LANA MASON
The Fourth of July, for one reason or another, is a sacred holiday for my family and it has nothing to do with the patriotic significance. Never once have we spoken about what the occasion is for, but it's an excuse for all of us to get together, to eat more barbecue than we should, to drink, and to blow shit up on the street. My uncles love to do firecrackers and whatever minor explosions they can get their hands on, much to my dad's discretion. That's the only part of the holiday that he doesn't appreciate.
"So how you doin', Lana?" Aunt Victoria asks. "How are you likin' that nanny job?"
"Mm," I nod, chewing with a mouthful of sausage. "So good. I'm having a great time."
"That's nice," she uses her extra long acrylic nails to pop a piece of watermelon in her mouth, snapping at Angel for screaming too loudly in the backyard. "It's good to be busy, huh? Girls your age these days don't even wanna work. They wanna set up their little cameras and shake their asses around or talk about what coffee they ordered that morning as if anyone gives a shit, hoping they'll make a few bucks."
I almost choke on my beer as I laugh at her passionate spiel about influencers. Maya doesn't shake her ass on TikTok, but you'd best believe you can find her doing a story time or a vlog, which would sometimes include talking about her coffee. Or, as Aunt Victoria says, cawfee.
"Yeah, my generation is really lucky to have the good ones like me," I tease. "The few of us that are actually making a difference in the world."
"You are!" She argues. "You're bein' a good influence on this little girl and that's important. She could have some whacked-out nut job–hey! Don't hit your sister or you're going upstairs for the rest of the night, you hear me?!"
I make eye contact with my mom across our narrow yard, both of us smiling as we watch Cassie roll her eyes at her mother. It's game over as Aunt Victoria jumps out of her lawn chair and goes to give her bum a little spanking. Everyone's laughing as Cassie runs for her life, holding her butt over her shorts to protect it with her hands. Even her mom is laughing as she gives up on the physical punishment. Rarely does she ever actually spank the kids, and when she does, it's more of a tap.
As I take the last bite of my hot dog, my phone vibrates in my back pocket with a text from none other than Harry. He has fifteen minutes before the restaurant opens for dinner service and I'm honored that I'm on his mind during that crucial time.
Harry Styles: Are we still on for tonight?
I glance up from my screen to make sure my dad isn't looking at me before I allow myself to smile. Old habits die hard, I guess.
Me: Yes!
Me: Don't eat beforehand
Me: Dinner is on me
Harry Styles: Can't wait
I "love" the message and tuck my phone back in my pocket, wandering over to the table full of food to grab another handful of buffalo ranch chips when my dad calls out for me. With my plate in hand, I walk over to meet him where he's sitting in a plastic fold-out chair with my mom next to him and my Aunt Jennifer and Uncle Mike across from them.
"What's up?"
"Why are you standing around like you're just waiting to leave?" He stands from his chair. "Sit down or something. Jesus."
"Okay," I chuckle and take his spot while he goes to find himself another chair.
"He was just talking about how much he loves you," Aunt Jennifer says. "You're his pride and joy, you know that?"
