Chapter Thirty-Nine
Having a broken leg turns out to have its advantages.
Not the pain. Not the hot, sweaty boot. Not the sore armpits from the crutches. Not the woozy feeling every time I get off
the couch. Not getting up and down the stairs like a crab. But it is a nice tension-free segue to setting my family up to
After all, like Lily said on the plane, this lady is broken.
So far, they are doing great. Annie has been helping with the food shopping, and I think she likes the job—deciding what everyone
can and cannot eat in this house. There is less junk food, much to Cameron’s disappointment, but his sister is quick to tell
him how bad that “crap” is for him and that she is just looking out for his health and well-being. The jury is out on whether
she is taking her big sister role too seriously. I make a note to keep an eye on that.
Cam, having saved himself from the punishment of dishwashing by finding his kitchen clogs—which were by the front door, as
I knew they would be—is back in his boss’s good graces and has been moved up to sous-chef, occasionally bringing home doggie
bags so no one has to cook dinner.
Tim tried his hand at laundry, something admittedly I never let him do after I witnessed him dumping the colors and the whites into the same load decades ago.
Now that he’s agreed to follow my specific, time-proven instructions, he isn’t half bad at it.
And I turn a blind eye to his lack of origami-esque folding skills. See, progress!
Every day I remember to thank Alaska for theses added gifts as well.
Ruth, on the other hand, was a slightly harder sell.
In the three weeks since we’ve been home, although my mother was initially concerned with our injuries, hovering over us,
telling us not to do this or that (but not actually doing the this or that for us), and in shock and then happy tears over
Lily’s news, wrapping her arms around my sister until Lily cried out, “You’re squishing the baby,” it didn’t take her long
to ask about who was going to get her to her “appointments.” Lily and I had cooked up a plan on the plane that should have
been implemented ages ago. We introduced Ruth to the wonderful world of Uber. Lily downloaded the app to her phone, and after
an unsurprising clash of short tempers (Mom’s and Lily’s), Mom was all set to come and go as she pleased. Why I hadn’t thought
of a ride service earlier speaks volumes about how entrenched I was in my Eldest Daughter to the Rescue persona.
This morning, as I sit at the kitchen table, my leg propped up on an empty chair, my hands wrapped tightly around my mug of hot coffee, the Ackerman-Petty routine feels more like a choreographed ballet than a frantic break dance.
Tim is at the stove making eggs, humming under his breath.
Tiger and Marigold have formed an unlikely alliance at his feet as they wait in hope that he’s cooking for them.
Annie, in powder blue scrubs and Crocs, is packing a breakfast smoothie to go—more early morning spaying on today’s schedule.
Cameron’s still asleep on the couch, his bed since we’ve been home after he graciously gave up his room to Lily.
It’s only temporary, she insists. Eric is still staying with friends, but these weeks have been tough for my sister, harder than scrambling up any mountain, scarier than facing the moose, more anxiety producing than running from a bear, and we both thought she’d be better off here, just for the time being.
Annie grabs her backpack and her Stanley cup filled with banana protein shake and rushes out to get to the hospital. Before
the door can close, my mother storms in. She’s ready to go, her hair in a fuchsia floral swim cap, her neon orange tracksuit
clashing with her T.J.Maxx deal-of-the-century silver-and-black bathing suit, the skin over her bare breastbone lined and
speckled like a sparrow’s egg.
“Move your tuchus, toots,” she says to me. “Mr. Uber isn’t going to wait all day.”
“Give me a minute, Mom,” I say. “And you know his name is not Mr. Uber. That’s the company.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles and turns back to the door, letting it slam behind her, presumably on her way to complain to Mr.
Uber that it’s not her fault he’s waiting in the driveway when time is ticking. I walk gingerly to the sink, still in my boot
but finally able to put some weight on my leg and pour what’s left of my precious coffee down the drain. I hang a bag containing
a much less flashy bathing suit, a towel, and pool shoes over my shoulder and count my breaths.
“I can’t believe she’s got you going to water aerobics. You’ll fit right in with the biddies,” says Lily, pouring herself
a big glass of orange juice—no caffeine for her these days—and chuckling at my misfortunate as she does it.
