30. Thirty
Thirty
Lennon
T he gurgling of the coffee pot echoes through the darkened kitchen, the clock reading five a.m. Despite the quiet, my mind continues to be so fucking loud.
Leaving to collect my thoughts earlier, walking around the neighborhood like a petulant teenager happened to be the wrong choice. Especially when I’d gotten back to the house to find that Noah had taken his bags and left.
The pain cut deeply, a wound that simply wouldn’t stop bleeding no matter how much I tossed and turned.
Finally giving up to go to the kitchen, I’d never been more thankful to be a part of a family that sleeps in every chance they get. Which might be the only thing about my family I’m thankful for.
I can’t blame them completely, though.
Somehow, I knew the rumors surrounding Noah hurt him. It’s not like he hadn’t told me what he wanted when Alexis cheated on him. He’s been told repeatedly that he’s no good at relationships, and this surface-level attraction is all that he could be worthy of. And even then, I exploited that weakness in a careless reaction to my father’s cruelty.
I went for the jugular.
Noah was just the collateral damage.
The machine beeps, and I pad over to the refrigerator. Opening the door, I pull out the toffee nut creamer, find an appropriately fall-themed mug, and craft the saddest cup of coffee I’ve ever had the privilege of drinking.
I sit by the kitchen island to enjoy it.
“I told him off.”
I spin on the stool, my sister standing in the entryway. The braid hanging over one shoulder looks less put together than the image of my sister that usually lingers somewhere in my memories. Her glasses sit high on her nose, eyes tired as she shifts to lean against the wall.
“Who?” I ask though I think I already know. I bring the steaming cup of coffee to my lips and sip the sugary concoction slowly. The mug provides a barrier of sorts–some distance to protect what’s left of my dignity.
“Dad.” Lorelei pushes off the wall, striding toward the cabinet to procure a mug. Less festive and woefully bitter as she neglects cream, sugar, and all that might make her hot bean water taste anything but burnt and disgusting.
“You’re welcome for the coffee.” I wince, the words sounding as bitter as her drink.
“Don’t change the subject.” Lorelei inhales deeply, gripping the hot mug in her hand.
I expected my sister to wear some silky matching pajama set. It’s not that I didn’t live with her growing up, but as she’s matured to adulthood, her presence has become more and more absent. The ten-year age gap felt like a chasm between us, keeping a vast distance between who she is and the image I’ve crafted of her in my head. It’s strange to see her sipping coffee in an oversized t-shirt and leggings. The holes in the shirt really sell the whole thing.
I wince again. “I wasn’t trying to change the–”
“Yes.” She cuts me off. “Yes, Lennon. You were. You’ve never been very good at heart-to-hearts, so I get it. Our family is not the most welcoming place for hopes and dreams and emotions and shit. But you were absolutely changing the subject.”
I clear my throat, taking another sip, if only to distract from the uncomfortable sloshing in my stomach. Lorelei has never spoken to me like this. Our relationship is friendly but cold–surface level. It feels like a professional relationship you keep with someone you barely know at the office. It’s not this.
“What did you say?” I ask, my voice low.
The clock from the dining room ticks in the distance, filling the space between our words.
Lorelei’s brows furrow. “Not as much as I should have, but I’ve never been great at speaking up.” A soft smile unfolds at the corner of her mouth when she glances sideways at me. “I’m really proud of you, Lennon.”
Her words take me by surprise, my throat clogging with emotions I don’t dare release. “For what,” I joke, doing my best to feign casual indifference.
“For doing exactly what you fucking want.” Lorelei takes a sip of coffee before setting the mug on the island with a soft sound. “You don’t let his shit get to you. Instead of folding, you just keep moving in the direction you want to go.” She shakes her head, staring at the liquid in her cup. “It’s like no matter what, you refuse to cave to expectations. You wanted to go to college in Ohio. You did. You wanted a business degree, and you got it. You wanted a bed-and-breakfast, and now look at you.” She waves a hand in my direction, and when her eyes finally turn on me, tears sting the corner of mine. I hate myself for it.
Lorelei takes another sip of coffee before tapping a finger on the shiny marble surface of the counter. The spotless surface hides anything that occurred in this very space less then a day ago. “I was honestly surprised when you asked me about the pediatric position,” she continues. “You never seemed like you needed help with anything. You had it all figured out.”
