Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
I can't walk in on that. I can't deal with my mother in this kind of mood, so I turn to go and hide in my room for a little longer but stop in my tracks when I see my sister in the doorway to our shared bathroom, looking up at me.
“You'll have to face her eventually,” she says in a whisper, her arms crossed, “if you’re going to ask Jenna to dinner tonight.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Dad just warned Mum about it, which is why she's having a mini meltdown.” Maeve turns her fingers on one hand up, inspecting her nails.
“I'll come back later and talk about it. It's my birthday after all,” I say.
“And you're not going to spend most of it with your parents, which is fine. I wouldn't want to either,” Maeve says. “But you shouldn't actively try to ignore them on your birthday.”
The need to not be here, to be in Jenna's villa, is so strong as it rises in my body, I feel like I could choke on it. I turn my head back to the living area.
“Want to run away?” Maeve asks, her eyes on me when I turn to look at her.
“Yes.” I laugh with the relief of being honest.
“I get that,” she says. “But sometimes you have to stick around and face the music.”
“What do you know about that?” I ask crossing my arms now too.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Marty. I grew up a lot in the last year too.”
I lean my head back against the wall and study her.
I always think of her as my little sister, the youngest in our family, but truthfully, sometimes she acts like the most level-headed of us all.
She's so like our father with her calm ways, her preference for few words, but there’s also this exhibitionist streak that I know is more like our mother, which is how she's built this ridiculously successful career for herself as an influencer. And in the process she has indeed grown up, a lot, not to mention how she was there throughout the whole of Arnie’s illness and passing, and then afterwards.
“I am sorry about how hard the last year has been, and I know I’ve said it before, but I will say it again. I appreciate how you looked out for me while I was... away.”
Maeve nods, quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I just didn’t need the hassle of a dead brother,” she deadpans, but her eyes are soft and warm.
When the idea comes into my head, I don't fight it. “How about we all spend the afternoon together? You, me, Ma and Dad? We can go to the beach, go on some pedalos or maybe rent a jet ski like we did in Dubai that time.”
I can tell she's trying to contain the smile that comes from the memories of that trip.
It was the first and only really big holiday we did, just after Dad sold his first business.
We were fifteen and eleven and we persuaded Mum and Dad to let Maeve come on a jet ski with me where I did everything I could to shake her off, but it didn't work.
And then once we were out at sea, away from our mother's stare, I let her drive and she went off so fast and hard I fell back and straight off the jet ski.
“You want to do that?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say and suddenly I do. “But no phone, okay?”
She rolls her eyes, possibly annoyed or belligerent at even the suggestion she couldn't do an afternoon without her phone. “Depends on how boring you are,” she replies.
I nod in the direction of our parents. “You think when I suggest it to them it will get me some favour about Jenna?”
She shrugs her eyebrows. “Possibly, although I don't want to think about what you're going to have to do to get Jenna to agree.”
“Jenna will be grand,” I say, her name making my heart rate speed up and temperature change.
It may not be what she wants to do on her holiday - have dinner with my barely functioning family - but I hope she will feel the same as me, as long as we're together, sitting next to each other, and enjoying a sunset, she'll find some good in it.
“I'm not so sure. Mum and her had a nice chat in the gym,” Maeve says.
“What? When?” I’ve suddenly cooled right down, although my pulse beats quicker.
“Just now.”
“What did she say?”
“I didn't hear all of it. Mum snuck back after our workout, left her water bottle there.” Maeve uses air quotes on the word 'left'. “But Jenna may not want to be at dinner tonight, just to warn you.”
“Christ on a motherfucking bike,” I say, rushing into the living area.
“Aiden!” My mother says as she steps out of my father's embrace. Were they really hugging for that long? “Happy birthday, sweetheart!”
“Thanks,” I say as I race for the door, pushing my feet into my Birkenstocks. My teeth are gritted, and I want to have words with her, I will have words with her, but first Jenna.
Jenna, Jenna, Jenna.
“Where are you going?” My mother is fast on the approach towards me.
“To Jenna's,” I say giving her a quick but firm look.
“Ah,” she says. “Yes, I introduced myself in the gym and...”
“Ma, I'll be back after lunch. We'll spend the afternoon together, okay? All four of us. We'll go to the beach, or stay here, or whatever you want to do.”
“Oh, Marty, I'd like that, very much,” she says and clasps her hands together, holds them against her chest.
“Good, and I'd like it if Jenna joined us for dinner tonight.” I turn the door handle, ready to go. “And I'd really like it if you could not make it a fucking nightmare for everyone.”
I walk out of the door before slamming it behind me.