14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
“This is why we can’t have nice things,” I shout along to the lyrics as I turn into Grandma’s drive. I stay in the car until the song has ended, feeling her eyes on me after the second chorus. Taking a deep breath, I get out and hurry to the door, where her petite figure is already waiting with open arms.
“Hey, Love,” she greets me with a smile, and I step into her hug. I almost start crying when I hear her worried voice. A wave of nostalgia hits me when the familiar scent of her chocolate pie and lavender hits my nose. She’s never the first one to let go of a hug, so with a heavy heart, I end it once I feel like I’ve got a grip on my emotions. She lets me take a step back but holds me at an arm’s length, looking me up and down with worried eyes .
“How do you become more beautiful each time I see you?” she chuckles, and I give her a sad smile in response.
“Your eyesight is getting worse?” I joke, mustering up a smile. “You baked?” I can smell the hot butter in the air.
“Of course I did,” she assures me and links her arm with mine, gently patting my hand as we walk inside.” It’s so good to see you, Honey.”
“It’s great to see you too.” I lean my head against her shoulder as we walk. It really is. Calling and Facetime doesn’t even come close to talking to her face-to-face.
“How was your drive?” she asks, letting go of my arm once we reach the kitchen to rummage in her fridge. “Go, sit down, child. I heard you took that handsome Simon fella along.”
“The drive was okay. Not good, not bad. Up to where I kicked that ‘handsome fella’ out of my car about two hours away from here, at least.” I sigh and take a seat at the kitchen table. I still need to unpack and do my laundry, and God knows what else. But later. I can’t deal with it now. I’m exhausted from the drive, weary in general, and I need a shower because traveling just makes me feel disgusting. I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent I associate with ‘home.’ I’ll do everything later.
“Oh my, what did that boy do?”
“He told me exactly what he thinks of me,” I answer with disappointment clouding my voice, smiling at her thankfully when she hands me a glass of homemade lemonade and I immediately take a sip. God, I forgot how good it is. “Apparently, nothing too good.”
“Ouch.” She grimaces and pours herself a glass as well after she sits down opposite me .
“Yeah, but at least I know now,” I sigh and shrug. “It sucks, but I screamed my heart out to Taylor Swift on my way here and had a good cry. He knew to point just where it hurts, so yeah, that wasn’t great. Then I decided that those were all the tears I’m going to waste on him. I have bigger problems to solve.”
“Atta girl,” she praises me and leans forward to pat my hand that’s resting on the table. “Crying over men is overrated. Take it as wisdom from your elders.” She winks at me.
And she would know. She left our grandpa when she found him cheating on her with the ‘town mattress.’ Kicked him out of their home and raised their children herself, with his only contribution being a monthly payment. And then, when her own children were grown-ups, she took on raising Jake and me as soon as she learned that my mother would only pawn us off to nannies.
I often wonder how my mother turned out the way she did. So nonchalant about family and only focused on herself and her career. Maybe she just takes after her dad’s side of the family, but still, it puzzles me. She grew up in Grandma’s home, after all.
Trauma from her dad leaving, probably. Whatever the reason, it’s no wonder she married someone with the exact same mindset. Sometimes, I ask myself why they even decided to have children at all. I mean, both of them had no interest in Jake or me and pawned us off whenever and to whomever they could. Why have children at all, then?
I used to fight for their attention, chasing the ‘I’m proud of you’ that never came. It took me way longer than I’d like to admit to realise that no matter what I did, that would never come. So, I stopped wasting my energy on chasing the impossible .
On the bright side, it led to Jake and me being close. So I guess it could have been worse. Speaking of…
“When will Jake be here?” I cock my head. I think he told me at some point, but I forgot.
She beams, obviously looking forward to having him here. “Tomorrow morning, as far as I know. Let’s see if his planes are on schedule.”
“He’s always disgustingly lucky when it comes to stuff like that,” I point out and shake my head. “I’m sure he’ll be on time.”
“We’ll see. I don’t have much faith in these airline companies. Have you told him that you’ve arrived already?” I shake my head, pursing my lips.
“No, he hung up on me, so I didn’t call him the past few days, but I’ll shoot him a message in a bit.”
She chuckles giddily, rubbing her hands together with excitement. “Gosh, I’m so excited to meet his girlfriend!”
“You’ll love her,” I assure her, a smile spreading across my face. “Layla is a sweetheart. I like her.”
