The Jasmine Project

by Meredith Ireland

  Mom and Dad sit at the heads of the table. Cari and Davey are across from me. I put my napkin on my lap and start passing the dishes around. My family looks confused, but they fill their plates.

  “I… this looks great, Jazzy,” Dad says.

  “It really does, honey,” Mom says. They exchange glances, and someone kicks Davey under the table.

  “Yeah, smells good. When can we eat?” he says.

  Cari full-body sighs at him. “Thanks for making dinner, Jaz.”

  But they’re all waiting for me. Even Davey, who seriously doesn’t want to.

  “I know you all want to talk about what happened,” I say. “So let me say this: You crossed every line as if personal boundaries don’t exist. You lied to me and orchestrated a whole competition instead of just talking to me.” I look at my sister. She stares down at her plate. “You treated me like I’m an extension of you and not my own person.” I pause and glance at my mom and dad. “You bet on me like I was a pro sports game.” I raise an eyebrow at Davey, who has the decency to look away. “And you did it all for me.”

  All four faces look up at me.

  “Well, maybe not the betting, but you wanted me to understand what I’m worth. I’m not going to lie: there were better ways to do it than to set up an elaborate fake reality show. Couldn’t you see it would make me think boys would only like me for the novelty of it? There were also better ways to get me away from Paul than to throw three guys into my world. But I get it. You were trying to help.”

  “We… we just wanted you to realize how great you are,” Mom says. “I’m sorry. We’re all sorry it got so out of hand.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken bets,” Davey says. “That was messed up.”

  “We should’ve had more respect for you and trusted in you more,” Dad says.

  I look at Cari. She has tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry for all of it,” she whispers. “The podcast, the reality show, everything.”

  “It was humiliating,” I say. “You could’ve just talked to me. Especially you.”

  “I know,” Cari says as her tears fall.

  “But you put a ton of work into creating the competition, really searched to find guys who’d be the perfect fit for me. And you didn’t do it for the fame. Because you already had that. You did it because you love me—and you got carried away, but it was out of love first.”

  Cari sniffles and nods.

  “Can you forgive us?” Dad asks. “We love you, Jazzy. This thing was done out of very foolish love. The whole family loves you and just wanted to see you be happy.”

  “Are you going to start recognizing boundaries?” I ask, sticking a fork in my salad.

  “We will,” Mom says. “I swear it.”

  “Then yes,” I say.

  Everyone physically relaxes, lowering their shoulders. They pick up their utensils and start twirling their pasta or cutting into the rice balls.

  “There’s something else, though,” I say.

  Everyone freezes like we’re playing red light green light.

  “What’s that, Jaz?” Cari asks.

  “I’ve decided I’m not going to live with Paul,” I say. “We ended things today.”

  My parents exchange glances of restrained glee.

  “Oh, that’s… good,” Mom says.

  “And I’m not going to go to Valencia,” I say.

  The look my parents exchange this time is less gleeful.

  “Oh,” Dad says.

  “What?” Mom asks.

  “Not this fall, anyhow,” I say. “I’ve deferred admission a year. I sent the emails today.”

  “What… what do you want to do, then?” Mom asks.

  I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

  “This,” I say, gesturing to the table. “I want to cook, professionally. I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve been afraid to try. I’ve been afraid because of what happened to Aunt Jay. Because of how our family lost money. Because of how your relationship changed with Jay. Because of how hard you and Dad had to work since you took out the loan to invest in her restaurant. Because I didn’t know the whole story. Because I was afraid I didn’t have what it takes. Because I’ve been afraid my whole life, of everything, really.”

  They are so silent, I can hear cicadas chirping outside. I might as well get the whole thing out there.

  “Instead of going to college in the fall, I want to take a gap year. I want to go to Paris and work in a kitchen,” I say. “I want to see if I can make it as a cook. And then if I can, I’ll come back and go to culinary school.”

  And then it’s out there. All of it. No more secrets or lies. Well, almost. I take another deep breath.

  “When Jay had Ventura’s Bistro, I used to go after school,” I say. “I learned to prep and cook with her, and it was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  “I—” Mom begins.

  “I can see it,” Davey says through a mouthful of food. “You’re really good.”

  I shouldn’t be relieved, because I’ve made up my mind, but it’s nice to have someone’s instant support.

  “It’s what I love to do,” I say.

  Mom blinks a couple of times. “You don’t want to be a nurse anymore?” she says.

  And it hurts. It stings to disappoint her, and I wonder if things will be as strained between us as they became with Jay. Still, I slowly shake my head. “No. I don’t.”

  I hold my breath and wait for her to respond.

  “Well, good,” she says.

  It’s my turn to be surprised. I widen my eyes and stare at her. “ ‘Good’?”

  “You have problems with the sight of blood, Jaz,” Mom says. “Remember a few years ago when Davey needed stitches after playing basketball? You went white as a sheet. I was never sure nursing would be right for you, but you seemed so determined.”

  I can’t believe this. “You’re not upset?” I ask.

  “I’m a little upset that Jay was teaching you behind my back, but I’m hardly surprised.” Mom sighs in the long-suffering way of an oldest child dealing with the youngest. Cari sighs at Davey in the exact same manner.

