Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rachel
B rie devours almost the entire large bowl of popcorn sitting between us as we watch The Wizard of Oz for the millionth time. But it never gets old. None of this does. Not the comfy matching holiday pajamas, or the thick blankets draped over us, or the lights dimmed while a movie we love plays. I’ve missed this. Watching TV in my apartment doesn’t feel the same. There’s no sarcastic commentary from my sister or anybody to share my snacks with.
“So what next?” Brie asks as the screen fades away when the film ends.
I stretch and yawn when I see that it’s already past midnight. “I don’t know. Bed?”
She frowns. “You’re no fun.”
“How are you even awake?” I ask. I know for a fact Ryan said she napped now more than she ever has before. “I thought pregnancy made women extra tired or something.”
“I took a nap before you got here.”
Of course she did.
“We’ve already watched all the Christmas classics,” I tell her, staring at the pile of DVDs on the table that we’ve been through. “And your husband passed out hours ago. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”
Brie waves me off, moving the empty bowl away from us and setting it on the table. “He’ll be fine. I want time with my big sis. Are you excited to be in your last semester of school?”
I’m not sure excited is the right word. Nervous. Anxious. A little sad. All of those are much more fitting. “It’s nerve-racking,” I admit.
I’ve never been great with the unknown. My adviser gave me some information on a few PhD programs for my doctorate degree, but I’m still not sold on the next steps, or where those steps will take me.
Brie shifts on the couch, her hand absentmindedly going to her midsection and palming the tiny bump there. Unless you were clued in, you’d never know she was pregnant by just looking at her. “I don’t know how you managed to suffer through so much schooling. I barely passed high school. The thought of going to college…” Her face scrunches. “I’ve always respected you a lot for everything you’ve done.”
I blink, a little surprised by her admission. It’s not that I’ve ever felt she hasn’t respected me for my choices in life, but I’ve let myself live with the guilt of leaving her behind to pursue those decisions. “Really?”
She rolls her eyes, grinning at me. “Yes, really, dummy. You’ve always been so sure of everything you’ve wanted, and you work so hard for it all. I wish I had half as much motivation as you do.” Her smile slowly disappears, not turning into a frown, but making her look thoughtful. “I used to be jealous of you.”
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead.
She nods, lifting her shoulders. “You’re so much like Mom, and you followed in her footsteps. I’ve always sort of felt like a failure because I never wanted to go to college or be a teacher. I used to think she wouldn’t be proud of me because I took a different route.”
My heart drops into my stomach. How could she think that? “Brie Cheese, Mom could never be disappointed in you. She always used to tell us she was happy if we were, remember? Like when we both were at the dating age. She told us she didn’t care if the person we brought home was white, black, or purple as long as they treated us right and made us happy. Or when we became seniors, and she said she was okay with whatever we chose to do after high school as long as we made a future for ourselves. There was nobody more supportive than her. You get that from her.”
I can tell my little sister doesn’t believe me, but it’s true. Even when she was sad I was leaving, she told me she was happy for me. And even though she’d been upset that I wasn’t moving back to Pennsylvania immediately after our mother died, she understood I needed space from here. I’m not sure I would have felt the same if I were in her shoes.
That’s our mother through and through.
I grab her hand and hold it. “I have no doubt in my mind that Mom is so, so proud of you. She’s proud of both of us. And there are things…” I wince, thinking about all the stuff I’d rather she’d not see me do. “There are things I’m sure she wouldn’t approve of us doing sometimes, but that doesn’t change how she loves us. Even from wherever she’s watching us from. You’re working a good job with good benefits and a good paycheck. You’re married to the love of your life and bringing the very first grandbaby into the world. Just because you didn’t follow in her footsteps doesn’t mean she would love you any less for it.”
Her eyes go down to her stomach, which her other hand is still palming. A soft smile splits her mouth, making her ease her squared shoulders.
Then her eyes bolt up to mine, her brows pinched. “Wait a minute. What kinds of things would she not approve of that you’re doing? You’re, like, the golden child.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“Well, you are. So tell me what you did.”
