Chapter Eight
Lawliss
Driving to my family’s estate, my mind drifts back to a week ago. Since I came home, all I think about is the night I spent with Eddie. The way he looked at me, Gosh! It was as if I could hang the moon. The feel of his hands, his tongue, his voice on me. Every damn day since then, it’s like he’s engraved himself in me, so deeply that I barely even think about Derrick, my ex-husband.
When I woke up that morning, he was sound asleep. So peaceful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. And in the clear light of day, without the liquid courage coursing through my veins, it all felt a little surreal. I never thought I’d be with him. Eddie always seemed so far out of reach, too wild, too untouchable.
I don’t regret it, but I can’t shake the memory of that document he gave me to sign. I know it’s crazy that I didn’t ask more questions, but Eddie has never done anything to hurt me.
He’s always put himself in harm’s way for me—like the time he fought my prom date without even knowing the details or the night he carried me through the rain to shield my broken heart. I think that was when the crush I had on him first began. That trust was what led me to sign without hesitation. And yet... what could he possibly need from me that he couldn’t just ask outright?
The family estate looms before me; its familiar shape is a reminder of the life I used to live before Derrick. It’s sprawling and grand, yet it doesn’t intimidate me the way it does others. To me, it’s a safe place.
My eyes find the old sycamore tree by the driveway, its branches spreading wide like welcoming arms. I remember climbing that tree with Lauren, our bare knees scraped and dirty, and my father’s voice calling us down to dinner. Even now, the sight of it helps me breathe a little easier.
Time to face the music with my family. I haven’t seen them for over a month, which is new.
My first instinct was to leave when I first discovered Derrick cheating. Since then, I’ve ignored my family most of the time in the last month, trying to make decisions that wouldn’t be influenced by them. In the end, my sisters convinced me to go out.
I pause just inside the foyer, letting the familiarity settle over me. For a second, I feel small again, safe. But then my mind flickers back to Eddie, the way he pushed me against the wall, the way he kissed me, and then to that signed document I still can’t understand. I shake the thoughts off and press forward into the family I’ve missed but kept at a distance.
A smile slips through when a tiny body rushes down from the stairs to hug me.
“Auntie Laaawliss!” my four-year-old niece squeals, stretching my name as usual. I crouch down, laughing as I hug her tightly and kiss her cheeks.
“I miss you.”
“I missed you too, cupcake.” I breathe her in, taking in the faint, sweet scent of lemon that I’ve always loved.
“Mama says you travel. Did you bring gifts? Where are my gifts?”
“Janette!” Aria chides, and I chuckle. My sister’s been trying to teach her to filter her words, while I’ve been encouraging her to say whatever comes to mind.
“Of course I brought you gifts.” I drop my hand in my bag and she eyes me while I slowly pull out the box that contained the Miniature Tea Set. She squealed with her legs wrapped around my waist, making me laugh more. She gives me a peg on my cheeks, then gets down to take her gift.
“Thank you!” I watch Janette skip off with her gift, her laughter filling the house. But even here, in the warmth of home, my mind drifts back to Eddie. To that damn document, I signed without thinking. What have I gotten myself into?
“You’re spoiling her,” Aria says as she steps forward to hug me. “You know that, right?” I laugh, but it fades quickly. “I know, I know. It’s just so good to see everyone again.” I expect to receive a hug from everyone today, well, except from my mother, who isn’t all about physical touch to show love just like me. But unlike her, I accept the hugs and sometimes initiate them.. rarely. Yeah. like when you jumped on Eddie… Oh.. OH.. I did do that too.
“It’s good to have you back,” she adds when we break the hug.
“Am I the last to arrive?”
“Elisa is running late.” She leads me to the living room, where kids' toys are scattered on the floor and my twin is sitting on the couch with a newspaper in hand. My eyes scan the room and a sense of calm fills me. Various framed photos of all of us sisters on the mantel. I spot Mom in the dining room bustling around, going in and out of the kitchen. What's going on with her? I begin to walk in that direction but my dad's sweet voice stops me in my tracks.
“Is that my baby girl?”
The familiar sound of his voice has me looking up. He’s standing at the bottom stairs with a wide grin and open arms. A hint of silver glints in his hair, making him look more distinguished. I feel my chest tighten and something unknots in me as I hurry toward him, a surge of warmth pushing me into his embrace.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he murmurs, pulling me in close and resting his chin on my head. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and for a moment, I let myself be a ten-year-old again. His shirt smells faintly of leather gloves and oil and his voice is like a balm, soothing in ways I didn’t know I needed. “Been keeping us all waiting, haven’t you?”
I smile, though he can’t see it. “Had to make an entrance.”
He chuckles, the low, familiar sound reverberating through his chest. “You picked that from your sisters I’m sure.” He leans back just enough to get a good look at my face. “How’re you holding up, really?” His hands remain on my shoulders, steady and solid, like they’ve always been.
“I’m… okay,” I manage, though my voice sounds far from convincing. “One day at a time.”
