Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
WIL
Mom rents a villa with an enormous pool in Phoenix. She doesn’t give any of us much notice, and even Kaplan has to scramble to make it work. The best part about this forced-family holiday is that Kap finally comes clean and brings his boyfriend Jordan along, although he hasn’t come out to Dad yet.
The worst part of the trip is everything else.
Mom has planned nearly every minute of every hour we’re here.
A hike at a hot, dusty nature preserve. Nine holes for the guys at the legendary Arizona Biltmore Golf Club while Mom and Kelsey have a spa day.
A minibus tour of haunted Phoenix. Dinners at high-end restaurants.
Fake Christmas Eve, complete with movies and stockings and a tray of homemade cookies.
Our last full day, Mom has scheduled a “relaxing afternoon at the pool,” and the universe cooperates. It’s beautiful, hot, sunny, exactly the opposite of what’s waiting for us when we return to Minnesota.
I’ve avoided Kelsey, and she knows why—the little snitch.
Out at the pool, Mom, Kap, and Jordan provide a buffer on chaise lounges between me and my sister.
I’ve been in a bad mood for most of this vacation, and that’s also helped.
Mom’s kept us busy enough, too, that I haven’t thought about the mess I’ve made back home—much.
I’ve mostly forgotten the look on Abbey’s face, first when I apologized for my inappropriate behavior and sounded like a fucking cyborg, and then when she accused me of looking for an easy lay.
Abbey’s right. Jeremy’s right. I’m an asshole.
And once again, I let my father and my career goals dictate the trajectory of my life.
This time, though, I did it for Abbey. Some days, I wonder if I should have told her, but I know her.
I know she would hate that I was trying to protect her and save her job.
Jordan and Kaplan go into the house to play video games in the air-conditioned villa. This sounds like a euphemism, but it’s legit: Jordan brought a promo of some hot new title that hasn’t been released yet. When they get up, Kelsey waddles over and settles in next to Mom.
Mom sighs. “I’m absolutely thrilled for Kaplan and Jordan. Such a cute couple, too.”
In some ways, Mom has aged since I last saw her.
Her ash-blonde hair is now nearly all gray, and there are more laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, but in other ways, she seems much younger.
She’s lost weight, she smiles more, she plays tennis, and I know she doesn’t have to worry about money anymore like during the Wausau years.
She’s found purpose in her work, and a partner whose values align with hers.
“Yeah, I’m sure Kap would love to hear you call him cute,” I say.
Mom chuckles but Kelsey huffs. “Why can’t you be happy for them, Wil?”
“Did I say I wasn’t happy for them?” I bite back. “Of course I’m fucking happy for them. Just like I’ve always been happy for you and Andre. And how nice of you to be so supportive of their relationship.” I don’t hold back on the sarcasm.
“Give me a break,” she says.
I’ve tried to keep my feelings toward my sister to myself on this trip, but I can’t take any more of her holier-than-thou attitude. “You just had to tell him, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with her nose in the air.
“Of course you fucking do!”
“Wil!” Mom interjects. “What’s going on with you two? And do you have to use that kind of language?”
“Yes, I fucking do,” I say.
“What is going on?” Mom asks again.
“Yes, Wil, why don’t you tell Mom what’s going on?” Kelsey rubs her hand over her belly, like that’s supposed to incite sympathy. She puked the entire flight to Phoenix, apparently, but Andre had splurged for first class, so at least I didn’t have to witness it in my cramped coach seat in row 21.
I have no sympathy for my meddling bitch of a sister.
“Since you seem to know everything, why don’t you?” I snap. “Like you told Dad.”
“Good grief,” Mom says, “you’re behaving like children. And I should have known this had something to do with Jeff.”
I stand up, wrap my towel around my neck, and stare down my sister. “Of course it has something to do with him. You know, Kels, Kaplan hasn’t come out to Dad yet. Are you going to rat him out, too? Or have you already?”
“Go to hell, Wil.” She slides her sunglasses over her eyes.
Mom shakes her head. “I can’t believe you two. This was supposed to be a nice family vacation!”
I turn toward her. “I can’t believe you think you can just fly back here after all these years and expect everyone to have a ‘nice family vacation.’ There’s not much that’s nice about this family, Mom, and it’s about time that you accept that, especially since you’ve worked so hard to take yourself out of it.
I love you, and I love that you’ve found happiness in your new life, but next time you plan a nice family vacation, don’t invite me. ”
I go into the house, throw my things into my duffle, and call Northwest Airlines to change my flight. At the airport, I ignore every call from Mom, Andre, even Kaplan. I send Kap a text: Flying home tonight. Happy for you and Jordan. He seems like a good one.
Jeremy calls right before I board. “I did it,” he says. “Somehow, I got your transfer to Ridgehill approved. Congratulations; you’ve successfully completed your assistant manager rotation.”
I sink low in my seat. He did it. I don’t know how he did it, or what strings he had to pull, but it’s happening. I’ll be out of the Woodlake store—and away from Abbey and the constant reminders of what we might have had—in two weeks.
A few days later, I’m researching a missing software title before we open, and Abbey’s at the media desk not twenty steps from me.
It’s the closest we’ve been in weeks, but she hasn’t seen me yet.
She mumbles and hums to herself and at one point, belts out the chorus to “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M. Maybe she does know I’m within earshot.