“Nothing…”
She sits up straighter. “Oh my God. It has to do with a boy.”
I gape at her. “How do you—”
The high-pitched squeal of excitement hurts my ears as she claps. “I’m right! This is so exciting. Your dating life is so boring, it’s about time you spilled the tea.”
“Hey.” I frown. “It’s not that boring.”
“The last guy you told me about was some IT nerd who lived in his parents’ basement.”
I wince. “He was saving money to buy his first house. It’s not that uncommon for people to live with their parents these days. Have you kept up with the economy?”
She eyes me, ignoring the question for one of her own. “What about the guy who sold cars for a living and thought he was going to be some Google tech wizard in Cali?”
Ugh. Dylan. I wish I could forget that date. Secretly, I was a little glad that Matthew salvaged the night. “I get it. I don’t have great judgment. But these guys seemed decent over messaging. It just didn’t convert to in-person conversations.”
Brie scoffs. “That’s because the IT dork was probably only used to talking to middle-aged men about side quests and Star Wars over gaming headphones. I’m sure you were the first woman he ever spoke to.”
“That’s a little mean,” I chide. But also, possibly not untrue. Which is sad.
“And the car salesman probably doesn’t even know what a clit is, much less where to find it,” she states confidently.
I can’t help but snort at that.
“I bet he thinks it’s a fictional thing women made up,” she muses with a snicker. “And the only time he tried finding it turned into him strumming the lips like a guitar and asking the poor girl if she came yet.”
Now, I’m belly laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and I have to smack my sister for her crudeness. “Don’t be gross,” I say in between gasps of breath.
She shrugs it off. “So, tell me. Who’s the guy, and why would Mom not approve? Is he super old and wrinkly? Like grandad’s age?”
What the hell? “Gross. No.” I don’t even want to know why her mind would go there.
“Okay. So…” Her eyes narrow in contemplation as she stares at me, the tip of her tongue dipping out the corner of her mouth as she racks her brain for another reason. Then her expression melts into one of shock. “He’s married. You’re into a married guy. God, Rach! Did you sleep with him ? What about his wife and kids?”
Holy shit. Not only is she assuming the worst, but she’s making me a home-wrecker to a fictional family. “Brie,” I say slowly, blinking. “There’s no married man. Or children.”
For a moment, it looks like she doesn’t believe me. Then she blows out a long breath and nods. “Okay. Good. Even I would judge you for that. Especially since you got your panties in a twist over the Dad and Tatum thing.”
My eye twitches. Even though that was cleared up during Thanksgiving break, it still hits me in the chest like a sledgehammer to the heart. I’m trying to put it behind me—to be happy for Dad the way Mom wanted him to be. But all those feelings, grief, mourning, and confusion don’t just go away overnight. I wish it did. For my sake. For Dad’s. Even maybe for Tatum’s. A little.
But the thing is, I’m still a hypocrite. I may not be a cheater or a home-wrecker, but I did cross ethical boundaries with somebody younger than me. Isn’t that something I’ve judged my father for since he told us about Tatum? She’s only ten years older than me. Not even a full ten years. More like nine and a half. And, sure, I wasn’t going after anybody underage. But it doesn’t look good considering my feelings about my father’s current relationship.
Brie squeezes my hand. “What is it then?”
Would she judge me? Tell me I’m gross? That I’m wrong for what I’ve done or how I feel? Because what I feel…
Well, it’s too much. I feel alive with Matt. Like I’m a teenager again. We may not be that different in age, but he makes me feel younger, carefree, and…happy.
Just like Mom always wanted me to be.
Internally, I sigh. “There’s this boy…”
She makes another squealing sound that makes me flinch.
“Stop doing that before you wake up Ryan,” I grumble, rubbing my ear. Counting to three, I decide to rip off the Band-Aid and tell her. “There is a boy named Matt who used to play for the Dragons. We sort of…” Does she really need me to go into details? “Well, we may have slept together once. Or twice—”
“You ho!” she says with a huge grin on her face, shoving my shoulder. “All this time, I thought your vagina has cobwebs. I didn’t know you hired a football-playing housekeeper to take care of all that dust.”
