Chapter Five
Lily sits on the stoop, her fingers buried in her long hair. Eric is standing over her.
“What the hell?” my mother and I say in unison but for different reasons.
I lurch the minivan to a stop, causing Ruth to throw her arms out at the dashboard. I’m out of my car before my mother can
reprimand me for my lousy parking. As I slam the door and rush to my sister’s defense, Lily stands and turns to her husband,
her face set, the dog tucked to her hip like a football.
“Bridge, hey, come here.”
Over my shoulder, half-hidden by the rhododendron, I see Tim waving at me. Lily and Eric haven’t noticed their audience, even
with all the car door slamming, so I join my husband and step out of view. My mother slides in behind us.
“Is this what you weren’t telling me?” she asks in a stage whisper.
I ignore her as I peer around the bushes.
“You are being ridiculous, Lily,” Eric says loud enough for those of us in the cheap seats.
“She’s been sitting there for a while,” Tim whispers.
“Oh, fuck you, Eric!”
Tim continues his side commentary like David Attenborough observing antelope in the wild. “I asked her if she wanted help
with the suitcases, and she said she’d wait for you.”
Eric reaches his arms out, not to embrace his wife, not to fold her into his chest and beg her forgiveness. To grab the dog. “You can’t take Marigold!”
My sister twists away, putting her body between him and the little dog. “Are you kidding me right now? You cheat on US? You fucked around? You ruined EVERYTHING, and you think you are fit to be a father?”
That last comment has a broader meaning, but right now she is talking about the dachshund in the designer sweater. Marigold
was meant to be their practice baby. Acquired soon after they were married, Lily and Eric quickly became those dog parents. The ones who adorned their sausage-shape bundle in Fair Isle sweaters, fed her organic food, and slept with
her tucked between them every night. Everything was Goldie this and Goldie that. After the success of raising the most beautiful,
smartest, best dog in the world, they’d declared that parenting a human baby would be a piece of cake. Maybe, but they had
to get there first, and now, thanks to Eric, they would not.
“You’re not getting away with this,” Eric threatens.
Lily laughs a hollow, sorrowful laugh. My mother has had enough. She drops her swim bag and storms out from our hiding spot.
At barely five foot in her water moccasins, the six-two Eric is no match for her outrage. Still, I jump out behind her. I’m
not much taller than she is. The nickname “Big” surprises people who meet me standing next to my model-tall sister, but what
I lack in stature I make up for in maternal rage. With a show of strength in numbers, Tim steps in line beside me.
“That’s it,” Ruth bellows. “Out. Now. Go!”
Eric swings around and comes face-to-face with his mother-in-law.
Lily is not wrong; Mom and Eric have been thick as thieves on occasion.
It’s usually a game night, when they are both on the same side and ready to kick some ass.
Or a debate over which hockey team will make it to the playoffs.
(It’s hard to be a Rangers family in the middle of Devils territory.) But what my mother missed last night after Lily showed up at my door, or this morning in the chaos of shepherding everyone out of the house, or by my keeping shtum so I didn’t have to be the one to share what should have been Lily’s story to tell, she put together quickly, and she doesn’t need any further explanation.
“Mom, it’s okay,” Lily says, but the timbre of her voice tells us it’s not. Not by a long shot.
Her soon-to-be-dead (if I have anything to say about it) husband looks past my mother to me. Our last conversation on the
matter did not go well. He glances to his brother-in-law, the only other man who knows what it’s like to deal with Ackerman
women, but Tim’s crossed arms tell him he won’t get any support there. He takes another tack. “If you don’t come back to the
store by tomorrow, I’m going to assume you want out of the business too. I can manage there on my own. But don’t forget it’s
your sister’s investment you’ll be fucking with.”
“Why don’t you ask Willa to take an extra shift? She’s clearly got a knack for taking my place.”
My mother’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of our old babysitter’s name. Now she has all the pieces of this ugly jigsaw
puzzle. “I believe this is what you call trespassing right here,” she says. “I think I should call the police.”
We, Lily’s family, her real family, take a step forward. Eric’s nostrils flare. “This isn’t over. You can’t keep Marigold,
Lily. You can barely take care of yourself without your sister telling you what to do and rescuing you from every fuckup.”
He storms back to his car, as Lily, arms still full of dachshund, crumples onto the fieldstone steps at my front door.
He speeds off way too fast for this sleepy neighborhood, putting a theatrical end to the scene.
I quickly slide in next to Lily, our thighs pressing together, and wrap my arms around her and the dog.
Ruth rummages through her gym bag and pulls out a half-empty water bottle.
She takes a swig, wipes the mouthpiece on the hem of her T-shirt, and hands it to Lily as if it’s a shot of tequila that’ll calm her nerves.
