16. Gray
Gray
My mother’s house is in Brooklyn Heights. I bought it for her after I sold my first business, and she’s lived there ever since. Dad had died only five years before that, and she previously lived in a tiny apartment she could barely make rent on.
Now she has a five-bedroom house that accommodates all of her children if necessary.
Thankfully, I don’t have to come by here all that much, especially not with all four of my sisters here at once.
Jesus, give me strength.
“Did you lose your phone?”
I close the door behind me, giving my mom, Donna, a quick kiss hello. I hand her the plant I bought her to add to her collection. She has hundreds of the damned things all over the house, but arriving empty-handed is not an option.
I look up at my sister, Lola, who is standing in the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed, glaring at me.
She’s small compared to the rest of my sisters, but she makes up for it in attitude. I adore her, but she is the most opinionated woman on the planet. Her husband-to-be, Martin, must have the patience of a saint.
“Yes, I did lose it. Deliberately. I dropped it into the aquarium after I received my eighteenth text from you about the wedding. Sorry, I’m now unreachable until June.”
She huffs out a breath, flicking her hair over her shoulder theatrically.
“I was only asking about candles, Gray. It’s the last thing, and then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”
“If only I could believe you,” I murmur, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she hugs me. She pulls back quickly, pouting like an eight-year-old.
“I know the money’s spiraling,” she says softly. “I’ve been telling Martin that we’ll go with the smaller of the two venues, and that’ll save a bunch of money.”
My chest tightens at the pleading look in her eyes, and I feel like an utter asshole.
“Get whatever you want, Lola, I told you that, just stop bothering me with inane questions.”
“But I can’t just spend your money without explaining what it’s all for! I could buy a six-foot ice sculpture or something, and then on the day you’ll see it and completely freak out.”
“Is the ice sculpture of me?” I ask, giving her a lopsided smile. “Because if it is, that’s fine.”
“Wait until you hear about the ninety yards of ribbon she’s ordered,” Martin says loudly, sauntering out from the kitchen. “Not to mention the cookies with my face on them.”
I shake my head at him as he offers me a plate of brownies.
“You’re all making me wish I were an only child,” I say, selecting the biggest brownie and pointing it at him. “Get the bigger venue. I know you prefer it. Just no more Pinterest boards. I’m begging.”
“See? I told you he didn’t care,” Martin says to Lola, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they wander away, bickering amicably.
Martin is a great guy. He’s the perfect counterpoint to Lola’s chaos. The last boyfriend she was serious about was an abusive piece of shit, and I’d never been so happy when they split up. Compared to him, Martin is perfect in every way.
I poke my head around the living room door, watching Maddy and Erica, the middle sisters, chattering together enthusiastically, their heads bowed over Erica’s phone.
All my sisters are younger than me but there was a bit of a gap between Maddy and the youngest two. Lola is thirty-four; Maddy, thirty; Erica, twenty-four; and Carrie, twenty-one. I don’t see Carrie anywhere and assume that she’s hiding somewhere, avoiding our mother.
I look back at my mom. She’s bustling away in the kitchen and catches my eye, beckoning me over. As usual, she’s wearing an apron, and there’s enough food for an army cooking on the stove.
“You’re here now, so you can tell me yourself,” my mother says enthusiastically. “When can you go out with Sarah? She’s lovely and you’re going to want to marry her the second you meet her.”
I swallow the mouthful of brownie I’m chewing and count slowly to five. I haven’t been in the house for more than three minutes, and she’s already marrying me off.
I hate everything about my mother’s attitude towards my love life.
Since the end of my relationship with Leyla, three years ago, my mom hasn’t dropped the topic.
I’ve told her I’m not interested in dating a thousand times—I’m just way too busy with work right now.
But I know it’s futile arguing with her; she won’t listen anyway.
One of the main reasons Leyla and I broke up was because she couldn’t deal with how much I worked.
She called it my “obsession.” She wanted to be my main priority, and it pissed her off that she wasn’t.
I couldn’t blame her, but I also couldn’t seem to change.
And ever since my dad died, I’ve felt a responsibility to my mother and sisters that I just can’t shake.
The combination of work and family didn’t leave much room for her.
Now, I try to rein in my anger. My sisters, I can handle, but my mother simply won’t take no for an answer.
If you tell her you don’t want to do something, she’ll just keep bugging you until you eventually get so tired of arguing that you agree.
It’s gotten worse lately, too. She’s uncompromising and pushy, and the fact that I’m the only person standing in the huge kitchen shows me that she’s already pissed off everyone else in the house.
“The fifteenth is fine,” I say flatly. “Sarah, was it?”
“She’s Evelyn’s daughter.”
“I don’t know who that is,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
She slams her wooden spoon down, looking back at me and putting her hand on her hip. My tone was even and unemotional, but somehow, I’ve pissed her off.
