CHAPTER 52 CAUSE AND EFFECT
CAUSE AND EFFECT
Orchid
Orchid stumbled up to her room, replaying their exchange.
Abandoned. Again.
She was an idiot for divulging every last vulnerability.
But this time felt different. She didn’t need him to make her happy, just as he didn’t need her to make him whole.
Sure, she could wallow and seal herself off for another half year.
Or, she could choose not to. Phoenix’s rejection was sad, especially since a part of her intuited that it wasn’t a reflection on her.
Beyond the sadness, though, was strength, and the knowledge that she’d survive—even thrive.
Her well was deep. She could love again.
For now, she had to go face him and his family.
Orchid tore off her yoga outfit and pulled a dress over her head. She could do this, take part in one last meal. She’d take the high road.
The streams of silver and vanilla-hued fabric fit her perfectly. For Easter, the season of rebirth, she’d chosen an outfit that wasn’t black, a feat considering her wardrobe. She slipped her feet into silver heels and strode over to the mirror to re-apply makeup over puffy eyes.
A knock at the door. She calmed herself with a lungful of air, then tore it open to find Lucy and Harry.
“Wow, I love your dress,” Lucy said.
“Yours, too,” Orchid said, glancing at the spring green floating chiffon. It wasn’t one she’d ever wear, but the color and style suited Lucy.
“Ready?” Harry asked, offering each of them an arm.
“Sure. I’ll be your shield for any stupid comments, right?” Orchid said dryly to Lucy.
“That’s right!”
Downstairs, the table was set more ornately than a Martha Stewart Living shoot. Pale lavender linens complemented cream china and robin’s egg blue walls to create the feeling of being inside a Fabergé egg.
“Betsy, you’ve outdone yourself,” Orchid said, touching cheeks with the hostess.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, beaming. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not bad,” she said, stretching a back made sore by the awkward angle of the armchair.
Caleb strode over. “I bought you guys time this morning,” he said with gruff pride. “You were asleep in Phoenix’s room and I figured you’d want to talk, so I had the rest of the crew leave for Easter Mass without you.”
“Thanks.” Orchid stretched upwards to throw her arms around his neck when he stepped back, one hand up.
“I also straightened everyone out that we never dated, so you don’t want to start rumors, do you?”
“You’re the best, thanks,” she said, backing up to allow proper distance between them.
Orchid hesitated and then walked over to Veronica. “Good morning, Mrs. Walker. How are you?”
“I’m well. I understand you spent the night in Phoenix’s room?”
Orchid blushed. “Um, not like that . . . I was—”
“I know. I didn’t mean anything. Just, actually, thank you for helping him.”
She exhaled. “You’re welcome.”
“Was he better by the morning?”
She nodded, throat tight remembering his calm sleep and then the finality of his rejection. “Once he fell asleep, he seemed okay. I wanted to stay just in case he needed anything.”
Veronica relaxed. Orchid could see the caring mother behind her tough exterior.
Betsy came to take her sister by the arm. “Brunch is served!”
Orchid ended up between the Walker brothers, Caleb on her left, Phoenix on her right. The tempo of her heart as he settled beside her told her that his dismissal had done little to cool her ardor.
Prayers weren’t awkward. Orchid didn’t experience the nonchalance Veronica exhibited during the previous day’s benedictions.
Instead, holding Phoenix’s arm was as intimate as holding his hand.
George made his rounds balancing the fat bottom of the green bottle. “No empty glasses,” he admonished.
“Happy Easter,” he said as he refilled Orchid’s flute, waiting for the bubbles to subside.
“You too.”
Betsy observed them. “What do you normally do on Easter?” she asked Orchid as George moved to Caleb’s glass, perpetually empty.
“Um, sometimes I go to my friend Mandy’s house.”
“Where do your parents live, dear?”
“My parents died when I was younger.” Based on experience, she tried to keep her tone matter of fact.
“Oh dear! I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Surely you have other family. Grandparents? Siblings?”
“I’ve got an uncle in California and an aunt and grandparents in Florida,” she said, gesturing expansively to make it sound like more than it was.
“Well, that’s good.”
“I actually just became reacquainted with my uncle. He was pretty young when my folks died,” she said. “He’s invited me to move to LA to work on a family business.”
“Are you moving?” Caleb asked.
“Maybe,” Orchid said, realizing all options were viable now. “Except, my company’s offered me an assignment in China.”
She could sense Phoenix staring at her profile. What does it matter, since there’s no ‘us’ anyway?
“Well, that’s exciting,” Betsy said. “Which will you pick?”
“I’m pretty excited about both,” she admitted, hit afresh with the memory that nothing held her in New York.
“Definitely, go to China,” George boomed. “LA for family, or working in the fastest growing economy? No contest.” He launched into stories of deals he’d made in Asia, and the talk turned away from Orchid.
Following the meal, Caleb stood to thank his aunt and uncle. He and Orchid would be the first to leave. “We’re going to ride in daylight,” he said.
Each person offered a hand or a hug in farewell. Except Phoenix, who’d disappeared into the underbelly of the house. Goodbye.
Riding behind Caleb back to the city, Orchid compared her expectations for the weekend with reality.
She’d hoped to see Phoenix, check. She wanted to speak with him, check.
She needed to apologize for misunderstandings, check.
