Chapter 25
Reed
As I sat down for my dinner meeting with Brooke, my phone chimed with a text from Cienna, letting me know the PTA board approved our proposal and that we were set to move forward.
I didn’t realize I was smiling until Brooke patted my arm from across the table and nodded toward my phone. “Good news?”
“Oh, oh yeah.” I set my phone on the table, face down. “Nothing important.”
She narrowed her eyes, but her mouth edged up in the corners. “Hmm.”
The waitress interrupted us to take our drink order, and I assumed the topic of my text was forgotten until Brooke’s eyes pinned me back down in a silent interrogation.
I sighed and tapped my fingers against the table. “Do you really want to know about PTA business?” It felt stupid to say out loud.
“PTA,” Brooke repeated with a pucker of her lips.
“Like parent, teacher.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I did my best to ignore her nudge and was saved by the waitress returning to let me know my stout wasn’t on tap.
Settling for a good ol’ Corona, I turned back to Brooke, hoping she was ready to move on.
She pulled an iPad out of her purse and began swiping. “Okay, Reed, down to business.”
Thank fucking god.
Brooke listened intently while I broke down the entirety of the situation and how I’d obtained temporary custody the day after the accident, remembering it vividly.
Abi was playing with the neighbors when Caroline was in the accident, and any time I’d taken the rare, brief breath to mourn my sister, I added a prayer of thanks that Abi wasn’t in the car with her that day.
She was surprised with a “special sleepover” as an extension to her playdate when Caroline never came home.
The moment I received the call about my sister’s accident, the flurry of panic, my desperate pleas over the phone to book a last-minute flight back to Sacramento International, struck.
I was numb, but the grief and reality of the situation didn’t set in until I picked Abi up, walked a few houses down, and stepped through the door of Caroline’s home.
Abi held my hand and cried, seeing that her mother wasn’t home waiting for her.
Then and there, my focus shifted away from the loss of my sister.
My life became about her daughter. The beautiful girl with Caroline’s spirit, and how much she was going to face.
How much she was going to need someone to take care of her.
Was I qualified for that? Nope. Not one bit.
Was there another reasonable option? Nope. I was it.
Brooke’s eyes narrowed, her brows pulled down while she listened to my story.
She eventually stopped taking notes and settled her attention completely on me, reaching across the table to settle her hand on mine.
“How are you doing?” She emphasized the word you, indicating she wanted to know about me.
But these days, there wasn’t a me without Abigail.
“Basking in a life of forgotten lunches, talking pigs with English accents, bedtime wars…” I chose the lighthearted route, veering from the parts about nightmares, meltdowns, and heartbreaking sobs. “Just when I thought my job was adventurous, here comes parenting.”
She laughed, then finally returned to taking notes on her iPad. “Speaking of adventures, how is your new job?” Her tone reverted to more formal, and I was relieved that the focus turned back to a meeting rather than a pity party.
I gave a rueful smile. “It’s riveting.” Sarcasm dripped from my words. I was lucky that my company granted me a short sabbatical and, upon my return, let me work from home most days, changing my role to editor.
Sitting at the computer, reading about the adventures of my peers, nitpicking their photography, imagining how I would have captured it differently—it definitely didn’t get my heart pumping like zip-lining over canyons.
The sounds of the keyboard and mouse clicks would never compare with the sound of my camera taking bursts of shots.
“Do you think your riveting work will interfere with caring for Abi in any way? Now or in the future?”
Valid question. I’d always been known for my love of traveling, the adrenaline junkie in my group of friends.
Of course I missed it, but the particular type of loneliness that came with traveling was starting to weigh on me.
I didn’t realize it until I spent time with Cienna on the cruise and felt how different the places I visited became when I shared them with someone else.
A sigh escaped me. “I can’t even think past getting through this custody battle. I don’t know what it looks like on the other end.”
She nodded and made more notes. Then a horrible feeling hit the pit of my stomach. “Wait, do you think my career could be held against me?”
