Chapter Eight #3
I want to see Charlie happy. Truly, I do. And if that means sacrificing my own happiness…well, then I guess that’s the price I have to pay.
I’m better off alone, anyways. I’ve always been better off alone. The diner is enough for me.
It has to be.
As for Thea…I don’t know what to do. I never intended to be a parent and even though she’s legally an adult, she still needs a parental-figure to guide her. She’s still a kid.
“Caroline,” I whisper, as if the ghost of my sister can hear me, “tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
Caroline was the oldest. She always knew what to do.
Growing up, any problem I had could be solved by my older sister.
She stood up to playground bullies for me, helped me with spelling homework when I struggled, and told me which boys in high school to ignore.
She was there for me in a way our parents couldn’t be, even into adulthood.
She blazed the trail with intensity so I could travel it at my own pace.
I sought her opinion on every big decision in my life.
And now, making them without her is harder than I ever imagined it would be.
Shakily, I stand up. I let out a sigh and wipe my hands on my jeans.
I turn to the sink and quickly wash my hands and splash water on my face.
The coldness sends a shock through my system and helps clear my head.
I grab a fresh dish towel and dry my hands and face and then toss it back onto the counter.
I reach for the browning bananas on the other side of the counter and then flip the oven into pre-heating mode. Gathering my ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator, I get to work.
I whip up the banana bread mixture, mixing it by hand. I’ve always preferred to do it by hand; it helps to really work out the emotions I’m feeling. I sniffle as I work, the remnants of my breakdown still lingering. My eyes feel puffy and I make a mental note to use extra eye cream tonight.
Stirring my sadness away, I pour the batter into a baking dish, sprinkle some chocolate chips on top, and stick it into the oven. I set a timer just as I hear a key in the front doorknob and know it must be Thea. I have a clearer head and feel ready to face her.
I grab the bottle from the sink and turn to face the doorway just as she walks in, holding my pizza box.
“Want to explain this?” I ask, holding the empty bottle up.
Thea freezes, the smile fading from her face. She sets the pizza on the table in the corner and starts to look away.
“Look at me,” I say. My voice is calm, but icy.
Her eyes fly back to me and we stare at each other for a few moments. She is squirming under my gaze, shuffling uneasily on her feet and biting her lip.
“Um, I…” she stammers and laughs nervously. “You see…”
“Cut the crap, Thea.” I set the bottle down on the counter behind me. “There are only two people in this house and I didn’t replace the vodka with water.”
She looks down at her feet, just like she used to when she was a little girl in trouble with Caroline.
“It was her birthday,” she mumbles, “and you left me alone.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?” I shoot back.
“No,” she says quickly, backpedaling. “I just didn’t want to be alone on her birthday and you said you’d be here and I was just so sad.”
I feel about two feet tall. I’d promised not to leave her alone that day, but two of my waitresses had called out and I couldn’t get anyone to cover, and then I’d forgotten entirely with the busyness of my day.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, still looking at her feet. “I just don’t know what to do with all the sadness. Baking didn’t help.”
There’s silence for a few moments before I speak.
“I’m sorry,” I say, stepping closer to her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her. She buries her head in my hair and I feel her start crying. Her body shakes as she lets her grief out. I feel the full weight of what she’s been carrying.
“I just miss her,” she mumbles. I can barely make it out as she sobs and gasps for air.
“I miss her, too.” I gently stroke her hair in an attempt to soothe her. “But you cannot drink your grief away, do you hear me?”
She pulls away as she nods and I reach for her face, gently wiping at the tears staining her cheeks. The scent of banana bread wafts around us like a hug.
As much as I want to lecture her further, I can sense that it’s not what she needs at the moment. She needs someone to be there for her, to let her know she’s not as alone as she might feel.
“Look,” I say, “we’ve both had a hell of a day. Why don’t you eat and take a shower and get some rest? We can talk more about this tomorrow.”
Thea nods again and sniffles. “That sounds good,” she says quietly as she wipes at her nose.
I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Sit,” I say, motioning at the table. I grab two paper plates from the other side of the kitchen. I join her and hand her a plate as she opens the pizza box. We each grab a slice from the box and begin to eat quietly, Thea picking off the vegetables.
They say actions speak louder than words, and I just hope that for today, this is enough.