Chapter 2 Lannie Present Day
TWO
LANNIE: PRESENT DAY
I blink at the sting behind my eyes. No crying during dinner.
That rule was enacted after one too many Colton meltdowns. He was three.
Holidays are the exception.
But this isn’t a holiday. Or a special occasion. It’s just Tuesday dinner.
Dinner with the Smitt family has been a semi-regular thing since I moved in next door five years ago.
And Colton turned eight last week, so how pathetic is it that now, at twenty-nine, I’m the one crying into my sweet tea.
Or trying not to cry. “This is delicious, Suz,” I say, carefully choosing my words as I pick at the lasagna.
This time, there’s no answering cough from Alicia, signaling her displeasure. We broke up six months ago. Family dinners were just one of the reasons.
Our upcoming wedding was another. We argued constantly—over little things like the decorations and food, and big things such as my refusal to invite my parents—and I couldn’t really blame Alicia. She liked things a certain way. Her way.
I don’t need control of everything, but I’d like control of something.
Frank sits at one end of the table. Suz at the other. Colton and Ruby are across from me, and the seat next to me is empty. Jace is in his last year of college at Washington University in St. Louis.
The Smitts are a loud, boisterous bunch. Always laughing and joking around. They’re never this quiet, and I hold back the urge to scream. Or apologize. This is all my fault.
“Thank you, Lannie.” Suz smiles with so much patience and understanding that tears threaten again. “Eat up. Without Jace and his ability to scarf down half the pan, there’s plenty.”
The thing about Suz is that she’s so…motherly.
I blink again, focusing on the food I’m not actually eating.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, reaching over to squeeze my arm.
Heat rushes to my face. Humiliation. Frustration. Self-incrimination. A cocktail of emotions so bitter even Suz’s extra-sweet sweet tea isn’t helping.
What’s wrong with me? It’s been six months. My initial relief when Alicia broke up with me—at least the fighting was over—didn’t last.
Is there a limit on being abandoned by people who love you? Or say they love you?
And how long before you acknowledge you might be the problem?
“Lannie?” she prompts again.
“Sorry. I’m fine. Thank you.” And to prove my words are true, even if they aren’t, I take a bite of the lasagna she made—because it’s my favorite—and swallow it down with a gulp of tea.
Losing this wonderful family is inevitable.
My lungs forget how to breathe.
And the pitiful amount of food in my stomach threatens to reappear.
What if they leave me too?
You’re spiraling, Lannie.
That voice belongs to Ben. My therapist.
I close my eyes and focus on the sounds: Ruby humming to herself. Colton kicking something—probably Ruby’s chair. Frank telling his first, but not last, dad joke of the night. Hoping I’ll join in? Even Suz’s silence is loud. I have no doubt she’s watching me.
The pressure in my chest eases bit by bit, and I open my eyes.
Everyone’s eating as if I’m not having a meltdown. Even Ruby’s humming has stopped.
“I’m—” The attempted apology triggers fresh emotions, and I stop. Frank and Suz share a look. They care about me. I know that. Suz practically dragged me to therapy.
They think I’m upset about Alicia. And I am. But the breakup isn’t the core issue, according to Ben.
Apparently, I never got over my parents’ abandonment. Which started way before they cut me out of their lives.
Counseling is helping. Things are getting better. Mostly. The thing they don’t tell you about therapy? Skirting around your issues doesn’t work. You have to plow through. And no matter how careful you are, things always get stirred up. It can be overwhelming.
The Smitt family portrait hangs on the wall behind Colton.
It was taken a few years ago when Jace was home on Christmas break.
Frank and Suz are in front, surrounded by their children.
Jace, with his mischievous smile, has his hand on his mom’s shoulder, and it somehow doesn’t look staged.
Is he nineteen or twenty in the picture?
Ruby stands behind her dad, and although she’s smiling, she conveys the bored expression of a teenager wanting to be anywhere else.
Colton stands between his parents. He’s six in the picture.
So that makes Jace twenty. Suz loves to point out how Colton shot up between kindergarten and first grade.
Notice the person not in that picture?
According to Ben, this voice in my head is my self-doubt. My fear. But Alicia actually said those very words to me once. The other voices on the soundtrack of my life belong to my parents. My actual parents.
