13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Maci
M onday morning the air is crisp and carries a light fog. The back porch swing squeaks softly each time I rock it backward while I sip my coffee.
A squirrel launches from the tree nearest me and lands on the sad wooden railing around the porch. It halts movements, aside from the occasional swift flick of its tail, as two beady eyes take me in. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. If I say boo the poor thing is liable to fall off the railing backward.
Instead, deeming me a non-threat, it hops from the railing and runs along the edge of the house’s facade. My eyes follow suit, taking in a few broken boards of the porch and the exterior which yearns for a good pressure washing.
The squirrel finds a gap between the porch and the house, and jumps below the platform. My attention returns to the backyard. It’s a perfect space for entertaining. The tire swing in the front yard would agree if it still hung.
My cell phone shouting out a Katy Perry song pierces the still of the morning air as Leah’s name flashes on the screen. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I sing-song through the phone.
“Ha. Ha.” Leah’s voice isn’t amused. “You forget, I wake up early every day I have to be at the store. ”
“You’re going to make it in after all?” Coffee almost spills over the rim of my cup when I push the swing back too forcefully, making me stop short.
“Ugh, yes. I’m on my way now. Stupid responsibility shit.” We giggle together like we did when summers were full of pool days and boys. “What are you up to?” she asks.
“I’m enjoying a gorgeous morning on the porch swing.”
“That’s going to be hard to say goodbye to.” Leah’s tone is somber, reflecting the depth of losing Nana all over again. So much of my history belongs to this house, this porch, this yard.
“It is.”
“I didn’t call you to bum you out. In fact, I called to fix things.”
“Fix things?” I parrot.
“Yes. You need a do-over.”
I blink. “I don’t.”
“You do!” I set my things on the railing and begin pacing. Leah’s car door slams in the background. “Your night out fell flat. You didn’t even get to ride his bike!”
I breathe a laugh. “I know you were hoping to distract me from everything going on and it worked for a bit. I’m not upset about what happened. Some experiences are just not as good. I envy your ability to embrace your sexuality that way. It just won’t be how I embrace mine.”
There’s a long pause. “I just feel bad. I’ve had some really satisfying experiences.” Her grin colors her words.
“And I’m glad. But don’t feel bad. I don’t. I’m not upset.”
“Ok. Well, if you change your mind, I’m down for a redo. I still think we need to go again. Maybe we need to head into town.”
“San Antonio has a bigger selection, but burying myself in drinks and dancing won’t solve my problems. ”
“Ok, but someone buried inside—"
“Get to work. I’ll consider it.” I interrupt her train of thought as her keys clatter. She’s unlocking the storefront in the nick of time, because I have no desire to continue this conversation.
Fully caffeinated, I run laundry and clean up the house. It’s practical, but I’m only delaying the inevitable. Set to return for brunch this weekend, I need to get home to send proof packages sent out for the Halloween mini-sessions.
My two-hour drive is over in a blink, lost in thoughts of the funeral, Nana’s house, and all that remains to settle the estate. My bags hardly make it through the door before I drop them to the floor and toss my purse on the bistro table. The one-bedroom apartment feels especially tiny after spending several days in Nana’s house. Less cozy and more cramped.
With more aggression than necessary, I open the curtains. Natural light usually helps brighten the space, but today it does nothing for my mood.
An unfamiliar noise from the front door draws my attention.
Orange paper peeks between the door and weather stripping. I pull the paper out for inspection. A reminder of my lease renewal in December. It goes on the bistro table with the other things to handle this week.
After unpacking, I sprawl on the living room floor, using the coffee table as a desk to edit the last of the Halloween mini-session photos. I could invest in a proper desk, but it doesn’t feel like a priority.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been working when my phone rings. Untangling myself from files, I dart for the dining table to retrieve it from my purse. Izzy’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey!” My grin is huge. It’s been like I’m missing a limb with Izzy in Hawaii the last week. Not so much because I see my friends regularly—because it’s an area we need to improve—but because we are often the three amigos, instead of only Leah and me. “Are you calling me from Hawaii?”
“Hey, babe.” Izzy’s voice immediately relaxes me. “Yes, I’m having a slow morning in the condo and I wanted to check on you.”
“Okay, but first I need to hear about your trip.”
Reluctantly, Izzy fills me in on everything from the elegant condo her family is staying in, to local cuisine and gorgeous beaches, to details I don’t need like her brother hooking up with townies. But having the focus off me is appreciated. I’m so proud when she tells me all about learning to surf.
“You’re a total badass.” I easily picture her atop wild waves on a steady board, her ice-blond hair and pearly whites gleaming in the sun.
