Riptides (Lengths) by Steph Campbell, Liz Reinhardt

telling you…everything. It’s so important. And I really should have told you sooner. I feel so stupid for not telling you sooner.”
    I gather her into my arms and kiss her softly. “No rush, doll. We have all the time in the world. Whatever you need. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, Jess.”
    She deepens the kiss, then rips her mouth away and flees out of my apartment like she’s got the devil at her heels. I sip my coffee in my silent kitchen as the echo of the slamming front door reverberates through me, unable to shrug off this persistent doubt that twists low and hard in my gut.
    I can’t put my finger on what it is or is about, so I finally just stop trying.
    ***
    My mother has called a mandatory Rodriguez family meeting. I’ve got a few hours to kill while Jess is at the bakery, so I head over. At the very least my family is good lowbrow side entertainment: like a poorly funded, semi-pathetic travelling circus. Mom’s pretending her little meeting has something to do with the wedding and what we all have to do to pull it off without a hitch. I think the real reason is because she’s going into nervous breakdown mode over Cohen getting married and “leaving” her and my father for good.
    Lydia was supposed to get the stellar career and become a respected pillar of the community.
    Cece was going to bury her nose in books forever and will probably still be racking up degrees when our grandkids were ready for college.
    I think my parents expect me to join a rodeo or start dealing blackjack at a seedy casino…something unreliable with a tang of shamefulness.
    Genie was always our wildcard: the fact that she got married to an immigrant to help him secure a green card and then fell madly in love with him doesn’t surprise me at all. Just like it wouldn’t have surprised me if she chose a different ridiculous movie plot to base her life around: falling for a guy she heard on some crazy radio dating show and met up with on the top of the Empire State Building, saving some guy from getting run over by a train and then pretending to be his fiancée while he wallowed in a coma, or maybe celebrating her first awesome promotion by having unprotected sex with a loser nerd she decided to stick with once she had their baby.
    The bottom line is, Genie was going to shock us all, no questions.
    But Cohen? It’s always been my brother whose shoulders were piled high with all the ancestral Rodriguez stress.
    Dad had been taking him to work since he could toddle, no matter what other cool shit was going on in the neighborhood. Cohen missed many a sweet swell or a long, pointless summer bike ride so he could help unload side tables or inventory massive, dusty rolls of rugs.
    I, on the other hand, just had to adjust my whine to a high enough pitch to send a shiver up and down my father’s spine. My whining worked like an epic symphony of nails on a chalkboard, and my father would yank Cohen out the door by the arm, telling my mother I was perezoso .
    Since laziness is still the cardinal sin in the Rodriguez household, that word was more chilling than a whole string of crazy Spanglish expletives.
    Long hours of doing whatever the hell I wanted without my father double-checking tally-marks over my shoulder or forcing me to unload delivery trucks in the stifling furniture store warehouse gave me a decent reason to grow a tough skin. I let his remarks roll off my back, and the only thing I regret is that Cohen still bears the brunt of the family’s wacked out expectations.
    “It’s just that you and Maren got the LA store in working order. I know your new firm appreciates having the Rodriguez accounts. That was no small thing, Cohen. No small feat. Why would you give up now, right at the height of your game?” He bangs his soup spoon on the table like a gavel.
    Mom frowns and clucks her tongue at him as she puts wine glasses out and hurries back to the kitchen. Lydia sighs.
    “Papi,