“I don’t ask for much, Gray. Do you want to die alone?”
“I’m thirty-five, Mom.”
“I’ll tell her the fifteenth, then. Was that so hard? Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth with you.”
I finish the rest of my brownie, glancing behind me at a movement on the landing, and notice my sister Carrie creeping upstairs. I keep watching, checking which room she walks into before I turn back to my mom.
“Do you need help with anything?”
“No, no, leave it all to me, as usual,” she gripes.
“I’m here, Mom, and I’m asking if I can help.”
She waves me off, huffing out an irritated breath, and I follow Carrie, feeling as if I’m eight years old again.
I creep upstairs, hoping my mom doesn’t come out and see me moving like a panther over the carpet, and tiptoe into the room Carrie disappeared into.
She’s sitting on the window seat, and my chest aches when I see the drying tears on her cheeks.
“Oh fuck, what happened?” I whisper, closing the door and going to sit beside her. She tucks her feet up beneath her, looking so young it makes my heart hurt.
“Ugh, you know…” she murmurs. “Just Mom.”
“What did she say?”
Carrie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
It’s dark brown and pretty short, and she usually wears elaborate earrings.
Two books dangle from her ears with an orange dragon coiled around each one.
Her sweater is baggy and hangs off her in unflattering folds.
She’s had a problem with her weight since she was little, and my mother almost always comments on it.
“She’s just so cruel all the time,” Carrie says, her voice low and angry. “It’s like she’s complimenting you, but then she comes out with this horrible shit that makes me feel about three inches tall.”
“What did she say?”
“Oh, the usual. That I’m looking ‘trimmer’ than I was at Christmas, and she’s proud of me for committing to being healthy. It’s such an obvious reference to me putting on weight over the holidays.”
“Try to ignore her,” I say, pulling her into a hug.
Carrie sniffs, wiping at her nose. “It just makes me not want to spend time here. Every time I do, I leave feeling like crap.”
I stay silent, trying to decide what to say.
I’ve learned not to tell Carrie she’s beautiful.
It used to be my default: just deny whatever she felt about herself, tell her she was thin when she wasn’t, tell her she looked pretty when she said she felt ugly.
It didn’t help. I’ve learned to stay quiet and just offer silent support.
It’s something Lola taught me after I put my foot in my mouth one too many times.
“I’m sorry she said that, Care. It sucks.”
“Has she told you about your date with Sarah yet? She’s been talking about it since breakfast. I wanted to scream at her at one point. You know she’s saying that you two are ‘meant to be’ already? You haven’t even met her.”
“Why have you been here since breakfast?” I ask.
“Um… I’m kind of living here right now. Temporarily.”
“What? Why didn’t you say? Care, you can’t live with Mom; she’ll drive you nuts. Come stay with me!”
She shakes her head. “You’ve already made way too many sacrifices for me, Gray. I have to save up and get out of this situation myself. It’s important. I appreciate the offer, but I have to fix this my way.”
“Did your roommate kick you out or something?” I ask, desperately trying to remember her last living situation. I vaguely remember she was rooming with another girl, but I don't remember her name.
“No. We… uh, had a falling out, and now it’s super awkward.” She sighs heavily, scratching her fingers through her hair. “I kind of kissed her, and she wasn’t into it.”
I blink as she meets my eyes.
Did my baby sister just come out to me?
“Oh. Are you sure that was it?”
“I think so.”
“She might just not have expected it. I know you’ve told me about her before… Anna, right?”
She gives me a rueful smile. “Annabelle, actually. Yeah. She’s so awesome, but I think she needs some space now. I’m gonna see if I can fix it. But I didn’t want to crowd her or make things worse.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t care that she’s a girl, do you? I knew you wouldn’t give a shit.”
“Couldn’t care less as long as you’re happy,” I say, pulling her into another hug. Her arms go around me, and I squeeze. “Do the others know?”
“No. I can’t be bothered with the whole ‘coming out’ shit. I’ll just bring a girl home one day, and everyone can deal with it.”
“I want to meet her first,” I say firmly, and she pulls back a little, looking up at me. “That way I can relentlessly pepper her with questions and insist that you should get married before the end of the year, like you do with my girlfriends.”
She pulls away, laughing as she dabs at her cheeks. They’re red, and my mom is going to comment on it.
“Anyone on the horizon for you?” she asks me.
“Absolutely not. No time for it. Come on, let’s go downstairs and bully Lola about her wedding colors. She picked a combination of rose gold and red.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope, and I think she’s wearing a yellow gown or something. I wasn’t really listening.”
It’s nice to hear Carrie really laughing. “Oh my god, I know you’re kidding, but maybe I should wear a yellow gown. That would clash with everything!”
As we head downstairs, I can hear my mother berating Erica about something. I slow my steps, protecting Carrie for as long as possible before the inevitable tirade begins.
It’s going to be a long night.