“She better be, or I’ll send her right back where she came from,” she says, a way too excited sounding threat. I grin and get up to pour myself another glass. Her lemonade is just as delicious as I remember. Sour but sweet, both just the right amount, punching you right in the tongue.
“Don’t worry. She’s genuinely amazing.” At least, that’s what I gathered from what Jake told me. Anyone who calls him out on his distracted driving already has my approval. Plus, I only saw her for a short moment at the party, but the way Jake beams whenever he’s around her or talks about her tells me all I need to know. He’s head over heels. It’s disgustingly cute, actually. “He even got her a dog.”
Grandma freezes, shock written on her face. “He what?”
“Got her a dog,” I repeat, chuckling. “Unbelievable, right?”
She looks at me for a second, her eyes growing wider and wider. “I’ll need to get a wedding outfit,” she declares and jumps up, probably to hurry to her wardrobe.
“Grandma, calm down,” I shout after her, my chuckle turning into full-blown laughter. That woman. She never fails to lift my mood.
“I mean, he got her a dog. A dog. Your brother is terrified of dogs.”
“Not those dogs,” I assure her. “They have him wrapped around their cute, little paws. And they’ve only been together for a few months.”
“That boy has always been impulsive,” she points out. And, I mean, she’s right. Still, I doubt they’re tying the knot anytime soon.
“Speaking of impulsive,” she says and grimaces, and I just know I’m not going to like what she says next. “Your parents will be here tomorrow.”
I freeze, my blood running cold and my stomach dropping to the ground. Fuck. My intuition was right. I really don’t like that. “Great,” I answer with a fake smile on my face. “So I can hear some more about what a failure I am as a daughter and human being. Love that for me.”
As if I don’t feel down enough already. I try to fill my lungs with air, but it feels like I can’t breathe properly, and my eyes sting with tears. I am blinking back. My fingers find the soft fabric of her tablecloth and start picking at it as I try to remain somewhat calm .
“Don’t sass me, young woman. I’m not thrilled about it either, but I can’t exactly send them away,” she rants, coming back into the kitchen.
“I mean, you could,” I point out. Bless her; she’s still trying to build a relationship with them. And I get it. It’s her daughter. I just wish my mother would fight for a relationship with me the way Grandma fights for one with her. “But I get why you won’t.”
I rub my eyes and lean back in my seat, rubbing my now throbbing temples. This day really went from bad to worse to even worse. Maybe I should just go to sleep so it can’t get even shittier. It’s only four p.m., though.
“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and we’ll have a movie night?” Grandma suggests. “Just like old times.”
“That actually sounds amazing.” I get up and do just that. This day can suck a dick.
The day doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t get much better either. My thoughts jump from Si’s hurtful words to imagining what other hurtful shit my parents are going to spew at me during Thanksgiving dinner. Not even movie night with Grandma can distract me from those, so I try to go to sleep early.
At least I manage to sleep through the night without any nightmares. Which doesn’t mean that I’m sleeping well, though. No, not at all. Instead, I spend half the night looking at the ceiling of my old room and the old light-up stars we put on it together when I was twelve. The fact they’re still there manages to bring a smile to my face, and looking at them calms me.
Grandma hasn’t changed anything about the room, but it doesn’t quite feel like home anymore. Or maybe I’m just too used to living on my own. My eyes wander over the same dark furniture they wandered over ten years ago when I couldn’t sleep. It’s a freaky feeling.
Finally, I manage to fall asleep. Only a few hours later, I wake up to the sound of voices downstairs. I throw on a hoodie and some comfortable pants and make my way down the stairs to greet the source of the noise. It’s a bit like Christmas morning, only it’s Thanksgiving, and I’m not awaiting Santa Claus but my brother.
“Harper!” Jake exclaims and greets me with a bear hug.
I flinch. For a moment, I have Tom’s voice in my ear. “Don’t touch another man. That’s my boundary.” Then I push the voice aside and hug him right back.
Take that, Tom. Fuck you. But wait. I was mad at Jake for hanging up on me.
I let him go and do my best to glare at him, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. Instead, he grabs his and Layla’s bags and brings them upstairs.
“Hi again,” I greet her with a warm hug. After a moment of surprised stiffness, she returns it.
