Chapter 39 Chloe
chloe
Arbor Hill is only a forty-five minute drive from Linden Creek, but with Savannah at the wheel and nothing but dead grass and barren trees outside my window, my overactive imagination has started to ramp up.
Today feels like the worst possible time I could have chosen to come home, but I couldn’t cancel again without starting to raise concerns.
I used to think if I spread out my time spent with my parents, then surely we would find other things to talk about besides myself.
I’ve been visiting them every other month or so for the last two years, and it’s not worked yet.
“I think I forgot to put deodorant on today.” Savannah drops her nose to her shoulder. “Do I stink?”
“I can’t smell you, but even if you did, I think I’m predispositioned to think you smell good.”
“Like a kid that carries one of those grimey stuffies around and it smells so bad, but they think it’s the best smell in the world.” She laughs.
“Exactly. You’re my grimey stuffy.”
Twenty minutes later, Savannah parks along the sidewalk in front of my childhood home.
The two story brick exterior looks exactly the same.
The planter box under the windows has been dug out as they prepare for winter.
The same sea-foam green rocking chair sits on the porch.
The Linden Creek Lions flag that hangs above it has been a new addition over the last four years, but besides that, it’s like being teleported back to my childhood.
As I open the front door, it even smells the same.
“It’s me!” I call out.
“And meee!” Savannah echoes.
At that, Cinna and Effie come bounding from the kitchen to the main entrance, tails wagging, tongues out.
I set my bag beside me, at the same moment, Savannah and I both drop to our knees, giving the twin golden retrievers the love they deserve.
“Cindy! The girls are home,” my dad calls out.
Just as the house has stayed the same, so has my dad.
His smile lines are a little deeper, and the gray streaks at the side of his head have thickened, but other than that, he’s still the same strong, tall, clean-smelling dad.
Savannah’s full lips purse into a smile beside me as he takes us both in his arms and gives us one of those uncomfortably tight squeezes.
The man doesn’t know his own strength sometimes, but there’s never any question about his love.
“My girls!” My mom steps into the living room, waving a dish towel above her head. In a hurried walk, she sidesteps the dogs that are now circling between everyone, shoves her husband aside, and pulls Savannah and me into one of her softer but equally loving hugs.
“How was the drive?” she asks.
“Fine. No traffic,” Savannah answers. “Although the person in charge of the road snacks forgot to grab them from the counter.” She gives my mom the conspiracy eyes to which she genuinely looks shocked at my forgetfulness.
Which is fair, I’m not usually a forgetful person.
Unlike Savannah, who can’t remember the name of a single person we went to high school with, I’m the exact opposite.
I will remember not only the boy I randomly sat next to for two weeks in biology, but I’ll also remember the story I overheard him telling someone about how his sister’s boyfriend broke up with her because she was experimenting while in college.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m ruled by the moon or what, but I’ve never forgotten anything a day in my life.
Until today when I forgot the snacks, because every space in my brain was consumed by something else. The bag of Bugles and Nerds Gummy Clusters paid the price for that.
“Well, lucky for you, I made spaghetti.” My mom presses her cheek to Savannah’s. “Go put your stuff in your room and then meet me in the kitchen. I’ve got to finish getting the rest of the extra plates out.”
I pause with my bag halfway up to my shoulder. “Is someone else coming for dinner?”
“The Edens are in town for a few days, I invited them last night. They’re so excited to see you and hear all about school.” She smiles before throwing her towel over her shoulder and heading back toward the kitchen.
Savannah gives me a gentle nudge, and I realize I’m still standing with my bag hanging. “Come on, Honor Roll, you got this,” she whispers.
The Edens have been coming over for family dinner for as long as I can remember. We could order pizza and eat it straight out of the box, and I don’t think they would bat an eye, but my mom is too anal for that.
Long tapered candles light the center of the wooden table, and the velvet green bows wrapped around them match the placemats and cloth napkins.
“So, Chloe, you’re interning with a professor next year, I hear?” Mr. Eden cups his crystal glass, turning his attention to me.
“Oh, well…” I rub my palms together under the table before cracking my knuckles. “Not really.”
“It’s a teacher's assistant position, Ken,” my mom corrects.
Savannah’s hand pats my knee once and then she squeezes. I take a breath, settling my hands between my legs and look over at Mr. Eden. “Yeah, but, um…well, the one I applied for, I didn’t get, so…” My shoulders reach my ears, but they stay there because there’s nothing carefree about the shrug.
“Are they crazy? Do they know who you are?!” Mrs. Eden pipes up.
“You’re Chloe Cooper, for Christ’s sake.
No one would have done a better job than you,” she says, lifting her wine glass to her mouth.
Janet Eden has been friends with my mom since before I was born, and she sounds just like my mom because they’re practically the same person at this point, but I think she also genuinely believes there isn’t anything that I can’t do either.
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, chancing a peek over at my parents. My dad has a crease between his brows but it’s not disappointment there. It’s the same odd expression my mom has. It’s something like confusion mixed with…oh shit.
“Honey. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” my mom asks.
“I just found out yesterday.”
My dad is still processing, but when I look around the table, at the way my mom’s head is slightly tilted, and how she looks like she’s a second away from jumping up to hug me, it’s clear as day. They pity me.
My childhood bedroom is exactly the way I left it. The same purple comforter tucks us into the full size bed. The eight-foot long shelf on the opposite wall holds every trophy, certificate, and medal I’ve ever received. My desk even has the same books and pictures scattered around.
“Are you sleeping?” Savannah whispers in the dark room.
“If I was, that scary Chucky voice would have woken me up.”
She laughs and I feel her roll over to face me. It’s her silent way of telling me to get it all out.
“I don't even know why I’m so upset,” I huff. “It’s an internship I have no interest in, for a hopeful letter for more schooling that I don’t need. I think if anything, I’m just upset I let my parents down.”
“Hello?! Were we in the same room? They were not at all disappointed.”
“No, you’re right,” I say. “They pitied me. For the first time, they got to see me fail and they pitied me.”
“I don’t think they were that either, but forget about them for a minute.” I make out the way one of her arms waves around in front of us. “I think this is the universe telling you something.”
“Mmm,” I muse. “And what pray tell is she telling me?”
“She’s saying, ‘Chloe, it’s time.’” Her fingers begin tapping away on my arm. “Get back to clickity-clacking, you’ve got stories to tell,” she says, her voice more haunting than whimsical.
My lips tug up despite my best efforts to remain closed off to this conversation.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m just scared,” I admit.
“Okay, fair. What are you scared of?”
“Everything,” I spit out. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if I fail? What if I waste my time?”
“Well, that last one doesn't count. It’s never going to be a waste of your time. The other stuff…” I feel her shrug rather than see it.
“I don’t think you can fail. And not because I hold you on an indestructible pedestal—even though I totally do—but, because if it doesn’t work out the first, second, or third time, you’re still learning along the way, you’re still doing the things you want to be doing, and you’re growing as you get there, so I don’t think that’s a failure. ”
I want to argue, but I know she’s right.
I know this is about my future and writing, but in some weird way, I can’t help but think about how I’ve been doing this in my relationships.
I had labeled myself a failure when it came to Nathan, but if anything, I learned more about myself and how to love deeper when Maverick came around.
Still, I can’t stop myself from asking, “And what if it doesn’t work out?”
She blows out a long breath. “Then it’s like you always say.” Her soft arms link around mine, and she drops her head to my shoulder. “If it’s not worked out then it’s not the end.”