“Right?” She munches on another chip before continuing, “Anyway, I thought I was used to their overbearing version of love. My whole life, they’ve done their best to be good brothers. But I feel like the fact that there’re so many of them tips their helpful acts into bonkers town.”

My body shifts forward in anticipation.

“Like, there was one day, before school, I realized I was out of tampons. And I needed them, obviously. But my parents were already at work. Plus, I was thirteen. So, I couldn’t drive myself to the store.”

The noises of Main Street fade away as Zoey’s voice pulls me into the story of her past.

“Abram is the most responsible. I feel like he was born to be a dad. Or a drill sergeant. Maybe both. Anyway, I figured at eighteen, he’d be the one least likely to laugh.” She shrugs and eats another chip, drawing out the drama of the tale. “I was right. He told me to finish my breakfast and that he’d take care of it. But next thing I know, I’m alone in the house.” She waves her hands as if we were sitting in her kitchen, empty, silent house around us. “All four of my brothers disappeared. The bus was going to show up in, like, ten minutes, and I was sure I’d have to stay home sick.”

My lips pinch in a grimace, as I don’t find the story amusing anymore. Did all of Zoey’s brothers really abandon her just because they were squeamish about buying feminine products?

“Then, I hear the screech of tires on the driveway, and when I look out the window, I spot all four of the Gunner boys climbing out of Abram’s car, each one weighed down with shopping bags.”

Humor returns fast.

“Now, I know guys can be clueless about menstruation. If Abram had come back with a few extra boxes or the wrong brand, no big deal. But no. He recruited the rest of my brothers, and they drove to the closest drugstore and bought as many products as they could carry.”

“They didn’t,” I whisper in horrified wonder.

“They did. An entire aisle. You would’ve thought I was hemorrhaging. Good thing tampons don’t expire.” Zoey shakes her head, but I catch the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

That’s the way it tends to be with loving families. In the moment, you want to murder them, but later, everything just becomes a funny memory.

“And that happens a lot with them?”