19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Maci
R andi and Liv arrive at Nana’s around nine the next morning. I can’t decide if the breakfast tacos they bring from my favorite restaurant or the ‘Good morning, Firecracker. I hope you have a great day.’ text from Sutton has me in a better mood.
The morning is fairly warm, especially after the cooler weekend, and the three of us decide to eat on the back porch, sitting side-by-side on the wooden swing with Liv in the middle.
“I always loved this yard.” Randi crumples the foil from her last taco in her lap. “Believe it or not, Stephanie and I used to play down there. There’s a creek further back and we used to run barefoot all the way from the house. Those sticker burrs hurt!” She laughs at her historical pain.
The thought of Stephanie and Randi playing as children brings a smile to my face. Stephanie was never one to play with me, except for maybe a tea party, which is fitting considering her affinity for decorum. Imagining her carefree in the brush is difficult.
“How did I never know that?” Liv asks, staring into the tree line as if she can see through the thick of it to the place her mom speaks of.
Randi shrugs then bounces her eyebrows at us. “Aunt Stephanie and I got into enough trouble as kids, I think Nana made a point to keep you two busy up here when you were around. ”
Liv turns sharply to me. “Speaking of, what happened to the tire swing?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I noticed it was missing last week.” I continue to chew my lip, thinking of who Stephanie was as a child or young adult. Randi must have known a much different version than I have.
“She wasn’t always the way she is.” Randi seems to read my thoughts. I look past Liv to my aunt. Her eyes meet mine. “Stephanie was care-free. I was the practical one and she was the free spirit.”
My eyebrows jump.
“After she separated from your father, I think she made it her mission to never make a mistake again. And Mom was always on her about going back to him.”
“Nana liked him?”
Randi nods with a shrug and turns back to the tree line. “Yeah. He was handsome and smitten with Stephanie. And he was a good dad. He doted on you. He was polite to Mom.” She’s quiet for a moment, letting her words soak in. “Maybe they didn’t do things the way others in town would, but they loved each other. I never understood what could’ve changed Stephanie’s mind so fast, and neither did Mom. Our confusion didn’t help her, but she wouldn’t open up to us. It was a loss all the way around.”
I allow my thoughts to wander. Stephanie has always been secretive about my father and I muse at how much of a role he played in her becoming who she is today.
Liv stands and gathers our trash. I follow, stretching my arms over my head.
We file inside through the screen door of the laundry room and head into the kitchen. “I’ve done the laundry besides Nana’s room and tried to get everything in its place, so to speak, so it’s easier to go through.”
Randi hugs me around the shoulders. “Where do you want to start? Upstairs?”
Liv tangles her fingers with mine. “That’s a great place to start.”
We follow Randi up the stairs into the loft. She smiles, looking around the space, lit by a picture window on the back wall. The sun rises on the front of the house, so the natural light is muted currently. In one corner sits a desk with an older-style laptop on it. Books rest on the reading chair, frequently lit by the lamp on a telephone table beside it.
“Mom always loved this space.” She doesn’t add any detail as her eyes gloss over each piece of the room.
Liv steps to the desk. “Was Nana working on anything?” She slides her fingers along the open keyboard.
“I don’t think so,” I say, knowing the question is directed at me since Nana and I used to frequently chat about work. She would tell me about any editing she was working on and I would tell her all about my photo shoots. “She didn’t mention anything recent the last time we spoke. And no one brought it up at the service. I guess it’s possible.”
“I always wanted to hang out with Nana in here while she was proofreading, or just reading.” Liv plops down and kicks her feet up on the ottoman. “Oof. This could use recovering.” Randi joins in our laughter.
“Wouldn’t this space be perfect with a few low couches and a coffee table between? Maybe a bookcase along the window?” I gesture to the back wall.
One of Liv’s eyebrows quirks and she purses her lips. Randi watches our interaction silently. She wanders over to the window and peers into the backyard. “Yes, I think you’re right. It has great natural lighting and it’s open to the downstairs. Separate but not.”
