Chapter 15 #2
“I think we’re going for a hike, so we’re turning right back around,” I try to say it with a smile. “Right, Alex?” He looks surprised by the turn of events, seeing as we don’t have a hike planned, but he hides the look from his sister surprisingly well.
“Yup.”
“I was hoping you’d stay for Sunday dinner…
” I want to roll my eyes at her; just so done with this dance.
It’s clear that I’m never going to be enough to be included.
I don’t know if it’s because I don’t ooze rich-people vibes, or we just don’t have anything in common, or maybe she thinks I’m not good enough for her brother.
I don’t know, but I’m done trying to care.
“How about this,” I say, overly chipper. “I’ll just take Delta home, and Alex can stay for dinner?” I look between the two of them. Britain’s eyes go large, and Alex’s brow furrows.
“You’re being rude, Brit.” He stands, grabbing Delta’s leash off the entry table. “Thanks for watching the dog,” he says a bit insincerely, grabbing my hand and the leash to go.
“I’m sorry, Em,” he says as he walks me to the door, but I just shrug. What else can you do? I don’t have any girlfriends, and maybe there’s a reason why. It always seems like I’m the odd man out when it comes to being “one of the girls.”
Or maybe I just don’t like other women in general. There’s my mom. And then there’s my sister. Maybe I’m the problem.
We walk out into the crisp fall day, the sun shining, the breeze blowing, and I get over it.
“I still want pancakes, for the record,” I tell Alex as he opens my door, then Delta’s too.
“Any flavor you want.”
We have chocolate chip pancakes because it’s been a while since Alex has gone to the store for fresh produce. So, while I read and try to catch up on school work, he does a grocery run. It feels hugely domestic of us. I do, however, have plans to reward him when he gets home later.
The doorbell ringing surprises me. There’s a gate, so if anyone makes it to the door, they must have the code. Delta and I unfurl ourselves from the snuggly ball we were made into on the couch.
Going on my tiptoes, I check the peephole as Delta sits beside me, whining. For a split second, I think of him. My heart rate increases, and my palms grow damp.
But it’s not him.
I open the door, and Britain extends a large vase of flowers in my direction.
Tentatively, I accept the vase, expecting her to tell me they’re for Alex or some crap.
“I’m sorry,” she says. I stand, holding the flowers, with the door open, and wait for the rest. An explanation, something.
“Is that it?” I ask as politely as I can.
“Can I come in?” she asks. I hold the door and motion her in. “Is Alex here?” I shake my head no. “Already back from your hike?” She sort of laughs at the end.
“There was no hike, Britain. I was just trying to save you from being uncomfortable in my presence.” My jaw is tense, my molars grinding together, and I’m ready for her to leave.
“It’s…hard. To be around you. And it’s not because of you. It’s just because of who you are to him.” This sounds like a ‘her problem,’ not a ‘me problem.’
“I guess it’s hard to feel like it’s not because of me. You know?” Maybe she doesn’t get it. I bet she has whole gaggles of friends. Her wedding party was probably eight people deep, with a long line of backups. She gives off cool-girl, you-can’t-sit-with-us vibes in the worst way.
Britain rubs her hands together and shifts uncomfortably. “Jess is my best friend.” Well, fuck. “It feels like I’m betraying her even when you just…come over.” The pain in my throat is a full burn. My mind spins, recalling a memory.
That’s just some random friend who works for my sister.
God, you’re just so pretty.
Go home, Ella.
“She has short, dark hair. Really pretty?” Britain nods. “Okay.” That’s all I can say because…what? The fuck? I end up sucking my cheeks in, trying to hold back a tear. He drove us over there that day, knowing Jess would be there.
Did Blanks take me to dinner that night because he knew she’d be there too?
I almost forgot that I was here to make someone else feel like shit.
Does Alex even love me? Or is that to make her feel bad, too?
“I’m sorry, Britain. I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t stop existing, but I can stay away from you as much as possible.”
“Emma, I’m so sorry. That’s–no. Please accept my apology, and I hope you’ll please accept an invitation to dinner. You’re my family, too. And I’ve forgotten that. So, really, I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Sure,” I say, mentally having checked out of the conversation.
“Okay…” she trails off awkwardly.
“I should get back to studying,” I point to the living room, where my textbooks are on the sofa waiting for me.
“Got it.”
I quickly set the vase on a side table and lead her back to the door.
“You’ll come for dinner sometime soon?” No.
“Definitely, just let us know.” I hope she’s just bullshitting because I definitely don’t want to have dinner with them. Wondering all night if they’re comparing me to her. The petite woman with flawless skin, classically gorgeous, who dresses impeccably. I look like a slob compared to her. Jesus.
I smooth out the front of my henley and self-consciously berate my tired leggings and shirt. What does Alex even see in me? Nothing. Just a means to an end, I suppose. I was just the wrong person in the right place at the right time.
“C-can I give you a hug goodbye?” Brit opens her arms awkwardly, and I move in for the most uncomfortable hug of my life.
When she finally releases me, I give a toothless smile and open the door. She gives a wave and a smile that looks like it clawed its way out of the dark to be here.
Once I can finally shut the door, I lean back against it. The inside of the house doesn’t feel warm and cozy anymore. It feels cold and empty. I head to the mudroom to grab a jacket and beanie when the flashy invite hanging on the pinboard catches my attention.
Mrs. and Mr. Palomino are cordially invited to the wedding reception for Damian Scott and Jessica DiAngelo.
Is this why he wants me back? I finger the edge of the invite on handmade paper, feeling envious of everything she is and I’m not.
My wedding…was laughable in my thrift store dress.
Jesus. All I have to show for the day is a photo, singular…
and I don’t even have it. I know they took one photo, but I’ve never seen it.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this sort of misery. I hang my head against the wall and fight the urge to cry because I gave him the only thing I had of value. I told myself he wouldn’t hurt me. I told myself I was doing this for the money. Lies.
I’m an idiot.
“You wanna go for a walk, Delta?” I call the dog, not realizing he’s never left my side. “You’re such a good boy. Let’s walk.” I slip his lead on, then head out the mudroom door. We head for the clearing and straight to the hidden cove pathway.
We go nice and slow since it’s been a while since I’ve walked the trail. It’s slightly overgrown, at least compared to the last time I was on it. I wonder if Alex isn’t using it much.
It’s mid-afternoon, and the sun is just past the middle of the sky, sending beams of sunlight shooting horizontally off the damp trees. I inhale the earthen scent, waiting for relief to find me from the turning in my gut. But it doesn’t come.
I wonder what he really thought when I told him I was a virgin? I cringe.
What was he thinking when I told him I was used by dealers? Shame gnaws at my insides.
Maybe he isn’t out getting groceries; instead, he’s running away. I laugh out loud, and Delta looks back at me. I could just picture him at Jess’ house, knocking on the door. Begging for her to take him back.
And then I remember her at Coltons that night. The way she danced like no one was watching. The way she tried to bury her pain in — oh my god — the brothers had been there that night. That’s where I remembered them from. Jesus. Were they all in on it?
Like an arrow straight through the chest, I remember her crying, then laughing hysterically, and how bad I felt for her because she was so obviously dying inside.
She was dying on the inside. And he was dying on the outside.
Alex isn’t dying for me. No one is. It was likely no one ever would.
When we get to the boulder, I don’t climb it to sit and view the lake. Instead, I stand and stare at the spot that I thought was our hidden world. Where the secrets were spilled, and the bond was forged. I thought I was special.
But I’m just a bandaid.
And she’s the cure.