Chapter 31 Lindsey
LINDSEY
Determined not to let me mope alone, the girls insist on having a pre-holiday sleepover on Christmas Eve Eve at Lucy and Willow’s to cheer me up.
Kayla and Ellie arrive just after I do with a smorgasbord of goodies in an effort to cheer me up, including tacos from the little food truck that comes to town a couple times a week, which I pick at, despite how delicious they are.
“I got you some Hot Tamales,” Willow says, handing me the colorful box of candy as she takes a seat beside me on the couch. “I know they’re your favorite.”
I give her a weak smile. “Thanks, Wil.”
“Lucy told me you got some good news today,” she says. “I know you’ll be glad to be back in your house again.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I say. “It’ll be nice.” I’ve been in such a funk that I couldn’t even muster a speck of excitement when the insurance adjuster called with the news that I’m clear to move home at the end of January.
In a few short weeks, I’ll be on my own again.
A couple months ago, that might’ve made me happy, but now all it does is remind me of how alone I am.
Lucy bounds into the room with a flowery tote. “I got sheet masks and some of those treatments that make your feet shed like a snake.”
“Ew.” Ellie wrinkles her nose as she enters with a charcuterie board full of movie candies, placing it on the coffee table. “I’ll pass on that part.”
“Gimme one of those foot thingies,” Kayla says, flopping at my other side. “I’m going out for New Year’s Eve. I want these puppies to be baby soft, so that when I take my heels off after wearing them for approximately five seconds, my feet won’t resemble the claws of a velociraptor.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“My cousin invited me to some fancy shindig in Nashville. Thought you might want to be my plus-one?” She nudges me with her elbow. “If you’re feeling up to it.”
“Maybe,” I offer, though at the moment, the idea of going out is about as unappealing as yanking out my own tooth with a pair of pliers.
“So, what movie should we start with?” Ellie asks, grabbing the remote. “The Holiday or Love Actually?”
“Maybe we should steer clear of rom-coms tonight,” Lucy suggests. “We’ll be subjected to enough of those tomorrow at Mom’s, anyway.”
Ellie nods. “The Nightmare Before Christmas it is.”
“Thank y’all for doing this,” I say. “I know this probably isn’t how any of you wanted to spend the night before Christmas Eve.”
Kayla squeezes my knee. “There’s nowhere we’d rather be.”
“How are you holding up?” Willow asks.
“I’m kind of a mess,” I admit. The corners of my eyes are already stinging with fresh tears. How I still have any moisture left in my body is beyond me.
“Talk to us. That’s what we’re here for.” Lucy sits cross-legged on the floor, unwrapping a foot mask and sliding it on.
I press the back of my head into the cushion and blow out a breath before filling the girls in on what happened the night Oliver went to the hospital and the memories that dredged up for me.
“I care about Oliver, and the idea of something like that happening to him is terrifying,” I explain. “And the closer we get, the harder it’ll be if something bad happens, you know?”
Ellie nods. “I understand why this whole thing would shake you up and make you rethink what you’re ready for.”
“But do you think it's possible you might have jumped the gun on pulling the plug?” Willow asks, a hint of trepidation in her voice as she places her hand over mine.
My chin falls to my chest, and I press my hand over my heart in an attempt to dull the ache that’s been throbbing just beneath the surface since I walked away from Oliver last week.
“No. I did it because I had to.” My words aren’t convincing to anyone, least of all me.
“Did you, though?” Kayla asks gently.
“I really need you guys to support me right now.”
“We do,” Ellie says. “No matter what.”
“Linds, when you were with Oliver, you were happier than I’ve seen you since…
well, maybe ever,” Lucy admits. “We just want to make sure you’re doing what’s best for you and that you’re not making this choice based on some hypothetical situation that hasn’t happened yet. Something that may never happen.”
“Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to say.” Kayla props her elbow on the back of the sofa and leans against her arm. “But I think you’ve been looking for a way out. You’re self-sabotaging.”
“I am not,” I argue, heat climbing up my neck.