Seriously? “Brie, it’s not a good thing.”
“Is he at least eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“So he’s legal,” she says with a shrug. “Is he hot? Oh, no. He’s ugly, isn’t he? Did he take too many hits to the face or something? Because I thought that was only a wrestling thing. They make football players wear helmets for a reason.”
I have to close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. This conversation isn’t going how I expected. Then again, it’s not a bad thing. She’s not calling me a disgusting human or a hypocrite.
I’ll take that as a win.
When I finally open my eyes, I feel calmer. “I really shouldn’t expect any less from you, but I’m still reeling at how this is going.”
Brie is unashamed. “Look, it’s okay if he’s ugly. Beauty is subjective.”
I groan. “He isn’t ugly.”
“Okay…”
“He’s a few years younger than me.”
She blinks silently.
“And a student,” I say, a little quieter.
Understanding takes a few minutes to cross her face before she lets out a drawn-out, “Ohhhh. I see.” But I don’t think she really does. “Is that against the rules or something?”
My eyebrow twitches. “Yes.”
“But you’re a student too.”
“But I’m also a faculty member,” I point out.
I read the rulebook. Twice. And after Coach Pearce’s abrupt exit, it was abundantly clear that nobody else make any mistakes that would cost more scandal in the news. The university already lost funding thanks to the articles published about the former head coach’s broken moral compass. They don’t want any repeats, no matter the circumstances.
Now Brie actually gets it. “And you think Mom wouldn’t approve because you’re going against the rules,” she states.
All I do is nod.
“That’s stupid,” she informs me. “You just said that Mom would be happy for us, no matter what. Does Matt make you happy?”
“Well…”
Her brows arch. “Well, what?”
Quietly, I say, “Yes.”
“And he’s older than eighteen, so he’s legal,” she adds, using another finger on her hand to point out that I’m being ridiculous. “Plus, you said he’s a former player on the team, which means you probably don’t work with him anymore. It isn’t like he’s in a class you teach. He’s not young and naive. I’m sure he knows what he’s getting himself into.”
Does he though? It hasn’t seemed like he understood the ramifications of getting caught. How different they would be for me than for him. I still have a lot to risk.
Yet, you risked it anyway.
God, I really am a ho.
“It isn’t like you banged him on your desk at work or anything,” she says nonchalantly.
I make a face before I can stop myself, causing my sister to gasp.
“Holy damn, you slut. You totally banged him on your desk at work. I’m…” She looks like she’s getting emotional. “I’m so proud of you.”
Oh my God. “Brie,” I grumble, sighing. Is that a tear? Jesus. She’s literally crying. “Are you really getting all weepy on me?”
She sniffles. “It’s these stupid pregnancy hormones. Shut up.” Swiping under her eyes, she takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t see what the big deal is. You’re graduating soon. If you want to be with him, if you love him, it isn’t like you have to wait for long.”
“Whoa,” I stop her, eyes widening. “I never said I loved him.”
She rolls her glassy eyes. “Rachel, you’re so dense sometimes. Don’t do the same thing you did with Michael.”
What? “What are you talking about?”
“Why didn’t things work out with Michael?” she asks.
Ugh, random. “We wanted different things. He wanted to be a cop here, and I wanted to leave. You know that.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not it, though. You broke up with him because you got in your head. Even you admitted that he never said that you couldn’t go away to college or have a career of your own. You told yourself that so you could justify going.”
“I…” I stop myself, lips parting.
Then I think about it. Really think.
Brie’s expression softens. “Michael has always been stubborn, but he also loved you a lot. I’m sure he would have been willing to do long-distance if you truly wanted to get away. And even if his dream was to be a cop here, he could have found a job in law enforcement anywhere. I’m sure he would have for you.”
For once, I’m speechless.