The fact my connection with Izzy and Leah survived the trials of high school, adding in long-distance friendships, is a miracle not lost on me. While Leah is a free spirit, willing to try anything, Izzy is everything grounded and thoughtful. Each of us compliments a part of the others.
“It’s easier than I thought it would be. I wish you guys could have come, but it’s been a trip to remember for sure.” She never lets compliments go to her head.
“I’m so glad you’re having fun.”
Her voice turns somber. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for the funeral. ”
“I told you not to worry about it. I know you would have been here to support me if you could, but there’s nothing you could have done to change what happened.”
She’s quiet for a few moments. I exit my sliding glass door to the laundry room on my patio. “Are you back at your apartment?”
I begin moving clothes into the dryer. “Yeah, but it’s weird.”
“Oh?” Her voice lacks surprise. Izzy’s ability to tune in to me is uncanny. It’s how I imagine twins to be. Maybe sisters, but I never had one to know the difference.
“I think my emotions are just all over with everything going on. It feels like I should be at Nana’s.”
“Is anything going on today?”
“No. I’m supposed to meet Randi and Liv again this weekend.”
“I’m sure once it’s all settled you’ll feel better.” She pauses for a second before adding, “Unless you keep it.”
I accidentally drop a pair of jeans onto the ground and whisper a curse.
“No?” She hears it for what it is. A distraction from the topic. In true Izzy fashion, she doesn’t relent.
“No.” She waits a few beats for me to continue. I slam the dryer door shut instead and start the cycle.
She tries again. “So you don’t want to keep the house?”
“It’s not up to me.”
“It’s not.” It’s not a question, but the skepticism is clear. Even from two thousand miles away, I can feel her pointed look. The way her deep blue eyes always stare until you spill truths you didn’t know you were withholding.
“You’re right. It’s probably because everything is looming.”
She ignores the last comment. “Nana’s house was a second home to you. ”
I sweep the empty concrete porch. “That’s true. I just don’t know what it will feel like to not have it as a haven anymore.”
“What’s happening to it?”
The sliding door eases open silently as I continue. “I don’t know exactly. Nana stipulated in the will that it goes to Randi one hundred percent, while Stephanie is married to Alan.”
There’s a deep intake of breath from Izzy.
“The focus is on clearing it out, so I doubt Randi will keep it. And I can’t imagine Stephanie will leave Alan.”
Izzy lets my comment hang. Sometimes I think she should’ve been a therapist instead of a dental hygienist, the way she helps people get to the answers they seek on their own. “All of that aside, would you want it?”
How could I not want to keep the place that always felt the most like home? Where so many of my best memories hailed from? But I have a business and a life in Austin. Things I’ve worked very hard for. I’ve managed to nearly extricate Stephanie and Alan from that life, a goal I plan to fulfill once all is said and done.
“I don’t need to hold on to a house that’s just going to sit.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she says lovingly. There’s more she’s not saying. “I’m headed out to the beach for another lesson. I can’t believe I only have three days left.”
“Have fun! Before long you’ll be elbow-deep in dirty mouths again,” I say, referencing her career as a dental hygienist. My laugh stops abruptly, when I remember Hank. “Oh my god! Speaking of mouths—”
“Oh, this should be good,” Izzy teases.
I grin but continue. “The lawyer handling the probate has the most gorgeous smile. And eyes. But you’d definitely love his smile.”
“I do love a nice smile,” she agrees. “Alright, gotta run. Love you. ”
“Love you, too. Don’t forget brunch on Sunday!”
Aside from our usual texts throughout the week, I hear once more from my best friends when Leah calls me on Wednesday to discuss an encore visit to The Spur.
“I told you, I don’t need a do-over.” I’m preparing for two family sessions this afternoon. It feels good to be using my camera again. In some ways it’s an extension of me.
“I know, I know.” Leah seems ready to argue all day about this. “We won’t be on the prowl! Just two besties dancing.”
My fingers tap against the camera case I’m readying. I do like dancing.
“Come on. You know you want to. When was the last time you went dancing?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a terrible influence, you know that?”
Something akin to a slap comes through the line. “So…yes?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
She squeals. “Yes! We’re going to have so much fun.”
I hum a response. “Don’t forget we have brunch Sunday. I’ll come in Saturday and we can get together, but you don’t get to bail on brunch.”
“Scout’s honor.” She’s entirely too chipper.
“You weren’t a scout.” Our laughter mingles through the phone. “Ok, I have to leave soon so I can actually make some money. Text you later.”
“Ok. Love you.”
“You, too.”