“Hi again,” she says shyly as I let her go. Then she turns and reaches her hand out toward Grandma. “I’m Layla. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Oh, honey, we only greet with hugs here.” Immediately, I see her eyes soften, all scepticism seeping out of her. “I’m Elise, but I’m basically everyone’s grandma. So feel free to call me that, too.”
“Thank you,” Layla answers shyly, biting her lip, clearly nervous .
“Now come on, hun, have a seat.” She ushers Layla to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair to push her onto it. “Can I get you a coffee?”
Later, Jake shows her around the house. She’s especially interested in the pictures of the two of us as children that are hanging all over Grandma’s hallway and living room walls. Sadly, none of them have any embarrassing backstories, but I intend to keep my promise to her I made at Jake’s album release party of telling her all of them. I hope she has time because, oh boy, there are a lot of those.
From noon on, all of us help Grandma in the kitchen. I helped her marinate the turkey already yesterday, but it takes two of us to heave it into the oven. Jake might have muscles, but they’re more for show than useful, I think. At least, he groans about the weight way more than me, and I really haven’t used my muscles a lot the past few days, sitting in a car and all.
Layla and I get to talking while I’m mashing the potatoes and she’s stirring cranberry sauce. Grandma is baking another pie after we annihilated her chocolate pie during our movie night, and she really doesn’t like to be disturbed or distracted when she bakes.
Jake is setting the table, so it’s really just Layla and me in the kitchen.
“How are you doing, Harper?” She smiles at me sweetly and nudges me with her elbow.
“I’m doing as well as I can,” I tell her as I stir the potatoes, assuming that Jake kept her in the loop. “Not great, obviously, but alright. I’m taking it step by step.”
“That’s good.” She nods, not taking her eyes off the cranberry sauce for fear it might bubble over. “If you need someone to talk to, you can always call me. I know you’ve got Jake and Elise,” she shoots her a nervous glance, probably expecting her to burst out with a ‘call me Grandma!’ but she’s doing no such thing. “But if you ever find yourself wanting someone with an outside perspective or from woman to woman, have Jake send you my number, alright?”
“Will do. Thank you, Layla.” I shoot her a thankful smile, touched by the gesture. But today, I don’t want to think about any life problems, so I switch topics. “So you’ve stopped working as a makeup artist?”
“Yes, your brother was actually my last job,” she confesses, giggling, and Grandma turns around, looking at the two of us, confused.
“He was your job? Dear, do you work as a prostitute? Do you need help?”
“Oh no, no,” Layla assures her quickly with a horrified look on her face, and I try to hold back my laughter. I’m not very successful. “I did his makeup for the album artwork.”
“Oh. Well, you did a nice job with it!” Grandma points out and puts the pie into the preheated oven.
“Oh my God,” Layla groans and buries her beet-red face in her hands. “Just shoot me.”
“No chance in hell,” I chuckle and pat her shoulder. “You’re way too entertaining.”
The doorbell rings, and I tense as Jake goes to open it. Instantly, a cold shiver runs down my spine and on reflex, I straighten my back. My hands start trembling, and I quickly hide them in my jeans’ pockets. They’re here.
“Brace yourself,” I warn Layla quietly. “I don’t know how much Jake has told you about our parents, but it’s only going to get worse from here on. ”
And it does. They walk right into the living room without even uttering a word of greeting, noses pointing at the ceiling and sitting down at the table as though we’re all just waiters here, our whole purpose in life to cater to them. They don’t even acknowledge Layla, apart from a condescending “And who’s that?” accompanied by a dismissive flick of my mother’s wrists.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her. She’s sitting right next to me at the dining table, with Jake on her other side at the head of the table. Grandma is on the other end of the table, and my parents sit right opposite us, scrutinizing every move.
To her credit, she’s trying to somewhat save the atmosphere and fill the tense air with small talk. Conversation starts to flow, at least one-sidedly, when she asks them about their work, doing a great job of pretending to be interested in their answers.
“Recently, I’ve had this case of a CEO embezzling money,” my father announces delightfully. “We squeezed the bejeezus out of him. No more yachts and helicopter rides,” he bellows out a gleeful belly laugh as though he’s just told the funniest joke of the century. My mother chuckles along before she bores us with details of one of her divorce cases.
“So, what are you currently doing?” they ask into the room, addressing nobody in particular.
“I-” Jake tries to answer, but our mother interrupts him.
