Bullets and Wines

Olivia Bennett

"Hurry up, Mom. If we don't close the store soon, we won't make it home in time to get ready for Mike's graduation," I called out.

"Calm down, honey, I'm coming," my mom, Clarissa, replied. "I just finished the sales report."

"I don't know why Grandma always asks for these reports," I muttered. "It's like she doesn't even trust Dad, and he's her own son."

"Oh, sweetie, your grandmother has always been strict like this. She likes everything her way, but deep down, she loves us."

"Yeah. Really deep down."

My grandmother had been the matriarch of the family ever since my grandfather passed away a few years ago. She ran the convenience store with an iron fist, while my dad worked as the manager. My mom and I filled in the gaps—working as cashiers, cleaners, stockers, and whatever else needed to be done.

Of course, I didn't want to spend my life there. I wanted to go to college, travel, and see other places. But my parents expected me to stay at the store with my brother and eventually take over the business when they retired.

I was always the good, obedient girl, so I ended up shoving my dreams and plans in a drawer to follow their wishes. My brother, on the other hand, was the rebel of the family. He put his foot down and imposed his will until everyone just had to accept it. In the fall, Mike was leaving for college; he'd scored a scholarship to Princeton.

I had to admit, I was jealous of his courage. I should have stood up to my parents and my grandmother to fulfill my dream of studying architecture. The truth was, I had been accepted into four different colleges after secretly applying last year when I graduated, but I never told a soul. Only Mike knew about it, and that was only because he'd found my acceptance letters hidden at the back of a drawer in my room.

He'd been furious with me. He told me I couldn't just cave to our parents' wishes and that I had to chase my dreams. But I was a coward, and now I was doomed to spend my life here in the middle of nowhere.

We made it home just in time and rushed upstairs to get ready. After a quick shower, I dug through my wardrobe and pulled out my only formal dress—the same one I'd worn to my own graduation last year. It was red and form-fitting, though not overly revealing. I hated drawing attention to myself; I was actually very shy. I slipped on my usual black mid-heel sandals, pulled my hair into a simple ponytail, and swiped on some nude lipstick.

That was it. I headed downstairs to find Dad and Mike already dressed and waiting for us.

"I'm ready," I announced.

"Yeah, we noticed," Mike teased. "You've already got your frumpy uniform on."

"Wow. That would have hurt if I actually cared about your opinion," I replied grudgingly.

"Mike, don't talk to your sister like that," Dad scolded.

"I don't mean any harm," Mike said, holding his hands up. "It's just that I've never seen someone so pretty try so hard to look ugly."

"I didn't," I shot back.

"You actually did," Mom chimed in as she came down the stairs. "I have to agree with your brother on this one, sweetie."

"Can we stop talking about my looks?" I groaned. "I'm fine like this. Let's just go already, we're late."

"Yes, let's go. It's getting late," Dad agreed.

He headed out the door with Mom. I was about to follow them when Mike caught my arm, pulling me back.

"I'm serious, sis," Mike said softly. "You have to stop putting yourself last just to please others. I know you dress like this because you don't want to draw more attention than your friend Katy. She loves being the most popular, and you just want to see your friend happy. But how long are you going to keep giving up on your dreams and hiding who you are just to please other people? You only live once, and life is meant to be lived intensely. Don't forget that."

"Wow, Mike," I deflected with a small smile. "When did my little brother mature so much?"

"Oh, don't give me that. I'm only a year younger. I'm eighteen, and you just turned nineteen."

"Let's go, kids, it's getting late!" Dad called from outside.

We walked out, laughing at each other's jokes, and piled into the car where Mom and Dad were already waiting. Despite our constant sibling bickering, Mike and I were incredibly close. He told me everything about his life, and I told him everything about mine—not that I had much to report.