Chapter 11 #2
“You do know that I live in the same exact place as you, right? We share a mailbox and everything,” Chris asks. If his brow stays furrowed for much longer, it may never look normal again.
I nod. “Yep, and everyone here thinks that’s weird,” I answer for our entire family.
My brother glares up from where he’s seated while his sister stands gracefully. “Please?” she asks again.
Blinking, I realize she’s serious. “Um, yeah, of course.” Honestly, if we all truly liked each other, the twins and I could carpool every other week—we only live a few blocks from one another. But that would require a stronger relationship than bickering at family dinners every two weeks.
Then again, if Connie continues showing up to Aaron’s gigs … we may just get somewhere, after all.
Or they will.
Connie kisses our parents goodbye while I shift from foot to foot.
“Calloway?” My father stands, dropping a used napkin where his plate once sat. “Is Oliver joining us up at Aspen Point this year?” While the man’s face may be open and curious, the underlying sheen of antagonism dares to try and break through the facade.
“I think he’ll be with his family for the holidays.” A light bulb goes off in my mind. “They usually go and visit his grandma in Boston.” I give myself a little pat on the back for remembering that tiny tidbit. “Maybe next time.” Shrugging, I smile.
And try to ignore the sting of knowing how false my statement truly is.
Marshall, Sandra, and Blythe invade the forefront of my mind, their faces warm and welcoming. The genuine feeling of home.
I wonder if they've asked about me.
No, no. Thanksgiving only. That was the deal.
Dad doesn’t bother responding before heading toward the living room, ready to turn on whatever game is on tonight.
“Ready Calloway?” Connie holds out my coat.
Swallowing, I take it from her and we make our way to my snowtopped car.
I’m proud of my car. I bought it when I was nineteen with my own money.
I’d had a job for three years and, with supplemental money from years of babysitting, I was able to afford it without the help of my parents.
While my siblings took the fancy vehicles Ira and Lillian supplied, I wanted to make my own way.
And of course, the other Rutherford children were able to eventually exchange their firsts for newer models.
But I’ve had the same trusty Goaty for nearly nine wonderful years.
Goaty, since Mountain Goat is too long for everyday conversations.
But as my extremely successful, prim and proper sister climbs into Goaty’s worn interior, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. Of their success. Of their financial stability.
Of them clearly all being cut from the same cloth, while I’m just … not.
The engine roars to life, the trusty heater and radio blasting from having left them on when I was last here.
Buckling my seatbelt, I glance over at my sister in her dark slacks and beige cardigan.
The excess glitter on my seats may just be what she needs to finally win Aaron over. Though, who am I kidding?
Aaron’s been hers for years.
If only they were smart enough to figure it out.
“Maybe Chris needs to get laid,” I blurt out. Both my hands grip the wheel with a dangerous amount of tension while I try to not face palm myself.
But Connie surprises me by bursting into laughter.
Wide eyes slide toward her, testing to see if I’ve upset her.
“Maybe so.” Connie grins down at her lap. “I do apologize for his behavior.”
“Which time?” I grumble.
“Chris really is a good person. He’s supportive, and great at his job. He does his best with any task thrown his way, big or small,” she insists. “Not to mention, he has an amazing eye for detail. That’s probably why he’s so good at his job. But I think he’s lonely.”
“How can he be lonely?” Brows knitting together, my frown feels less alone.
“You two are always together. Well, except for right now. But you sleep next door to one another. You carpool to and from work and Mom and Dad’s house.
And probably everywhere else. He even came with you to see Aaron’s band play last time, and I highly doubt that was his idea of a good time. ”
“Yes,” she nods, “but what you’ve found with Oliver—I think Chris is a little jealous.”
My ribs twist themselves into oblivion at the mention of Oliver and our clearly outstanding job of romantic deception. And here I thought we wouldn’t be able to pull it off.
Silly me.
“He knows about my feelings,” Connie continues, “for Aaron. Chris has always known.” She snorts. “He knew even before I did.”
My sister isn’t usually this talkative. But I take the shot anyway. “How long have you liked Aaron?” Chancing a peek, I have the privilege of a full-on flush. “I promise I won’t say anything.”
Connie shifts in her seat to face me. “Do you remember when the Fairchilds moved in next door?”