“Yep,” Liv says, pushing out of the chair.
I take in my aunt. “Are you going to sell the house? ”
Unbothered, she smiles softly. “I have a ton of wonderful memories here. But I love my house. I have no need for this place. And it wouldn’t feel right to be here. Not permanently. Although, it will definitely feel weird not to have holidays here anymore. Or random dinners with Mom.”
Liv and I exchange a wide-eyed look. She voices our combined question. “Who’s going to host holidays now?”
Holidays have been a sore spot for as long as I can remember. I spend the days trying to hide away with my relatives, ignoring Stephanie and Alan. Sometimes Alan would have to work and Stephanie would be even more put out. Would they even bother coming without Nana as a buffer? Would I?
A piece of me hopes my aunt won’t offer, because I can’t imagine Stephanie will.
No one speaks for a minute. “Mom?” Liv prompts.
“I’m happy to host. I don’t know how special that would feel in my little place, but it wouldn’t bother me.” She chews her lip for a minute. “I guess holidays are going to take some adjusting, aren’t they?” Her glassy eyes bounce between Liv and me.
After a moment, she keeps going. “I’m not in a hurry to sell. We have months before it’s even an option, but it doesn’t make sense to let it fall into disrepair when it still has so much left to give.”
“I guess we need to make a list,” Liv says, breaking the silence after a moment. “This furniture can go. Right?”
Randi and I nod.
“I don’t know how Nana sat there for very long. That is one uncomfortable chair.” She stretches deeply then joins Randi at the window.
“Mom always wanted to add a fire pit out there. ”
“I think it’s a great idea.” I indicate a large oak tree on the left of the yard. “That tree would be great with a bench seat around the base, right? It’s such a great space for entertaining.”
Randi and Liv exchange a look. “Yes. It is.”
Part of me doesn’t want to encourage them, but the question tumbles out anyway. “What?”
“Oh nothing,” Randi says, grinning as she turns away from the window and heads for the bathroom.
“Not you, too,” I call, following as Liv snickers behind me.
Not long after Randi and Liv leave, Izzy calls.
“Hey,” I answer happily.
“Hey. You busy?” Izzy’s serious tone has me curious what could be wrong.
“No. Randi and Liv just left. What’s going on?” I make my way to the front porch swing. With force, I push the swing backward, but as it sways and picks up momentum, I use my feet to keep us from slamming into the front wall.
“I wanted to talk to you about Leah.”
“Leah?”
“Yeah. We couldn’t talk yesterday, but I think we need to sit down and have a heart to heart with her. I’m worried about her drinking.”
My mind flies through my interactions with Leah over the last week and a half. The multiple visits to bars, the drinking at brunch. Separately, these things aren’t cause for concern, but mimosas with brunch aren’t the norm for us. The last time we spent so many nights in a short period of time at bars was when we were all turning twenty-one. With a few years of drinking under our belts, it’s not typically at the forefront of our interactions. And she’s never gotten dangerously drunk like she did recently. I blamed it partially on my inattentiveness, but when I look at the whole picture, Izzy may be onto something.
“I think something’s going on.”
The swinging isn’t going to cut it. I stand and begin pacing the length of the porch. “I hadn’t given it much thought until now, but you’re right.”
Leah’s family has its share of drama. Far different from mine. Her mother, single and raising two daughters, has struggled with substance abuse for as long as I’ve known Leah. Her sister, only a couple years older than the three of us, has several children with different fathers. Both women seem happy to take whatever the men in their lives are willing to provide for the time being, while Leah has always distanced herself from their choices. Unfortunately, she’s not always above self-medicating and I feel guilty for not checking in with her in recent weeks. Not the way she needed.
“Has she said anything about her mom or sister?” My voice is quiet and guilt-ridden.
In pure Izzy fashion, she calls me out before I can spiral too far. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had plenty going on and I’ve been out of town. And you know Leah doesn’t ask for help. But I do think we should find a time to talk to her together.”