“Hey, Mopey Dwarf,” I hear Sam say to her. “We got in those Spice Girls CDs you needed.”
“There was no Mopey Dwarf,” Abbey says. “First of all, why are they the Seven Dwarfs and not Dwarves? English is such a messy language. And I hate that movie. Snow White’s voice is horrible, so high-pitched and annoying.
Plus, there’s so much inherent sexism in that story.
Ooh, maybe I should write about that for the zine. ”
“Life’s too short to be bummed out, Abs. You want me to put a few of these up on the endcap?”
“Oh, would you? You are the very best, Sam Hawkins. There’s no one better than you.”
Sam walks past me as he heads toward the front of the media department with the CDs. “Hey, you gonna tell her before the meeting or are you going to hide out here all morning?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m going to tell her.”
“Do it now, Jaws.”
Once he’s gone, I walk over to the media desk where Abbey’s still humming. She doesn’t notice me, so I clear my throat, and she turns.
She looks tired, her face thin. She’s lost weight.
Her hair is twisted up in a giant claw clip, which I learned early on is a sign that she’s stressed and not about to take shit from anyone or anything, not even her hair.
She’s already got her jersey on, but it’s not buttoned, open over a tight, heather gray T-shirt.
I’d love to slide my hands inside that jersey, run them across every rib, pull her in close like I did on New Year’s Eve.
I can’t think about New Year’s Eve, not now.
She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “How can I help?” Her tone is falsely cheerful.
“Do you…” I trail off and clear my throat again. This is harder than I thought it would be. I thought that after all these days avoiding each other, telling her would be easy. “Do you have a minute to speak privately in the Dugout?”
She forces a smile. “I do not. If you recall, I’m currently the only media employee until eleven, and I have so much to do before we open.”
“Fine.” I glance around. We’re the only ones in the department. “If that’s how you’re going to play it.”
She crosses her arms against her chest, protecting herself.
“I’m leaving,” I say softly. “My last day at Woodlake is Thursday.”
Her arms drop and her face falls, too. “Wh-what? Why? Thursday, as in two days?”
I keep my expression neutral, professional. “I’ve been moved up in the rotation to the AGM spot at Ridge.”
“But… but…” she sputters. “Why so soon?”
“That’s how it works sometimes. Century Dupont will be your new manager. He starts Sunday.”
She shakes her head. “No, he can’t. I’m off this weekend.” She’s reeling, panicking. I recognize the wild eyes, flicking from one thing to another, and the shaky breath.
For the first time, I think about what this means for Abbey—me leaving. We’ve all left her—Aurora, Cesar, now me. I give a tiny shake of my head. I’ve already hurt her so much, but it’s the right thing to do. For both of us. It’s the only thing to do.
“You don’t need to be here,” I say calmly. “Kevin and Lavender are perfectly capable of setting an ad.”
“But I should be here for his first day. What if he comes in and wants to change a display or… or… do things differently? And he doesn’t know Kevin, doesn’t understand how he operates, not like I do. I’ve worked too hard for some French dude to come in here and mess things up.”
“French dude?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Dew-pon.” She wrinkles up her nose. She’s adorable, even when she’s spiraling.
“Century is not French. He’s from Green Bay. And he’s not going to mess anything up.”
“How do you know for sure?”
I place a hand on each shoulder. I shouldn’t touch her, I know that, but I crave the connection. I’ve had my hands—and my mouth—on every inch of this body, and the fact that I shouldn’t be touching her, not even like this, breaks me.
“Breathe,” I say. “Century has worked for Hometown for seven years. He knows what he’s doing. They’ll be fine without you for one day. You’ve got to learn that you can’t control everything all the time.”
“Oh, like you?”
Point taken. I drop my hands.
“Well. Anyway. I wanted you to hear the news. From me. Before the morning meeting.”
“I think I’ll skip the morning meeting, if that’s okay with you.”
She walks away, and I can only watch her go.
Sam finds me later in the Dugout.
“Well,” he says, “I know how Abbey’s doing. How are you?”
“How do you think I am?” I snap.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry I asked.”
My anger dissipates. “Shit, no, I’m sorry.”
“You want to know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me whether I want to know or not.”
“You’re right.” He pauses, a lead-up to a good ass-kicking, I’m sure. “I think that you’re scared. You’re scared of your dad because he’s been holding the reins your entire fucking life. And you’re scared to let yourself love Abbey, but for the life of me, I cannot understand why.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “It’s done. We’re over. I told you before, Sam. She needs this job more than she needs… well, me.”
“You’ve said some stupid shit over the years, but that’s gotta be the stupidest. Why can’t you at least give it a shot if you’re at different stores?”
“It’s bigger than me, and you know it.” Jefferson A. Wilshire III always gets his way. It’s been like this my whole life. Toe the line, Wil. Toe the line, and you’ll go places with this company.
He huffs out a frustrated breath. “If you say so.”
“This isn’t like your lucky parking lot, Sam. Not everything works out because you wish it could.”
“Fuck you.” He doesn’t smile or laugh, and he, too, turns and walks away.
I’m batting zero today.
When I turn back to the computer, there’s a new email from Felix, no subject, no greeting: I know you’ve only got a couple of days left but any chance you could convince Abbey to skip that Cambridge interview? It would make things a lot easier for me.
I have no idea what he means. I delete the email. If he asks me about it, I’ll play dumb. Besides, I’m the last person to tell Abbey Rhodes what to do.