Most of all, she’d mined deep, sifted through the wreckage of her past to find the best person she could offer, and opened every last vulnerability to hold back nothing, to give all. Every . . . last . . . dream.
Hopping off the bike in front of her building, Orchid expressed her gratitude tinged in melancholy. “Thanks. You did your part, but I guess it wasn’t enough.”
Caleb looked at her from under bushy brows. “No?”
She shook her head, looking down. “I told him how I felt, and he had nothing for me in return.”
“Sorry, babe. You were expecting more?”
“Yeah. I thought there was more.”
“Me, too, actually.”
She looked up, knowing it changed nothing. Still, she wanted to hear someone else say that she’d had reason to hope. “Really?”
“Why else would I go to so much trouble?”
“Yeah, why did you help me?”
“Well, it’s not all for you,” he said. “I get the feeling that my brother’s holdin’ himself to some impossible standard. I’m trying to give him a chance, too.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, intuiting an echo of truth she couldn’t articulate.
“Ever since the hospital, seems like he’s been trying to be someone for us. He was always holding it together, even when we barely could.”
“That kind of breaks my heart,” she said.
“Yeah, me too.”
“You’re a really great brother, you know that?” she asked, briefly flinging her arms around his neck. “I guess this is goodbye for us, too. Take care of yourself, and Phoenix.”
He gave her a quick squeeze, and hopped onto his bike.
Caleb and Orchid leaving hollowed Phoenix’s insides. He looked down, numbly predicting he’d see a gaping cavity devoid of life-giving organs. After they’d left, Veronica claimed the empty spot on the sofa next to him and twined her arm with his. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “Everything okay?”
“Nothing time won’t fix,” he said, oddly heavy considering his innards had been suctioned out.
“Is it over that woman?”
“She’s not a bad person, Mom.”
“I was about to tell you the same thing. So how come she came to see you, then left with your brother?”
He sighed, exhaustion weighting every word. “She has a history that makes the two of us impossible, but I’m the only one honest enough to see it.”
“Caleb told me about it.”
He leaned back, closing his eyes. She pushed a lock of hair off his forehead.
“So, I have a story to tell you,” she said, her voice quiet and soothing.
“Imagine, twin brothers, schoolboys in the same class, with the same teacher, with the same math test. One gets a 97 percent and petitions the teacher to allow a retake, convinced he can do better.” She paused.
“The other gets a B- and gives up, since he hates school anyway.
“Which way is right?” she asked.
He recalled his and Caleb’s divergent paths. Had their differences in motivation been evident even in elementary school?
“Of course, both the perfectionist and the dropout are going to have issues,” he said, eyes still closed.
“Well said. So maybe it’s time you were okay with something less than 100 percent.”
He opened his eyes to stare at her.
“Or rather, maybe it’s time you believe someone else could be okay with less than perfection.”
He swallowed over the hard lump in his throat, blinking.
“She’s got standards,” he said. “I don’t know if B- is going to be enough for her.”
“I may be biased but I don’t see anything less than an A here.”
She sat up to look at him directly. “From the look on her face, I don’t think Orchid sees anything less than 100 percent.”
Tears surprised him, heating his eyes as they sprang to existence. He blinked through the prickling sensation in his scalp as he worked to keep them hidden.
The sun shifted, the distinct colors of the room muting to speckled grays in the afternoon dusk.
“She said she wants to try again. She said she loves me.” His throat tightened as he remembered her expression that morning. Aren’t I here now? Dealing just fine?
“And what’d you say?”
“I told her there was nothing between us.”
His mom studied him, pressing down the spot of hair that always lay against the grain of the others. “Some imperfection is a bit endearing,” she said, looking at the errant wave.
“Christ, Mom,” he exploded, stabbed by the impossibility of what he couldn’t have.
The source of his emotions hurtled sixty miles an hour away from him, her feelings growing cold faster than Caleb’s motorcycle could take them back to the city.
“I’m a double amputee. I’ve got one hand and one leg.
Do you think sensitive Orchid is going to find that freakin’ endearing? ”
His mom remained calm despite his outburst. Betsy and George slunk out to the kitchen. He was glad that his cousins and Lucy were nowhere to be seen.
“I don’t know Orchid as well as you do, but do you think her experiences could make her more empathetic about all that?”
“Remember I had nightmares during those early days in the hospital?”
“I remember. You didn’t talk much about them.”
“I dreamt I was crawling through a fire and no one would help me,” he said, obscuring the details about his family’s imagined callousness. “Except Orchid.”
“You see?” she asked. “You knew even then that Orchid cared for you.”
“In my dreams, Mom, she saved me from the fire, yes. But she did so at her own expense. She threw up looking at me. She carried me . . . out of pity,” he spat.
“I didn’t know,” Mom said. “I’m sorry.”
Her stare reminded him of the desperation in her eyes as he’d fought to regain the small slips of independence in the early days—transferring to his chair, eating independently, and dressing.
“You know that’s just a dream, right?” she asked.
“The dream feels more real than reality. Like that’s what’s going on for her behind all that fake bravado.”
She lifted his hand, warming it against her cheek. “No, honey, that’s what’s going on for you behind all your bravado.”
The room empty, alone with his mom, real tears came. “I’m scared, Mom. Scared to try, and then she’s going to figure out that this sucks.”
Veronica nodded. “You know what I’m scared of?” she asked softly. “I’m scared you’re letting that train take more than it already has.”