“I was ten,” I nod. “They came to my Scooby-Doo birthday party a few weeks later. Their mom had learned I wanted to be a teacher and they gave me a chalkboard and that student desk?” Remembering Ian sitting in a desk that was much too small for him for all the hours I made him play school with me brings a smile to my face.
Connie’s musical laugh reminds me of holiday bells.
“That’s right. Well—” she sighs “—I remember looking out my bedroom window and seeing their moving van. Their parents were talking to the movers; giving directions I’m guessing.
And then he marched out of the van carrying a huge box and wouldn’t let anyone else take it from him.
While our family was taught to simply hire something out or let workers take care of things for us because we’re fortunate enough to be able to afford it, here was this guy.
A guy who was clearly from our world, but was also so capable.
He wasn’t all buttoned up and proper like those hiding behind the ivory walls in the Rutherford mansion.
And he understood how music can speak to your soul. It was refreshing.”
“But you didn’t know right away how you felt?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, not immediately. I just knew I found him intriguing.” Connie runs a hand through loose hair, freshly cut to shoulder-length.
“I started spending more time in the yard, hoping to run into him. Hanging around you when you would see him and Ian so I wouldn’t seem out of place. ” Connie grins.
I can’t help grinning right back. “You could’ve just joined us, you know.”
“I know … ”
“But Chris wouldn’t have wanted to,” I finish for her.
She nods. “And I couldn’t just leave him. He’s been my partner since birth. I felt like I would be abandoning him—betraying him—if I did that.”
“It’s okay for you all to have independent hobbies, Connie,” I whisper. “Just because you spend time apart doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.”
“Trust me, I have no interest in going to the gym,” she laughs. “I’ll leave that one to him.”
“The space movies?”
“Ugh,” she groans, “yeah, he definitely needs another friend for those.”
“Or a girlfriend,” I snicker.
“Speaking of … ” Connie raises a brow.
Oh no. Please don’t bring him up.
“Is Oliver really not going to come to Aspen Point with you? Even I’ll admit that I find that surprising.”
And there it is. “Why?” It comes out harsher than I mean it, but Connie sits there with her soft-spoken patience.
When I don’t give her anything else, she rolls emerald eyes. “Because of how he looked at you the entire night at Thanksgiving.”
I don’t bother holding back the derisive snort. And silently curse myself for accepting her request for a ride home. Only a few more miles and I’ll be home free.
Connie’s brow climbs higher. “You disagree? When was the last time you saw him?”
“Look, I don’t really know how much more I’ll see of him, if I’m being honest,” I sigh. There, that’s not totally untrue. Especially since I currently have no plans to see him again. And I am one hundred percent refusing to admit how I don’t love that to someone I’ve convinced otherwise.
“Why not?” Connie demands.
Rolling my neck back and forth, I beg the car travel gods to make these last few minutes go by faster. “It-it’s just, it’s complicated.”
“You love him, he clearly loves you—” she shrugs “—what’s complicated about that?”
“Because it’s fake, okay?” I shout. “There, are you happy? It was all fake. I admit it. We fooled you all.” The only sound in the vacuum of Goaty is some folk song playing through the radio.
My face burns at the confession, and I keep my eyes locked on the road while I pray that Connie’s suddenly become deaf.
Sliding my gaze over to my sister, I watch while she quirks her lips this way and that. Her brows furrow and smoothen, only to reenter the wrinkly zone. Finally, I hear, “Huh.”
“What does that mean?” The volume from my previous shared secret remains. Groaning, I contort my face into what in no way can be considered attractive. I probably look like I’m dying from scurvy. Maybe I will.
But then who would water Gilmore?
I haven’t set up a will yet, choosing who to bequeath my botanical babies to when that time comes.
Surely Ian will take some of them on.
“Breathe, Calloway.” Connie’s tender voice reminds me that we both need to get home safely, so it wouldn’t do any good to get in a car crash right now.
“I so should not have told you that. Here, I’ve been worried about getting caught and I managed to spill my own secret,” I ramble. “He told me everything would be fine, that no one would find out. But he didn’t count on my own big mouth—”
“Calloway.” The sharp tone coming from my timid sister shocks me into silence, which she’s probably as thankful for as I am. When it’s clear that I don’t plan on continuing my verbal tirade anytime soon, she continues, “First, I promise not to tell the others.”
Does this woman have a shiny halo above her head, or am I seeing things?