  “I mean, that I don’t want to be a nurse,” I say.

  Mom pauses and Dad talks instead.

  “We want you to be happy,” he says. “I’m shocked you want to go all the way to Paris. It is far. But if it’s your dream, I support it. As you said: it’s your life. All we’ve ever wanted is for the three of you to find yourselves and be happy.”

  Mom opens her mouth but just exhales and nods.

  It’s hard to believe these words are coming out of my parents. I thought they’d be so disappointed, so opposed. But it was just my own fear standing in my way this whole time.

  “And these rice balls are amazing,” Mom says, pointing with her fork.

  Happiness bursts through me.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me the story about Aunt Jay’s restaurant?” I say.

  “Ventura’s?” Mom wipes her mouth and frowns. “It was really complicated, and you were only fourteen or so when everything fell apart. The money was one thing, but Jay was so hurt. She was humiliated by loving and trusting someone who betrayed her. Rick wasn’t just her business partner—he was her boyfriend. She… we all thought they’d get married. But it was a ruse. He embezzled all that money, and now he lives in Venezuela with his wife.”

  “Argentina,” Dad says.

  “Somewhere that doesn’t extradite. I forget. It was such a bad situation that it became something we didn’t mention—we didn’t want to hurt her more. But I had no idea it affected you. Or that you’d been working there.” Mom stops and raises her eyebrow.

  “Regardless, it’s our job to worry about loans and payments—not yours,” Dad says. “And if we had to do it all over again, we still would’ve supported your aunt. It’s what family does.”

  “And, honey, Jay is okay,” Mom says. “She got a lot of business from you appearing on the news. The local story was picked
up nationally.”

  “It was?” I ask.

  Cari nods. “She got a ton of Instagram follows and business inquiries from it—good job dropping the IG.”

  “That’s great,” I say. “But you’re really okay with me going to France, with not being a nurse, Mom?”

  Mom purses her lips. “It’ll be hard—to have you that far away. But it’ll only be for a year, and we can FaceTime. And when you’d said nursing, maybe I latched on to it too hard. But nursing is the last thing someone should do if they don’t really want to.”

  “If it’s your dream, Jazzy, go to Paris,” Dad says.

  Mom nods. And we’re all silent for a second.

  “We’ll have to find you a place,” Cari says. “One with an extra bed, because I’m definitely going to crash with you during winter break.”

  “We can all fly over for winter break,” Dad says.

  Mom smiles.

  Their reaction is more than I ever could’ve hoped for—to not only have their support but to know I’ll see them in a few months.

  “But you don’t have the money for that,” I say.

  “Oh, you control our finances all of a sudden?” Mom says. She raises her eyebrow—the scary one. “There’s overtime. There’s savings. And Jay has started to pay us back. I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

  She smiles gently, and I feel a glow radiating from my core.

  We dig into our dinner and it’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had, because I have my family with me.

  After dinner, Davey goes back to whatever warfare game he’s into now, and Mom and Dad retreat inside, probably to tell the rest of the family what’s happened and figure out how they’ll stay in constant contact with me while I’m in France. It still feels surreal, but there are two more things I need to do.

  Cari is washing dishes at the sink. I pick up a dish towel and start drying.

  “I can get those later,” she says. “You cooked.”

  “I know, but I want to talk to you.”

  She glances over at me, her worry line appearing.

  “I texted Justin Michael,” I say. “He apologized again about the contest, and we’re going to stay friends.”

  “That’s good. That’s really good, Jaz. I’m glad you decided to forgive him.”

  “Just wanted to give you an update for your next podcast,” I say. I wipe a plate until it shines.

  Her chin drops toward her chest. “Jaz, I…”

  “I get it. You wanted something that was yours. And you love love.”

  “I did. I do,” she says.

  I put a plate to the side. “So, when are you actually going to experience it for yourself?” I say.

  “What?” She turns and stares at me.

  I lean against the counter. “You keep watching people fall in love. What about experiencing it for yourself?”

  “I don’t know, Jaz. It never… it wasn’t a priority for me, I guess. I wanted to build my brands. I love my family and it… it’s enough.”

  “It isn’t, though, is it?” I say.

  “I… It is.” She frowns and picks up another plate to wash.

  “Huh. Well, I texted Aaron back today too. He said he was sorry for lying to me, and I accepted his apology. He told me he really is into me and we’re going to start dating for real now.”

  Cari drops the plate into the water. “What?”

  I laugh. Okay, maybe it was a mean lie, but she’s owed one and I got the reaction I was looking for.

  “You should see your face right now,” I say. “You like him and that’s okay. We’re not dating. We never were. But you two should.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t… no. It was for you… we… no.”

  “He did this whole thing to get to know you,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “No… he wouldn’t… he…”

  “Yeah, he did,” I say. “We even talked about it earlier today while I was grocery shopping. He fell for you the minute you had coffee together, but you were so excited about the contest that he felt like he had to go along with it. He likes me—but as a little sister. Nothing more.”

  “He… did? He said that?” she asks.