“It was the physical therapist’s idea. Part of the rehab. But honestly, having Mom in her little swim cap, bobbing up and
down and shouting at me over the music that I’m doing everything wrong, is almost more painful than falling into the ravine
and breaking my leg in the first place.”
“At least you didn’t get pushed down there. And while pregnant!”
“Lily. We agreed you would stop saying that. I feel bad enough. Not for you, of course. But for Denali.”
From the moment we found out Lily was pregnant, my astonishment, joy, and relief were weighed down by a wet blanket of dread.
What if the fall had harmed the baby? I’d never have been able to forgive myself; it would have been the car accident all
over again, only much, much worse. Fortunately, Dr. Embree did an ultrasound at Lily’s first visit. Not only was the baby
normal and healthy, but my sister was almost out of the first trimester. As the designated “significant other,” I had a front-row
seat for all the appointments. That morning, watching the black-and-white image of my niece—yes, niece—the relief was palpable.
Still, I don’t need Lily teasing me about it.
“Still too soon?” she says. “Jeez, you are so sensitive.”
Today, Lily is back in her nap dress, roomy and flowing enough to last her through the pregnancy. She went back to work after
giving her ribs and wrist some time to heal, but only after I retooled the schedule—so she and Eric are never there at the
same time—and fired Willa, who, frankly, I was surprised to find out was still there. Had she no shame?
Lily is determined that the marriage is over. We’d talked it out on the flight home. I finally got the conversation I’d been
chasing the entire week. I guess Lily was right; she needed flight before she was ready to fight. We agreed it was right not to tell Eric about the baby yet, but she knows that can only last so long.
“He’s not going to give a shit, I’m telling you, Big,” she’d said, munching on her stroopwafel and then stealing mine since
she was now eating for two. “The store, on the other hand.” The store is going to take some wrangling to “access the equitable
distribution of assets,” as the divorce lawyer she phoned from the airport called it. In the meantime, Lily and I have plans.
Big plans.
“I meant it,” Lily had said as she’d climbed over me and my boot to pee for the fourth time since we took off. “We should work together. We should run the store. Screw Eric. There’s got to be a way to get him out.”
As she disappeared down the aisle, I looked at my hands, dirt from the ravine still under my nails. I twisted my fox ring
around my finger and thought about going to Alaska for Lily and Lily alone. But coming home with something for me, and I knew
what that something needed to be.
When my sister got back from the bathroom, after making an exaggeratedly high step to avoid my leg but using the top of my
head as a balancing post and plopping herself into the middle seat with a groan, I said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Really? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I just spent the whole time in the ladies’ thinking of a sales pitch. I was sure I was going to have to do a big dog and
pony show.”
“Nope. I’m in.”
Lily squealed and wrapped her arm through mine and leaned into me, planting a big sloppy kiss on my cheek. I held up one finger.
“On one condition,” I added.
“Here we go.”
“Look, if I’m going to come into the business, run it with you like you are asking, I need to know what I’m doing. I want
to go back and take some classes first, business courses, definitely accounting, brush up on all that. It’s been years since
I’ve done anything remotely like this. I could go to a community college. Or maybe online for now, with my leg and all, but
I want to come in qualified.”
“You thought of all that while I was peeing?”
It was an idea that had been blooming in the back of my mind since Lily first mentioned me coming into the store with her.
I let myself dare to dream it could become a reality.
Something I wouldn’t have done before. I’d have flapped my hand, and laughed it off, and pulled out my to-do list on the back of an envelope as an example of how it wasn’t possible.
Going back to school made perfect sense. I’d been busying myself with classes at the Community Education Society: how to arrange
a charcuterie board and how to deadhead your hydrangeas and yoga for weight loss. They were all space fillers. This, how to
successfully run a business with my sister, is what I’ve been searching for.
“I need to do it, Lil. Take the courses, know my shit before I start. I don’t want people thinking I’m a bored housewife who
got the job because I’m your sister.”
“You’re worried about everyone thinking you’re a nepo baby? That’s hysterical. But I love it. Shit, Big Sis, let’s do this
thing.”