Because…she’s right. Michael probably would have done all those things. He was a good person. A really good one.
Brie takes my hand again. “You’re always overthinking everything. Maybe it’s time you got out of that thick skull of yours and let your heart decide what to do for once. If this guy didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be worried if Mom would approve or not. He matters to you because you love him.”
My whole body warms up at the proclamation that I’ve never truly said. But…
I think she’s right.
Nibbling on my lip, I release it and lean back on the couch. “I’ve given Dad and Tatum a lot of shit for their relationship.”
My sister smiles warmly. “It’s not too late to apologize for that.”
I look down at my lap.
We sit in silence for what feels like forever.
Then Brie breaks it by saying, “Did you really have sex on your desk?” My face heats up, making her even more interested in the answer. “I need the details. And maybe some ice cream.”
*
The front stoop of my childhood home is cold as I stare up absentmindedly at the New Year’s fireworks display happening in the distance. A harsh wind snatches the knit cap off my head before I can catch it, blowing it away, and I welcome the brutal chill.
Before I can even bother getting up to catch it, I see it extended to me by a petite hand with manicured fingers that can only belong to one person. “Mind if I join you?” Tatum asks, waiting for me to shake my head before sitting on the cool cement beside me. “It’s a little cold to be out here. You’ll get sick.”
“I needed fresh air.”
She stuffs her hands into her winter jacket and watches the pretty colors explode across the dark sky. “I know I’m the last person you probably want to talk to, but your dad is worried. You’ve been quiet, and you haven’t eaten much since coming home. Are you feeling okay?”
Mom’s appetite dulled when her disease progressed. She didn’t talk because she struggled to. Her mind was cloudy, and her energy was low. If he’s worried, I’m sure it’s because of that.
“I didn’t mean to worry him,” I tell her, hugging my arms around my torso. Despite the thick down jacket, the chilly air still seeps in. “I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
That’s a partial lie.
Sure, going back to Lindon and thinking about what I’ll say to Matt is giving me heartburn. I still don’t know what I’m going to do. My adviser told me I needed to give her a decision on where to get my doctorate in the next month to start the application process. There is a lot of uncertainty riding on my choices over the next few weeks.
Maybe if that was all that was resting on my shoulders, I could manage it better. But then I walked into my childhood home on Christmas Day and saw it. The Christmas tree. Not with the white lights that were normally strung along the seven-foot tree, but colorful ones that flashed. Mom hated those. She also didn’t like the white fluffy tree skirts because they reminded her of snow. She hated snow.
And then there were the stockings…
Or, more specifically, the lack of certain stockings hanging on the wall.
Mom’s stocking was missing. Erased just like her favorite yellow walls, white curtains, and area rug, which she had imported all the way from Italy because she loved it so much when she and Dad went on their honeymoon.
When I saw that, I think my heart actually cracked.
I couldn’t talk.
Couldn’t eat.
Mom’s favorite holiday was Christmas, and there was no memory of her in sight this year.
Tatum’s eyes study my profile, a long breath releasing into a puff of air in front of her when she faces forward again. “I know you and I will never be friends, but we have things in common. We both love your father.”
My nostrils flare with irritation, and I stay quiet. I don’t trust myself to comment on that because it’ll be driven by emotions.
Then Tatum says something I wasn’t anticipating. “My aunt died in a car accident when I was twenty-one. It was…horrific. A drunk driver struck her car, killing her and one of their passengers.”
Sadness sweeps over me. “That’s horrible,” I whisper, frowning when I see the distant look she has on her face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She nods almost absently before looking at me with a tiny smile. “I appreciate that. I’m only telling you because I saw what it did to my uncle. He was so lost. So depressed. They were the perfect couple everybody looked up to. Even I was a little jealous of them.” Her expression is thoughtful, nostalgic. “Losing her was like losing an organ. I’ve never seen him that way in my life. I watched him disappear a little more every day until there was barely anything left.”
