Chapter 38
38.
Birdie was not especially pleased her sister was having a sexual awakening. The “screamathon” from Violet’s bedroom kept Birdie up until 3:00 a.m. , meaning she’d overslept and was now running late to meet Jecka for their afternoon date. She also hadn’t figured out presents for tomorrow—things had been busy!—but hoped Rafi wanted to go in on something for their mom.
“Raf Attack?” Birdie didn’t bother knocking, hurrying into her brother’s Swiss chalet nightmare of a bedroom. “Have you gotten anything for—oh my GOD. WHAT?!”
Rafi and Ash were both scrambling for clothes, sheets, anything to cover up the fact that they were extremely naked. And not in a we’re-just-getting-changed way. In a we’re-just-getting-railed way.
Birdie shrieked, stumbling back, batting away the sight as if being attacked by Hitchcock’s birds. “Argh! Away!”
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Rafi yelled.
“No, but clearly you’ve heard of banging.” Birdie peeked through her fingers. Ash was under the covers and Rafi was wearing a plaid blanket as a toga. Birdie dropped her hands, not sure whether to laugh or scream. “What in the name of Christmas ?”
Ash and Rafi glanced at each other, fighting back smiles. “Do you need us to lay it out?” Ash asked.
“No.” Birdie sighed. “I did actually read Flowers in the Attic. ”
Rafi threw a cushion at her, which she ducked, grinning.
Birdie glanced at the time on her phone. “Well, I’d love to stay and make this even more awkward, but I’m late to meet Jecka.” Ash and Rafi? Rafi and Ash? She shrugged. “Stranger things.” She headed for the door, pointing back at them. “Guy from that, also gay.”
Ten seconds later, Birdie was in her station wagon, revving the engine. All of that would have to wait. Birdie suspected she had her work cut out for her with Jecka.
Birdie still couldn’t think about Saturday’s meet-the-parents dinner without cringing. That was three days ago, and she and Jecka hadn’t spoken since. Birdie was so nervous, she let herself spike the apple cider in her thermos. Not for a repeat of Saturday night, obviously. Just something to even her out. After she parked her car, a few slugs of the hot, sweet liquid fuzzed out the razor side of her anxiety.
Jecka was already waiting by the picturesque little waterfall on the grounds of her parents’ hotel.
Apologizing for being late, Birdie felt buoyed that Jecka accepted her kiss hello. A briefer kiss than Birdie would’ve liked, but they’d get back on track, right?
Jecka frowned as she pulled back, nose wrinkling. She glanced darkly at the thermos in Birdie’s hand before dropping her gaze to the toes of her boots. “So, I’ve been thinking…”
Birdie took another fortifying sip of cider. “About?”
“Well, I’m going to Boston for the holidays, and when I get back, you’ll be back home in Brooklyn, right?”
Birdie blinked, thrown. “I—I guess. I don’t know. I usually head back to the city for New Year’s.”
Jecka nodded. Her gaze darted like a frightened bird before landing, tentatively, on Birdie. “So, maybe we should just end things now?”
Birdie’s stomach fell out of her bottom and onto the ground between them. “But…why?”
“I’m just being practical.” It sounded half like a plea and half like a decision already made. “We live hours apart,” Jecka went on, “and I have to put work first, to have any shot of reaching my dreams. I want to experiment with stuff that’s ‘adventurous and personal,’ but I’ve been so distracted, I haven’t made any progress at all.”
“Is this about the dinner?” Birdie asked. “I’m sorry about that. I know it wasn’t my best look, and I’m honestly so embarrassed. The grocery store was packed, I had no idea Ma wouldn’t be there—”
“Look,” Jecka cut in. “I’m thirty. I want to build a life with someone. Someone who wants to be in a committed relationship. Is that what you want?”
“Sure,” Birdie replied reflexively, but as she heard herself speak, she realized it felt true. “Yes. I think I do want that.” She went on, nodding. “I want a partner. I want to build a life with someone.”
Jecka made a helpless sound. “I don’t know if I believe that. Someone who wants to build a life with me doesn’t get obliterated around my parents, the very first time they meet.” She ran her hand over her head in distress. “I spent the whole drive back defending you, but by the end, even I wasn’t buying it. Birdie, I think you’ve drank, or planned on drinking, practically every time we’ve hung out. Do you realize that?”
Birdie couldn’t speak. She knew she drank a bit more than most people. That Liz or Rafi could go days without drinking without realizing it, and she never had, never could. But no one had ever challenged her over it.
Jecka went on, her face full of desperate feeling. “You’ve really thrown me. I like you, Birdie. You’re a good person. You make me laugh, you’re kind. I care about you. You’re very good at sex. But do you really want something monogamous and long-term?”
Of course smart, together Jecka Jacob was breaking up with her. Of course this was never going to be anything: Who was she kidding? She was a fuckup. Just like her father. She always had been a fuckup, and she always would be a fuckup, and who in their right mind would want to build a life with that?
Hot tears rushed her eyes. Birdie swung her gaze to the tumbling waterfall so Jecka wouldn’t see. “Guess not.”
Jecka went on, her voice soft and unshakable. “I just think it’s gonna hurt way less if we end it now, and not in six months when we’re more attached.”
Birdie kicked at the ground, unable to meet Jecka’s eye for fear she’d start sobbing. “Cool. Whatever.”
“I’m sorry.” Jecka took another step away, wiping at her nose. “I really am.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Birdie made herself shrug. “Have a nice life.”
Jecka pressed her lips together. Giving Birdie one final, sorrowful look, she turned and walked away.
—
Back in the car, driving too fast, Birdie could barely focus on the road. She glanced in the rearview mirror, hating what she saw.
She was supposed to have followed in her mother’s footsteps, not her father’s. Liz was the family achiever. Rafi was having a self-growth moment. She was getting drunk at an important dinner in between scribbling her stupid ideas in her stupid notebook for a show everyone knew she’d never perform. Her best days were behind her, and they weren’t even that great.
Her sobs became a howl. The road in front of her blurred.
A hard crunch of gravel. The sudden blare of a car horn, a sharp screech of tires. The world around her swerved, trees streaking in front of her. The heartbeat between life and death, this moment. Adrenaline slapped her into focus. Birdie wrestled the steering wheel into submission.
Panicked, she pulled over to the shoulder and flipped on her hazards. It took several long moments to still her racing heart.
She couldn’t stomach going back to the house. Too-wonderful Belvedere Inn, the glorious success story she wasn’t.
Birdie needed to escape everything.