I don’t know who you are anymore.
You’re no longer part of this family.
“Are you coming to game night?” Frank asks, interrupting my spiral of self-pity. Friday night game night is a regular thing in the Smitt household. Or it was. Before Jace left for college. Before Alicia.
“We’re always at their house, Lannie. I don’t get it.”
“They’re my family—”
“They’re your neighbors.” She doesn’t yell or scream, and somehow, that makes it worse. “I’m your family.”
I rub my hands on my jeans and push the memories away. “I’m sorry, Frank, I can’t make it this time.” As his smile slips, I try not to take it as another failure. Even after Alicia and I broke up, I continued to miss game night.
Nothing felt right anymore.
Things change. I get that. Every game night doesn’t have to be full of laughter because Frank and I are trying to outdo each other on who can tell the lamest dad joke, with Suz shaking her head and Jace calling us out for being the two most unfunny men on the planet.
Or with Jace frustrated because I’m his partner and the worst Rook player ever. Even though we did beat his parents once—
Focus on now. On being present.
At least this time, my reasons for missing game night are legit. “I’ll be in St. Louis.”
“For work?” Frank asks, his smile returning.
I nod. This is something I’m excited about.
I’m a zookeeper at Willow Springs Zoo, and I love my job.
Being around animals—anything involving nature—is my happy place.
And for the first time since I arrived tonight, my smile is genuine.
“I’m visiting the Denshaw Bird Sanctuary in a few days to observe their setup.
I’ve been trying to convince Willow Springs to expand the aviary for a while now, so this is a great first step. ”
“Wait, you’ll be in St. Louis?” Suz’s face lights up, and for a moment, everything feels normal again. “This is perfect. You can stop by and see Jace.”
It’s been months since I’ve seen Jace. Last summer, he had an internship.
And the few times he was home, he was busy with friends or doing his own thing.
Excitement sparks bright against the grayness of the last six months.
Maybe longer. The thought of seeing him again is like finding the piece of a puzzle I thought I’d lost.
I miss the way things were. Playing basketball with Frank and Jace. Baking and learning to crochet with Suz. Rook tournaments and getting yelled at by Jace. And then Charades because Ruby and Colton didn’t enjoy playing cards. And somehow still getting yelled at by Jace.
But the light dims just as fast. Will it be weird seeing Jace without his family? I’m just the neighbor always at his house.
I keep my eyes on my food as I respond. “I’m only in St. Louis for a couple of days…”
“Of course, dear,” she says, the disappointment clear in her voice. “Ignore me. I’m being silly.”
And that’s when I get it. “What’s going on with Jace? Is he okay?”
I hate the thought of him struggling. He’s like the younger brother I never had. Although that isn’t exactly right. There are seven years between us. And Jace feels like more than a brother. But that more is hard to define.
“I’m sure he’s fine.” She slides a quick glance at Ruby. “He’s busy with classes, and recently, he started dating Fred—”
“Felix,” Ruby says. “And it’s been a month, according to Nikki.”
Nikki is Jace’s roommate. She visited the summer before last for a few weeks, and now she and Ruby are best friends. Evidently, they bonded over a love of anime.
“The point is,” Suz says, waving her hand, “we haven’t heard from him, and you know Jace won’t ask for help.”
Her statement is true enough. Jace is fiercely independent. But something about it feels off. “Okay, sure. I can do it,” I say with a nod, determined to get the real story before I leave on my trip.
“Really? I know you’re busy.”
“It’s no problem,” I assure her. “I’ll drop by after I’m done.”
She smiles, and the fondness in her eyes mutes the negative voices in my head. “Thank you, Lannie.”
As I’m finishing my lasagna, Frank asks if we want to hear a joke he heard at work.
“No,” everyone says, including me.
It doesn’t deter him. “Did you hear about the kidnapping?”
“No,” Colton asks. “What happened?”
“They were able to wake him up.”
Everyone groans.
Breathing feels easier after that, and my mood lifts.
In a few days, I’ll be in St. Louis at the bird sanctuary and then checking on Jace. Will he be happy to see me? I imagine his quick grin. The one he seems to reserve for me.
And for the first time in forever, I feel like I have a purpose.