Brooke shook her head, but her lips were pursed in thought. “No, it shouldn’t be an issue. As long as you have a plan for the near future.” She tapped her pen against her chin. “And your very riveting career adjustment proves that you’re willing to adapt your lifestyle to be a stable guardian.”
Crossing my arms, I sat back in my seat. This meeting brought forth more emotions than I could have imagined, and we still hadn’t even broached the topic of my parents.
The waitress came to take our order, and after a quick perusal, I chose a cheeseburger and fries.
Apparently, my palette for fine dining had drastically changed, being that my normal meals consisted of alphabet-shaped foods.
What I really wanted was another beer. Or two.
But I knew the reality of parenting now.
I could get an Uber to drive myself home, but I would have a child waiting for me this time, not just a couch.
Abi deserved more than a story time and tuck-in with a beer-breathed uncle.
Brooke stared at me for a moment behind her glass of water as she took a long sip. Her face was the picture of professionalism, but her eyes carried the softness of a concerned friend.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but whatever you can share about your relationship with your parents, and their relationship with your sister and Abi, will give me better insight as to what you might be up against.”
There it was. The topic I hated the most.
I leaned back and stretched my arms behind my head, then flattened my hair down with a few strokes while I contemplated how to answer. “In a nutshell.” I let out a scoff. “I don’t get along with my parents.”
“How about Caroline? Or Abi, for that matter?”
I rubbed at my chin, pondering how much to share. How much of Caroline’s story was hers to take with her?
“Caroline was ten when our father passed. She was a daddy’s girl through and through.” I fumbled with my beer bottle. “I was more of a mama’s boy, to be honest.” I gave a surprising halfhearted laugh, and Brooke’s eyes, still intent on me, held a glimpse of a smile.
“When he died, Caroline took it the hardest. She went through all of these phases, just trying to cope, you know?” I glanced up, and Brooke nodded. “Just trying to make new parts of her life that never included him. I understood, but it was hard to watch her lose herself.”
A long pause stretched between us, and Brooke remained patient with me as I sifted through the heavy words.
“My mom remarried when Caroline was twelve. I was just starting high school.” I closed my eyes briefly, the thickness growing in my throat.
“She and I had really different experiences.” Attempting to relieve the growing lump, I tugged at the neckline of my shirt.
“She struggled at home with our stepdad, Bruce. They butted heads.” I rubbed my chin with one hand, needing to keep my hands moving; otherwise, I’d lock up.
Every muscle in my body wanted to strain against the heaviness pouring over me.
“Bruce is strict. Really set in his ways. And Caroline was never one to conform.”
“She was constantly chasing the next thing that would help her forget her pain. Our dad’s death was a bruise she could never heal, and Bruce just seemed to keep pushing on it.
” The clog in my throat returned as the guilt seeped in.
“It got worse for her in high school. I was gone at college, and she discovered drugs. And you can imagine how things went from there.”
I’d run out of things to do with my hands, so I simply stared at them, wishing I could stand, pace, or just be done with this conversation.
Brooke nodded and made more notes on her iPad.
I used the pause to briefly close my eyes, then rested my forearms on the table and tried to relax my shoulders.
The guilt and grief pricked my skin and clawed at my chest, and it took everything I had not to fall back in my chair and end the conversation.
“She eventually graduated from continuation school, much to the disappointment of my parents. Caroline was a straight-A student through middle school. She was so smart. But she wouldn’t go to class, blew off homework, and pretty much gave up on her dreams of ever going to college.”
I stared down at my Corona, swirling my thumb through the condensation.
This conversation was harder than I thought it’d be.
I’d told it in bits before, but running the entire course of my sister’s story blanketed me with emotions that only layered on the anguish I was already entrenched in.
“Bruce was relentless in sharing his disapproval. I sat at several uncomfortable family dinners, listening to him berate her. I should have intervened.”
My voice wavered as I added, “I resented my mom for being a silent bystander to his verbal abuse, but in reality, I was the same. Family dinners eventually ended. They’d become battlegrounds, so my mother stopped arranging them.
I was newly graduated, had just returned from my first European work trip, and was attending my cousin’s baptism. Caroline and my parents also attended.”