Sounds familiar. For the first couple of months, Dad was inconsolable. Brie and I tried everything we could to get him to eat. He barely went to work. Slept a lot. I thought he was going to lose his job at the bank because of all the time he took off. They were understanding…at first. Then, they were less so as time went on. Not that I blamed them.
“It took a long time for him to be okay,” she continues softly. “And a lot of therapy. I went to a few sessions with him because my aunt meant the absolute world to me too. She practically raised me because of how much my parents worked. She was my best friend. Talking about it helped, and coming up with solutions for moving forward was something my uncle and I had to work toward. But we did. Eventually.
“It started with little things but led to much larger changes. We redid his bedding. Then, the living room pillows. After a while, we repainted the house. She was the one who decorated everything. Chose the colors and the décor. Revamping things was cheaper than buying a new house…”
I see where she’s going with this, but I don’t know how I feel about it. “My father isn’t your uncle,” I tell her. “And my mom isn’t your aunt. Your uncle and my father lost somebody special to them. Repainting a house and buying new pillows isn’t going to change that. Their memories don’t deserve to be erased just because they’re gone.”
She leans back, looking up at the fireworks still lighting the sky in red, white, and blue formations. “I promise I’m not trying to make your father forget anything. All her things are in a custom-made box I got for him shortly after she passed. It’s the same type of box I got my uncle for his late wife. You’re supposed to put things that remind you of them inside. It doesn’t have to be every day or every week. It’s on your timeline. A memory box, they call it. Your mother will always be with you and your father and sister, Rachel. Always.”
I want to blame her. Be angry. Call her names.
But she has made a difference in Dad’s life, even if I hate the changes she’s made to the house. Truthfully, I think she could be right. Maybe. Change isn’t always bad. And the way Dad was right after Mom’s passing…
“I know that there’s no replacing the woman your mom was. Not her memory or her character or her role. And I don’t want to, Rachel. That was never my intention when I fell for your dad. Neither was accepting that the future I always wanted and the future I’ve gotten are two different things.”
“What do you mean?” This is the most we’ve spoken to each other in all the time I’ve known her, so I don’t expect her to give me an honest answer. But she does.
“I always wanted to get married and have kids of my own,” she admits, staring up at the sky. “But your father doesn’t want to repeat either of those things, and I’ve learned to be okay with it. Because I love him, and he loves you and Brie. What we have is enough.”
All I can do is stare at her in disbelief.
She’s willing to stay with my father despite not getting what she wants from their relationship?
“I don’t expect us to be friends,” she reiterates, dropping her feet onto the ground and knocking our shoulders together. “But I wouldn’t mind a shot to be…whatever it is you might need right now. For whatever that’s worth.”
She isn’t pushing or pressing or being unreasonable. Has she always been like this? I feel a little bad I haven’t tried harder to get to know her like Dad has wanted.
“If I tell you something, can you not bring it up to Dad until I’m ready to tell him?” My eyes peek at her with vulnerability, rubbing my arm for warmth.
“I can manage that.”
Swallowing, I look around the decorated front yard with a blow-up reindeer and Santa sleigh and candy cane lights lining the walkway to the house. I count to three and say, “I think I want to come home. For Brie and the baby. And for Dad.”
For a moment, surprise flickers on her face. Then a slow, warm smile splits her lips.
Moving my hair out of my face, I cluck my tongue thoughtfully. “It’s only a thought.”
Her hand touches mine lightly to gain my attention, only briefly, before pulling away. “If that’s what you truly want to do, I know everybody will happily support you. Me included. Your father has been hoping you’d come back, but he knows you need to live your life the way you want to. He’d never influence you one way or another.”
I nod thoughtfully, staying quiet.
“I won’t say a word,” she promises, standing up and brushing herself off. “But you should come in before you catch something. I think I heard your father say he was going to make some hot chocolate.”
My eyes lift. “With the mini marshmallows?”
Her smile stretches as she extends a hand out to me. “He bought a new bag when you said you’d be spending the entire break with us.”
I stare at her hand for a moment longer.
Then I take it.