  “Yes. I don’t think I’d lie about something that flattering. But you two are perfect together.” I lean against the counter and fold my arms. “How about it? Both of us on our big adventures this year?”

  “I… Jaz, I don’t know.”

  I get her hesitation. We’re more alike than it seems on the surface. She’s confident and beautiful, but she has even less experience than I do when it comes to relationships. And taking any kind of chance is scary, but especially when your heart is at stake. It’s easier to watch from the sidelines and never get in on the action. But that’s not really living.

  “You should think about it,” I say. “It would be a great spin for your podcast. And a great thing for your life.”

  I open my arms and she opens hers and we hug in the kitchen.

  “You are so very special,” she says.

  And the weird thing is: I know it. I’m not her little sidekick. I’m not her shadow. I’m her sister. And maybe the over-the-top bachelorette competition did help me see that I have my own value. It’s different from hers, but not less.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “I love you, too.”

  We go back to cleaning up. Just as we finish the dishes, the doorbell rings. She moves to answer it but I stop her.

  “I’ll get it,” I say. “It’s Aunt Jay.”

  Cari raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t know what happened, but she knows that things changed with Jay years ago.

  I open the door and let Jay in. I’d texted her at the end of dinner asking her to come by.

  “Hey,” she says. She hesitates in the doorway, but she’s carrying a box. “I brought some brownies for dessert.”

  Jay was, of course, the person who taught me how to make them.

  “Come in,” I say.

  Jay takes her shoes off and sets the box on the table. We stand on opposite sides of the dining room. Cari lingers by the entrance to the kitchen. We both look over at her.

  “I was just… going. Yeah, I was going,” Cari says.

  With Cari’s first less-than-graceful exit, my aunt and I are left alone. We stand in uncomfortable silence until Jay clears her throat.

  “Thank you again for mentioning the catering company at the pop-up,” Jay says.

  “You’re welcome again,” I say. “Can I ask you something?”

  Her eyes meet mine, and she moves a chair closer and sits down. “Shoot.”

  I pull out a chair and aim it across from her like it’s an interview. “Why did you ask me to cook with you at the pop-up?”

  She wrinkles her brow. “It’s like I said: you know how.”

  “But you said I wasn’t good enough,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said I wasn’t good enough to become a chef,” I say.

  Jay shakes her head again. “I never said that. I would never say that.”

  “You did. When I was fourteen, we were in your office and you said I didn’t have what it takes. It was the last time I was in your restaurant.”

  Jay’s face falls. She puts her head in her hands, then rubs her nose and draws a long breath. “I don’t remember saying that to you, Jaz. I swear. I love you. I’ve always loved you and I would never want to hurt you. Is that why you didn’t talk to me after?”

  I nod.

  She gives me a rueful smile. “I’d always thought you avoided me because you were disappointed in me. Because I couldn’t live up to your expectations. I barely remember seeing you in the office that day, but I do remember telling you to go home. But that day—the one where you came in—I’d found out that all the accounts I’d figured Rick was paying were left unpaid for months. He’d been stealing from the restaurant, from me, for such a long time. And he’d had his fill, I guess. He made
his escape plan to go back to his wife in Argentina and left me so in debt, I couldn’t run the restaurant anymore. He’d written me a goodbye letter and after I read it, I decided to drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine.”

  My aunt looks pained by the memory and winces.

  “I only just found out about Rick today,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “I should’ve told you. It’s my fault, Jaz.”

  Her blue eyes are tear filled, and I hate that it took us so long to finally talk, but family secrets have a way of staying buried even when the hurt shows.

  I reach out and take her hand. A small smile lights Jay’s face.

  “When Eugene told me you still wanted to be a chef, I knew you hadn’t given up,” she says. “That’s the full reason I asked you to cook with me.”

  I frown at his name and how they’d been talking about me. But it makes sense why he thought I wanted to be a chef and why he kept pushing me on it.

  “I’m going to try it,” I say. “I talked to my parents tonight about going to Paris to become a chef.”

  Jay brightens and squeezes my hand. “Oh, Jaz! You’ll do it! I know you will. And I’ll help however I can.”

  She pulls me into a hug and I lean into my aunt. I duck my head and hear her heart beat. The same way I did in eighth grade after I told her what had happened with Kyle. And it’s still so comforting.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you,” I say.

  Jay pulls back and strokes my cheek. “I know you are. Thank you, Jaz.”

  She gives me another hug, and we’re still hugging when Mom walks in. I freeze, ready for them to go at it.

  “Everything okay?” Mom asks.

  Jay and I both nod.

  “We’re great, Mom,” I say.

  “Good, because I need to talk to you,” Mom says.

  She raises her eyebrow, the scary one, at Jay. Jay widens her eyes but laughs. Then Mom smiles. What the hell is this?

  “Wait, what?” I say.

  They both stare over at me, identical blue eyes unblinking.

  “I thought… I thought things between you were… I don’t know,” I say. “After the restaurant closed, it seemed like things changed.”

  They look at each other and shrug.

  “I guess things have been a little more contentious, but it seems no different to me,” Jay says.