Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
LEXI
Rory Grady
Are we still on for today?
Me
Obviously
I didn’t know if you still weren’t talking to me.
I’m doing this for Mom not you
It’s not a surprise to see Rory’s black SUV sparkling under the late morning sun, already at the graveyard when I pull up the next morning.
I am kind of surprised to see her and her daughter waiting for me by the car.
Today’s somber mood is a huge fork off of how my life has been lately, but it’s to be expected, what with my dead mom’s birthday and all that.
My thighs twinge as I climb out of my Nissan, and I force the reminder of Wilder out of my mind, as I’ve gotten so good at doing lately.
“I hit traffic,” I tell my sister, as close to an apology as I can offer for not being as punctual and perfect as she is.
“All twelve cars on the road at once?” she asks, but there’s a softness to her face, like she’s being gentle on me. Whether it’s from our fight, or the significance today holds, I’m not sure.
My eyes sting when I see her outfit. It matches mine. A silk, colorful robe, made in Thailand, just like the one that’s inside Mom’s casket.
Even Rory’s daughter is wearing one, though she wasn’t there the night we got ours. Her grandpa brought hers back from his trip to Thailand this past winter.
The Weiss women all match today.
Mom’s never met her granddaughter. She passed before Rory and Wyatt were even officially back together, and long before they managed to get pregnant. She’s never even been here to visit, but that’s one thing I can’t really blame Rory for.
I haven’t been ready either.
Today Mom would’ve been fifty-seven.
It’s been two and a half years without her, and if I can go through with this visit there’s a lot to catch her up on.
Rory links an arm through mine, her daughter in her other arm, and gently leads the way down the cement path, toward the far end of the cemetery. Sun on my face, wind blowing back my curls, I feel Mom in all of it.
My niece points, speaking a language for infants, as a butterfly passes overhead, flitting and crisscrossing by us.
Underneath some shady oaks and a bushy cedar lies our mother.
I take my niece, bouncing her in place—trying to focus on her and not the headstone in front of me—as Rory unpacks the bag she had on her back, laying out a large blanket for us to sit on next to Mom’s plot.
Once Rory is seated, her robe splayed out around her, I hand her daughter over and join them, plopping down with far less grace. Mom wasn’t pretentious. I don’t think she cares that when I cross my legs you can see the shorts I have on under my robe. But Rory’s ankles are crossed, demure as ever.
“How do we start?” I mutter, scratching at a design in the blanket rather than look up and see the reminder.
Like I needed one.
If you’ve ever loved someone and lost them, you know.
You always fucking know they’re missing.
“I’ll try,” she says, sniffing and clearing her throat. “Hi, Mom. Happy birthday.”
I have to stop air from coming in or out so the sobs don’t come with it.
Biting my lip until I can steady myself again, I look up at her headstone.
Laura Lee Weiss
Mother, lover, friend
Fuck cancer
I didn’t think the company would actually put fuck cancer on the headstone, but Rory can be pretty convincing, and that was one line she, Duke, and I all agreed on. We all thought Mom would’ve agreed.
Rory reaches back into her tote bag and pulls out some flowers.
“Sorry for not coming sooner, but I brought you flowers.”
She leans forward to place them closer to Mom, and sits back again, still balancing her daughter in her lap.
“It’s very on-brand for you to show up way too late,” I mutter.
“That’s—” she stops to wipe her nose before putting on her bad bitch face and continuing.
“That’s not all I brought you. There’s someone here to meet you.
You have a granddaughter. She got Wyatt’s dark hair, but I think she’s got more than just our cheeks.
The Weiss woman attitude is already showing up with her. ”
A wet laugh breaks from me unexpectedly. That baby can be stubborn, just like her mama, auntie, and grandmama have been known to be a time or two.
“We named her Laura Lee,” Rory says, kissing the baby’s cheek and cradling her head, her eyes squeezing shut for just a moment.
My own tears break past the defenses of my eyelids and I give up the fight, letting them run rampant down my face, one hand covering my mouth to try to stay silent.
Rory keeps talking. “I wish you got to meet her. I wish you were still here. I still need you, Mom.” Her voice is barely a whisper by the end, and I reach my free hand out, putting it on her arm as her chest shakes with silent sobs.
“There are so many things I need help with as a mother, and Wyatt’s mom’s cooking isn’t as good as yours. ”
Her attempt to lighten the tone only works a little, as now we’re both laughing, even though we are sobbing, and I think it’s even messier than the crying was.
“I miss the way you’d make fun of Rory when she says shit like that,” I tell her. “It’s really hard to keep her ego in check on my own.”
Rory’s shaking with a ratio that’s more laughter than crying now, as she leans over and places her cheek on my shoulder, but the tears still seep through my gingham shirt beneath the robe.
“We’re trying to keep going without you,” I whisper, throat closing up. “Because I know that’s what you want.”
Baby Laura Lee crawls off of Rory’s lap and starts rocking on her hands and knees on the blanket.
“I’m not at the grocery store anymore,” I tell her. “Finally re-opened the diner downtown. I think I’m in over my head, but you should see downtown, Mama. It’s beautiful.”
Rory puts her arm around me, her head still on my shoulder.
“Rory’s done a great job,” I whisper.
“All for you.” Her lips are barely moving but I hear the words, and I think Mom does too.
I want to ask her questions; I want to unload the things that have been weighing down my heart.