“You never told Oliver about your fibromyalgia and why you overslept on his birthday,” Kayla points out. “You were afraid for him to see any part of you that wasn’t sunshiny and happy and perfect. Then this whole thing happened and you ran. But the truth is, you already had one foot out the door.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, but as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie.
Kayla gives me a knowing look, and I drop my gaze.
She’s the only one here who knows the full extent of what happened with Daniel.
I never told my family because it would’ve done nothing but add more hurt to an already painful time.
It would have shifted attention to me when the focus needed to be on our mother.
“I think you have to really get honest with yourself about why you decided to walk away,” Willow says.
I worried about my shadows being too much for Oliver because they were too much for Daniel.
Sometimes they’re even too much for me. I feared getting too close because of how suddenly I lost my dad.
His death showed me how easily my world could come to a screeching halt, throwing me out of orbit, sending me hurtling through the darkness.
If I could just keep him at arm’s length, I could avoid the anguish that came from being too much for Oliver or too close to him.
To anyone.
“The bottom line is, we love you,” Lucy speaks up. “We’re here for you.”
“But you clearly think I made a mistake,” I say. “You all do.”
“We don’t know that,” Ellie replies. “We can’t know that.”
Kayla leans her head against mine. “But even if you did, it doesn’t matter. We’re always going to be in your corner.”
“She’s right, you know.” Willow pokes me in the arm. “We love you.”
“I love y’all too,” I say.
“Me most of all, of course.” Lucy beams, rifling through her sack of goodies. “Look, we’re here to help you feel better, and I think I have just the thing.” She plucks out five thin packages, holding them up proudly.
“Whatcha got there, Mary Poppins?” Kayla asks.
Lucy flashes us a mischievous grin and tears open one of the packets, placing a printed sheet mask on her face that I think is supposed to look like the Grinch but more closely resembles an alien.
“That is…truly frightening,” I say with a laugh.
“Oh, just put them on.” Lucy passes out the remaining masks before squeezing in next to Willow on the couch, resting her feet in her lap.
We do as she says, and Kayla reaches for a Red Vine. “You guys ready to start the movie?”
They look to me, and I manage a weak smile. “Sure.”
The next morning, I stop by the office on the way back to Mom’s for Christmas Eve under the guise of calling to check on a patient whose number I forgot to bring home. Lucy knows there’s no such patient but goes along with the story, letting our mother know I’m going to be a little late.
Even after Ellie and Kayla left to go home, Willow and Lucy stayed up to watch movies with me.
Once I finally convinced them to go to bed, I laid on their couch in the dark beneath a pile of blankets for hours.
Their words haunted me like a ghost lingering in the corner of the room.
The pain in my body had finally subsided, but the hurt in my heart had only grown.
Did I react too quickly? Was I just self-sabotaging? And even if I was, does that mean my actions were wrong? Maybe I did blow everything up, but I did it to avoid an even bigger explosion later. I’d rather deal with the fallout from a bottle rocket than a stick of dynamite.
The bells hanging from the front door jingle loudly as I enter through the front lobby, closing the door with a thud.
The office is silent, but I can still hear the echoes of my father’s robust laugh.
It’s harder to hear when the clinic is abuzz and filled with patients, but when everything is quiet, that’s when his memory comes alive.
And right now, I just want to feel close to him.
In some ways, this place looks different, a byproduct of five years of growth.
But then there are the things that remain the same.
The artwork left exactly where my father hung it.
A small gash in the wall from the time he tried to move one of the exam tables by himself.
The pen marks etched in the desk where he used to fill out paperwork. So many pieces of him linger here.
Of course, I feel his presence in my childhood home, but there’s something special about this place.
Something that’s so completely him. I can almost smell the scent of his coffee as I bounded into his office after school when I was sixteen, working as the receptionist. I can almost see him round the corner in his white coat, his wire rim glasses sliding down his nose.
I step into my office, the one that was once his, and pick up the picture of the two of us. I study his broad smile and the lines that map his face, every road where laughter and sorrow intersected on display.
“I’m a mess, Dad,” I say to his image, frozen in time. “I wish you were here.”