Sweet Tim, not sure where he is supposed to be in the aftermath of all that mayhem, wrangles as many bags and suitcases as he can fit under his arms and mumbles, “I’ll just take these inside. ”
My sister’s head is bent as she sobs into Marigold’s neck.
Lily stays like this, with me holding onto her for dear life until Marigold starts to squirm. “Mom,” I say, “do you think
you could take the dog in the backyard?”
My mom knows I’m giving her an out. These types of moments are not her strong suit. Want someone’s ass kicked? Call Ruth.
Need a shoulder to cry on? Not so much. “Come on, Goldie,” she says, wrapping the dog’s leash around her hand. “Let’s go for
a tinkle.”
The pair waddle off, and I loosen my grip on Lily, push her hair away from her face, and force her to meet my eyes. I give
her my most concerned, maternal, sisterly, empathetic face and say, “That guy . . . what a douchenheimer.”
Lily snort-laughs and a little snot flies out of her nose, which makes her snort again. “Yes,” she admits. “Douchenheimer
extraordinaire.”
“Lord Douchenheimer.”
“King Douchenheimer.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, God save the King Douche—”
“Okay, okay.” She laughs. “Stop. I don’t want to be in a good mood. I want to be sad and furious and miserable.”
“Yes, sweetie,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “You can be all that.”
“Oh jeez. Mom. What did she say when you told her?”
Now is not the time to admit I shirked my sisterly responsibility. Besides, my mother got enough of the story in living color.
“Suffice to say he should stay away from Ruth if he values his testicles.”
Lily twists her lips and leans her head on my shoulder. “Excellent,” she says before a long groan. “Oh, Big, what am I going
to do?”
It’s a problem that doesn’t need an answer today. “Let’s start with going inside. I’ll make you a coffee, and you can unpack.
I’ll bet I can sweet-talk Cameron into staying on the couch while you’re here. You can have his room. He’d do it in a flash
for his favorite aunt.”
“He won’t need to; won’t be here that long. I’m leaving for Alaska soon. I can couch it until then. Oh, and it’s okay if Marigold
stays here, right? She loves the kids.”
There is every reason for my sister not to skip town right now. Any decent lawyer—at least the ones I see on Suits—would tell her to stay put, would say she’d be abdicating her home and her business, even custody of Marigold if it comes
to that. She should stay and fight. But, after what I just witnessed—the cruelty of it, her belongings stuffed into bags and suitcases and dragged
onto my front steps. The defeated expression on the face of a woman whose beauty and charm and je ne sais quoi (and, to be
honest, the support of her guardian angel, me) have kept her from ever having to go into an ugly battle. Suddenly, should doesn’t seem like it has a place here.
“Sure, she can stay here. Tiger will survive a week under my bed.” I lay my hand on my sister’s knee. “Maybe I was wrong.
Some time away could do you a world of good. Go hug some trees. What do they call it? Commune with nature. We can figure out
the next steps when you get home.”
Lily’s eyes widen, and she throws her arms around my neck. “No way. Really? Yay, we’re going to Alaska!”
My heart breaks a little over the relief on my sister’s face. She’s nine again, begging me to take her with me on a day out
with my friends. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I can’t just up and go—”
“No, Big! You have to come. I need you!” Then she changes the focus of her pitch. “You said it would be good for me. Well,
it’ll be good for you too. Think about it. You need this as much as I do. All you do all day is wait hand and foot on everyone
else—”
“I don’t wait on—”
Lily doesn’t want to hear it; she’s on a roll. “When was the last time you went on an adventure?”
“An adventure?” I laugh. “Have you seen me? I’m more built for mall walking, and even then, I’m not so sure. That Peloton
you convinced me to buy during the pandemic is a clothing rack. I’m out of breath in the line at the coffee shop. I was wearing
gym clothes and never making it to the actual gym before it became a fashion phenomenon. Adventure? They’d find my stiff,
dead body frozen to the trail like those idiots who try to climb Mount Everest.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, don’t be so dramatic, that’s my game. Besides, it’s not like that at all. I told you, this is a guided
trip. They lead you around and take you places and do everything for you. It’s like full-on glamping, you don’t have to do
anything. It’s basically one step up from a cruise.”
“A cruise does sound appealing. And I’ve heard Alaska is beautiful . . . but wait, no. What am I saying? I can’t up and leave
with a week’s notice. I’ve got a life, a busy, busy life, and—”
“I didn’t want to have to say this, Bridget .
. .” Okay, here come the big guns. She’s using my actual name—she means business.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and honestly, I said I could, but I can’t go alone.
I’m too messed up; who knows what I’ll do?
I could get lost in the woods, eaten by a bear, screw some Grizzly Adams trapper and end up living in a cabin with no running water.
I can’t be left to my own devices. You’ve got to come with me.
I need my big sister. You need to save me from myself.
You’re the one person in the world I can count on.
I mean it, Big. If you don’t come to Alaska with me, I might never come back. ”