I’ve forgiven Daddy, and I hope you don’t hate me for it.
Rory would disown me if she knew. But I don’t want to wish I’d done something after it’s too late.
If there’s one thing losing you taught me, it’s not to waste the time I have with the people I love, and I’m trying. You don’t hate me for that, do you?
Forgiveness is harder than it sounds. Rory and I are close again, but I’m not sure I’ll ever forget how she left us. I wish you could give me a talk that makes it all make sense.
I lied on some paperwork and it might get me in trouble one day, but I’m trying to follow in the family footsteps the only way I can. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, right?
There’s this man who’s insufferable and I hate him, but somehow I want him anyway, and I’m worried I don’t hate him after all. What would you do if you were me?
But she can’t answer me. So I don’t bother.
Rory fills her in for the both of us, telling her about the last couple of years.
About Wyatt taking over the garage, and how even Weston is back in town, a partner in the garage now.
About the woman who he tied down, and how she’s becoming like a sister to both of us.
How we all do family dinners on Sunday nights at her and Wyatt’s cottage, and how Duke comes to every single one of them.
“I know he comes to visit you a lot,” she says, a soft smile on her lips. “He probably told you all about his trip to Thailand a few months ago. But I wanted you to see your granddaughter in what he brought back for her.”
Rory holds her hands out to the baby to pick her up and show her off, but my niece surprises all of us. Feet beneath her, she pushes up with her hands and takes her first steps, right into her mother’s arms, happily chirping the whole couple of steps.
Face buried in her daughter’s neck, Rory moons over her, telling her how she did such a good job walking, to happy giggles in response.
When she pulls back and looks over at me, her eyes are lined in silver.
“She took her first steps in front of Mom.”
All I can do is nod, a disbelieving smile on my face.
I think we’ll be coming back before another two years passes.
We spent a good day with Mom, filling her in on everything she’s missed, sometimes laughing (there was definitely more crying), and sometimes sitting in silence, her presence enough.
By the time mid-afternoon rolls around, we’ve gone through the picnic Rory brought for us, placed flowers and mementos around the headstone, and are packed up and heading back to the parking area.
Baby Laura Lee didn’t take any more steps, but the ones she did take felt like enough of a sign.
Once the baby is in the car and her bag is away, Rory pulls me in for a hug.
“I’m glad we did this,” she whispers into my shoulder.
I am, too, but I’m still mad at her.
Guess that’s fairly obvious when I don’t hug her back or respond.
She pulls back, hands cupping my cheeks, like she’s the big sister here. Like she’s always been here for me, like she didn’t leave Mom, and me, and Wyatt, and the rest of this town on a fucking whim.
Like she’s the only one that was hurt in our family, not the one who needed to get away from us so she could feel better.
“Can we just have today?” she asks, voice still soft and raw.
“Never know if I’ll get a tomorrow with you,” I bite back. “Here today, gone the next. The Aurora Weiss special.”
Her hands drop to her sides with a loud slap, and I almost flinch at the sound.
“I thought we got past this?”
I take a step back, sneaker squeaking on the pavement with the motion. “So you can hold a grudge against Dad for leaving our family, but I can’t feel the same about you?”
“Lex, I apologized. I spent months trying to make it right. We talked all this out years ago. Why are you doing this now?”
The pit in my stomach gnaws, pulling more of me into that knot I’ve had ever since I started lying to her. But she won’t listen to reason when it comes to Dad, it’s not like she gave me a choice.
“I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who’s wasting the only time you’ll get with our one remaining parent.”
“Wait. Are you saying you’re not wasting it?”
My eyes latch onto hers, but my mouth stays shut.
“Alexis. Are you in contact with Dad?”
“Did you want me to wait until he tells us he’s dying? Is that the etiquette from the Rory Handbook on Dealing with Parents?”
Her jaw drops, hand flying to her open mouth.
“That was low, even for you,” she says, lower lip trembling.
“Is that what it’s going to take?” I push. “You’re going to pretend he doesn’t exist until he’s on his deathbed, like you did with Mom? What if we don’t get a warning with him, huh? What if you wake up one day and get a message that he’s gone?”
She shakes her head, jaw clenched tight.
“You still going to be glad you’ve punished him all those years? I thought you were the ‘smart one’ of the family.” I give her air quotes. “But you’re being really fucking dumb about this.”
I turn and stomp toward my car, her voice hollering after me.
“You’re going to ruin our relationship over our father? The piece of shit who cheated on Mom? After the last few years, Alexis?”
Spinning back to her, I overshoot it out of anger and have to steady my landing. Throwing my arms in the air, I lean forward, yelling back at her, “Because you’ve never made any huge fucking mistakes, right? Your family forgave you, Rory. You’re not going to give him the same chance?”
I’m off, done with her.
“You’re a bitch for ruining today,” she calls after me.
“You’re just a bitch!” I call back, without turning my head.
I can’t believe I fought for her, tried to clear her name with Dad and work up to some reconciliation between them.
She doesn’t deserve my help with him anymore. She can choke on her regrets when it’s too late.
I’m not making her same mistakes.
Pulling up my dad’s contact, I press dial and listen to it ring through the car’s speakers. He answers on the second ring.
“Princess, how did it go?”
“Can you come over?” I whisper, nose working overtime to keep my tears at bay. “I need my dad.”