I scoff, shifting on the hard stool. “That’s not how any of that felt. Besides, I had a lot to measure up to.”
There’s a brief pause, a moment for me to mull over the words she’s spoken. They feel like a confession–a long overdue conversation we didn’t know we needed.
My entire adult life has felt unstable. Sure, there are things I’ve wanted, but I’ve had to keep moving. If I stopped pursuing my goals, I was afraid there’d be no soft place to land–only the confirmation of my inadequacy and my destined failure.
Lorelei sighs. “I didn’t want to be a fucking doctor.”
My eyes widen, head snapping in her direction. “What?”
She laughs, but it sounds hollow. “A doctor. I didn’t want to be a doctor at all. I had no idea what I wanted, but a gap year wasn’t an option. Dad promised he wouldn’t help if I took it. Something about making my own money for a year, meaning I could do it for myself.” She looks at me, vulnerability shining in her gaze. “Obviously, that’s ridiculous. I don’t know. I picked something that sounded good; got so far into it I couldn’t back out. By the time I was in med school, I’d acquired so much debt that any other job didn’t make sense.”
I think about the disconnect I’d felt during Lorelei’s time in med school. I’d been attending high school, high on resentment and spite and barrelling toward a dream I truly wanted but wasn’t supported in having.
Lorelei hardly talked to me, visiting for short stints and spending them holed up in her room studying. Dad praised her work ethic–her drive. I suppose his words helped form my opinions about what was happening around me. His ideas always held far too much weight, anyway.
Plus, it’s not like I talked to Lorelei. I didn’t want to pine for some kind of sibling relationship that didn’t exist–didn’t want to fall into the typical younger sibling role begging for attention.
I chew on my lip, eyes fixed to my cup. “You seemed so motivated, though.”
“Ahh,” she says. “That good old external pressure pushing me toward something I didn’t even want. I think Devon is the only good thing I got out of it all.” Her fist rests on her cheek as she looks at me, her green eyes a mirror of my own. “Don’t worry, I ripped him a new asshole for that comment he made at dinner.”
I chuckle, easing some of the tension before saying the one thing on my mind. “I guess I didn’t realize all of that.” I clear my throat, trying to force the tears away. “Probably pretty selfish of me not to notice.”
Lorelei nudges me with her shoulder. “Sure,” she says. “But everyone is selfish. It’s kind of hard not to be when you’re always fucking there, you know?” She waves a hand around. “Your thoughts. They’re your closest companion.”
I nod, hating the way my stomach churns. Noah’s words echo in my mind.
Yeah, I do think that. Because you are, Lennon. You absolutely fucking are.
“Hey,” she says, nudging me again. “Remember last Christmas when mom was about to die of dysentery because of that undercooked chicken.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“I wasn’t the one cleaning that shit up and running all over town for some meds.”
I wince, the scent of vomit lingering in my nose. “You know Bailey kept trying to eat the puke.”
“That dog was both blind and deaf. I’m sure she didn’t know what she was eating.” Lorelei takes another sip of coffee. “I felt bad last April when Mom had to put her down, but I couldn’t do another year of letting her out all hours of the night.”
I laugh now–the sound more relaxed. “That was terrible, wasn’t it?”
Her laugh mixes with mine. “The worst.”
There’s another pause, one filled with all the confessions of the last twenty minutes.
“I mean it, though, Lennon.” Lorelei stands up, placing her empty coffee mug in the sink before turning around to face me. The cup sits there, unrinsed–the one item making our cold house a little more lived in. “Dad has been really good at loving us in the highlights, but he struggles with everything else.” She leans against the counter, folding her arms. “Maybe one day he’ll go to therapy and get over it, but I promise you, you’re doing a lot of really cool shit–and Noah defending you.” She whistles. “Hot. Not even going to lie.”
I look down, hating the way his name draws guilt from the deepest parts of my chest. “Yeah, well,” I start. “I’m not sure if Noah and I will pan out in the end.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Why do you say that?”
“He left.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
My brows furrow. “It kind of says a lot about the current climate of the very new, very fragile relationship.” I draw my mug to my lips.
“I think it just says you both need to apologize and fuck it out.”
I choke, coughing as the coffee threatens to come out of my nose.
Lorelei smiles, pushing off the counter. “Maybe he’ll paint some more cabinets for you, too.”
She winks, striding out of the kitchen and leaving me with my thoughts.