of every boyfriend she'd had. It wouldn't be the first time someone in their family had been attracted to someone else in their family. She didn't mind if he was. It wasn't creepy or anything since she doubted he was even aware of it, and it was very flattering.
Lucille and Buster came into the room, wearing matching sailor costumes.
"We're going to the Balboa Bay Window photo shoot, so we'll be gone for the next few hours," she said. "Rosa will make you something for dinner."
"As usual," Lindsay said under her breath. "You know, not that I'd want to, but why do you only do those creepy photo shoot things with Buster?" Buster smiled smugly. "You do have three other kids, you know."
"Oh, please, with that nose?" Lucille said over her shoulder as she fixed Buster's jacket. "Thank god we're taking care of that next week."
Lindsay froze.
"What do you mean, 'taking care of that?'" Michael said.
"The plastic surgery, of course," Lucille said, bending down to put on her shoes.
"She's not doing that, we already told you," Michael said angrily. Lucille stood up and looked at him, then at Lindsay, eyebrows raised.
"Um, I actually changed my mind about that," Lindsay said quietly, not meeting his eyes.
"What?" he said.
"Well, I'll let you two discuss this," Lucille said, opening the door. Lindsay hated the look of amusement on her face. "Come on, Buster."
Buster followed Lucille out the door.
"What do you mean, you changed your mind?" Michael said when they were gone.
"There's no need to make a big deal about it," Lindsay mumbled.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know, I just—I don't know," she said helplessly.
"You can't let her get to you like this," he said. "You look fine, really."
"I'm not letting her get to me, I want to do this. It's not a big deal, lots of people do it."
"You're only seventeen! Just think about this."
"I have thought about it, a lot, okay?" she snapped. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." She got up and stormed out of the kitchen.
"Wait, Lindsay," Michael called after her, but she ignored him and hurried up the stairs, tears blurring her vision.