My phone buzzes from inside my coat pocket, and for half a second, I hope it’s Oliver. But reality sets in when I pry it out and see my sister’s name on the screen.
You okay?
I tap out a quick reply.
Yeah. About to head that way.
I go to lock the phone, but stop, hovering my finger over the button.
Instead, I swipe my finger over my message threads until I find Oliver’s name.
Is he okay? Is he working or home alone?
Did he decide to fly back to Texas last minute?
So many questions to which I don’t have the right to know the answers.
I know he probably doesn’t want to hear from me, but I can’t allow this day to go by without letting him know he’s on my mind.
I’m sorry. I miss you. My thumbs tap out the words, only to delete them. I start and stop about a hundred sentences before I finally land on one.
Merry Christmas, Oliver.
Almost immediately the bubbles pop up to let me know he’s typing, and my heart leaps into my throat.
What is he typing? Will he simply acknowledge the text and move on?
Does he miss me too? What if we can work this out?
Maybe I just need some time and we can start over.
With every possibility, my hopes rise until they’re threatening to burst through the ceiling.
But after a moment the bubbles vanish. I wait in that spot for nearly five minutes, barely blinking for fear I’ll miss something.
They never appear again.
I busy myself most of the day by playing with Noah and Emily while made-for-TV holiday movies play in the background.
Occasionally, other family members sit in with us before returning to the kitchen for more snacks or returning to whatever sappy Christmas flick happens to be on.
Focusing on numerous rounds of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders makes it easy to tune out the love stories on the television while the fireplace crackles.
After a seemingly endless amount of games, Emily yawns and leans her head against me, the citrus scent of her detangler so sweet and familiar. I swipe an errant curl from her face.
“Are you tired, sweet girl?” I ask, and she gives me a sleepy nod.
Ellie rises from the couch. “How about we go lie down?”
Emily peers at me through her thick lashes.
“Aunt Lindsey take me,” she mumbles, and my heart squeezes.
“Of course, I will,” I say, scooping her into my arms
“Thanks, Linds,” Ben says.
Ellie gives me an appreciative smile as Emily rests her head on my shoulder.
I carry her upstairs to the room she and Noah share when they stay at my mom’s, tucking her into the small bed. She’s so tired she doesn’t fight it. Instead, she snuggles under the covers, and I smooth my hand over her silky hair.
“There you go,” I say, pulling the quilt tight around her. “You want Jasper?”
She murmurs a “yes,” so I grab Jasper, the teddy bear she’s slept with every single night since I can remember, from the dresser and nestle him beside her.
“You want me to stay till you fall asleep?” I ask, and she nods.
I lay beside her, gently rubbing her back the way I’ve always done. When Noah and Emily were both babies, this was how I got them to sleep when they stayed with me or if I babysat them. Noah has already outgrown this type of affection, so I soak up as much of this time with Emily while I still can.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and my chest blooms with hope that it’s Oliver.
I reach for it, careful not to disturb Emily, who’s already fast asleep.
I illuminate the screen, and my heart aches.
It’s Kayla checking in to see how I’m doing.
I swipe over to Oliver’s text thread, which still shows my last message as read with no response from him. I doubt there ever will be.
A knot forms in my stomach. I ruined the best shot I ever had at love, at having the kind of happiness my mom and dad had together, all because I was too much of a damn coward to take a leap of faith. Oliver sprints into burning buildings, while I run at the first sign of trouble.
Silent tears slip down my cheeks, leaving tiny pools of regret staining the pillow.
I’ve spent these last few years convincing myself I didn’t want anyone else in my life because it was easier than opening myself up to potential heartbreak.
I told myself I was okay with the clinic being my baby and just being a cool aunt—that I didn’t need anyone.
And I don’t. But maybe I want someone.
Even as the thought forms in my mind, I know I don’t just want someone.
I want Oliver.
But it’s too late. For all I know, he may have already moved on. Maybe there was someone waiting in the wings who already snapped him up—someone who wasn’t afraid to walk through the fire.