He nods, his eyes softening. “Well, you know I’m here. I’m a stubborn old man, Lawliss; you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
I let out a laugh. “Good to know, Daa.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “That’s my girl. Just remember, nothing you bring back here is too heavy for us. You don’t have to carry it alone. That goes to the rest of you girls.” We all nod.
“How does it feel like to be the only man in the family?”
“ELISA YAYRA DUA!” My mother’s head pops out and my sister drops her bag. “Oops… Sorry Maa,” I step away from my father's embrace and he chuckles when Elisa jumps into his arms. “How are you, old man?” she whispers “I heard that,” my Mom shouts from the dining room and my dad laughs. He leans in to kiss Elisa on the cheeks, knowing very well she hates that.
"Eeew, dad,” she says and we all laugh. As Elisa finally lets go of Dad, I feel my nerves settle a little. For a moment, everything feels right, like it used to before Derrick, before the secrets. My father’s laughter echoes around us, and I catch my mother’s eye from across the room. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
We start having small talk among ourselves when my mom calls out to tell us dinner is ready, then we move to the dining table, where my mom continues to bustle in and out of the kitchen.
“Is Mom cooking? What happened to the chef?” I whisper to my twin, Lauren, who was sitting to the left of me.
“You tell me, big sis. You finally broke her down. That’s two of her daughters now.”
“I heard that.” Aria, responds and Lauren fake gasps. I shake my head. After my mom takes her seat beside my dad, opposite us we take our seats, and as usual, my mother is last, smoothing her dress as she sits down. She’s never the type to join in on the banter, but tonight she seems even more reserved, watching us with an extra layer of scrutiny. We start to eat and the room quiets, with only cutlery moving.
“Mom, are you cooking now?” I tease, glancing at the spread of dishes on the table. Lauren steps on my feet as a sign to stop me from talking but I ignore her and then ask, “What happened to the chef?”
My mother’s lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile, though there’s still that look in her eyes. “Don’t make a fuss about it. You know I like things done properly.”
“Properly?” I raise an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Elisa, who’s practically glowing with mischief from across the table. “You’re one chef’s apron away from being Martha Stewart, Mom.”
My dad chuckles, patting her hand, but I notice her fingers tighten slightly around his. A flicker of something crosses her face, almost too quick to catch, and she glances at me with a watchful expression.
“If you all would stop teasing and start eating, maybe we’d have time for dessert before midnight,” she says, dry but warm. I laugh, though her gaze lingers on me a little longer than usual, as if she’s sizing me up. For someone who’s always composed, she seems almost… cautious tonight.
“Come on, Lawliss,” my sister Elisa chimes in with a grin, “don’t pretend you’re not just as much of a perfectionist as Mom.”
I make a face. “There’s a difference between perfectionism and responsibility. One of us has to keep things in order around here.”
“Of course, our resident legal eagle,” Elisa says, rolling her eyes playfully. “No one would ever accuse you of bending the rules, unlike certain other family members.” She winks at me, fully embracing her role as the troublemaker.
Just as the laughter fades and I’m about to take a bite, I feel my mother’s gaze on me again, heavier this time. There’s a silence that stretches just a little too long. She opens her mouth as if to say something, then stops.
Finally, I break the tension. “Just say it.”
She raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Say what, exactly?”
“Say what you want to say, Maa.”
She studies me with a calm, assessing look. “What do you think I want to say?”
I set down my fork, meeting her gaze head-on. “I don’t know. You’ve been stealing glances so maybe you want to say, ‘I told you so.’”
The room goes quiet. Even Elisa, who usually has a quip ready, falls silent.
My mother’s lips press into a thin line, her expression unwavering. “Interesting. Why would you think that’s what I want to say? Is that what you’re saying to yourself?” She pauses, then lets out a soft scoff, almost more to herself than to me. “Is that why you stayed away for over a month? I thought you knew your family better… you knew me better.”
I swallow, feeling a prickle of irritation. “I don’t know, Maa. Your text messages lately have been… confusing. They don’t feel like they’re coming from the person I thought I knew. Pardon me for needing to step back and check the facts I’ve relied on my whole life.” She’s been sending mixed signal messages. Today is to ask how I am and tomorrow it’s to demand something of me. It’s so out of character.
She tilts her head, regarding me coolly. “Are you using me as a punching bag for your punching bag ex? Because I won’t accept that.”
I let out a dry, almost bitter laugh. “Oh, please. He’s the last thing on my mind.” and that's the truth.
She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You don’t say… And why’s that?”
“ENOUGH!” My father’s voice cuts through the tension, his tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it. The sound reverberates through the dining room, startling us all into silence.
He looks between us, his eyes a mix of frustration and quiet resolve. “This is supposed to be a homecoming, not a tribunal.” He glances at my mother, softening slightly. “Let’s give each other a little grace tonight.”
My mother looks down at her plate, composing herself with a single steady breath. She doesn’t respond, but her shoulders relax a fraction. My father reaches over, resting a hand on her arm, and the moment passes, though the words hang between us, unspoken but lingering.
I exhale, trying to shake off the tension as we return to our meal, but the taste of it lingers, a reminder that things between us are far from resolved.