“Not you, Jake. If we want to know what you’re doing, we can just type your name into Google. Harper?”
I look up from my plate and gulp. Here goes nothing.
“Nothing special.” I shrug and hope that’s enough for them. Judging by the uncomfortable silence that follows, I guess it’s not. I hate it when they do that. “I’m moving back here and looking for a new job. The city wasn’t for me.” I find myself elaborating under their scrutinizing gazes.
My mother clicks her tongue. “Of course. I always knew you’d fail in the city. What about your fiancé? Tom, wasn’t it?”
“He’s my ex-fiancé now,” I admit quietly, taking a deep breath as I prepare myself for their tirade.
“Seriously? The one thing you’re doing right, and you blow it?” Yep, there it is. I try my best to switch my ears to standby mode, but of course, they know just where the wounds are to rub salt into. “Of course you did. What did I even expect? Now, who is going to want you? You’re not getting younger, and you’re hardly in an impressive career. You don’t have much to show for yourself.” I feel her eyes on me as she scrutinizes me.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead pick up some of the mashed potatoes with my fork. Big mistake; now I’m fighting the urge to flick it at her arrogant face.
“Don’t sass me, young lady. We’ve invested a lot in you, and I expect you not to let it go down the drain.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Invested what exactly?” I snap back, not able to hold my tongue anymore. I know Grandma wants peace on Thanksgiving, but a bone-deep exhaustion washes over me. People seem to think trampling all over me and my achievements and feelings is okay, but I’ve had enough.
“Time? Hardly. The only time I see you is Thanksgiving or Christmas every few years. Money? Jake has paid my tuition; I did not take a cent from you after high school. So shut your mouth, eat your dinner, and then get the hell out of here so I can enjoy dessert with people who actually like me.”
“Don’t you-” Oh, my mother is fuming. And I’m enjoying every second of it. What’s she gonna do, ground me?
“That’s enough, Moira,” Grandma interrupts before she can continue. “Harper is right. Eat up and then leave.”
“I will not tolerate being spoken to like this.” My mother stands up, her chair scraping over the floor with a bone-chilling, scratching sound. “Come on, William. We are leaving.” My father looks at us, exhaustion and anger simmering behind his eyes before he shakes his head, stands up and follows his wife.
“Thanks, Grandma,” I tell her once the door slams shut behind the two of them. Silence falls in the room, but I can’t read whether it’s an angry or surprised one.
My temples are starting to pound unpleasantly, and dread settles in my stomach. Now, I feel bad about my outburst. I turn my gaze down to the table. Fuck. I didn’t want to ruin Thanksgiving for Grandma.
I lift my hands to massage my temples, hoping that the thumping will subside. What if Grandma and Jake are angry at me now? I don’t even realise how tense my shoulders are until Layla lifts her hand and gives one of them a reassuring squeeze.
The soft sound of Grandma’s chair moving finally makes me look up at her, worry written all over my face.
“You’re welcome,” she says gently and gives me a reassuring smile. My shoulders sag in relief, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. God, my emotions are running wild again .
Jake shakes his head at us and brings our parents’ two plates to the kitchen. Both of them sit down opposite us, so now we’re really just a small round of people.
“I should have done that a lot earlier. I’m sorry, you two. And I’m sorry you had to get into this family drama,” Grandma sighs, suddenly looking ten years older as I see the conflicting emotions fight behind her eyes. “Maybe you’re right, Harper. At some point, fighting for a relationship just becomes a waste of time and energy. I’d rather continue to have the two of you close than try to appease my daughter and son-in-law. They won’t be welcome here anymore,” she assures us and Jake and I shoot a quick glance at each other, the corners of our mouths lifting slowly at the same time.
Both of us have long made the decision to go low contact. They don’t deserve our time, so we tolerated them for Grandma. I’ve been hoping for a clean cut for a while, but as long as she invited them, I just knew it was never going to happen. Yet every single time I saw them, it was like the wound in my heart their indifference left, which started to heal during the time I didn’t see them, was torn wide open.
All those years of having to walk on eggshells at holidays with Grandma and all of her birthdays we contemplated not spending with her because she invited them. At long last, we don’t need to worry about it anymore. Finally, God, I could cry.
“Thank you,” both of us say at the same time, but Grandma waves us off.
“Now, let’s eat. I’ll get the good wine out.” She winks at us, and we all chuckle.