Fifteen Geny
It’s almost dark by the time we get home.
I hate when it starts to get dark earlier.
This late chill in the air reminds me that summer really is over.
But while everything else begins to die, something new is blooming to life for me.
A second chance for a life with my sister.
My sister who drowns and lives and disappears and comes back. My sister who won’t tell me the truth.
She was always like that. She liked to call herself a prankster. A joker. But everyone else called her a liar. Not to her face. Never to her face. But it’s what she was. I loved her unconditionally, but she was indeed a liar. And it seems she still is.
I saw the nostalgia on her face at the baseball fields.
The way she told her lie makes it easy for her to make mistakes with what she’s supposed to remember and not.
It’s not straight forward. I remember some things and not others.
Parts of things. But I know her better than she thinks I do.
I know the way her face changes when she’s remembering something, reminiscing.
She used to do that a lot. Reminisce about times when we were younger. She saw the past through rose-colored glasses. Not that the past was bad. But it wasn’t what she pretended it was either. And she had a pretty great present for someone who liked to live in the past.
I watch her climb out of the car and follow Carter up the stairs, still talking to him excitedly about his hit on his last at bat.
Wyatt and Jack took his truck to pick up a pizza.
Wyatt suggested it for dinner, and I thought Grace might cry.
Tannie’s Pizza is a local legend and was Grace’s favorite.
She and Wyatt used to do all their big dates either there or with one of their pizzas on the beach.
Between that and Grace buying his favorite snack, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a little insecure. I shouldn’t be. They were in love when they were kids. Wyatt and I grew into adulthood together. We got married. We have children together. A mortgage.
But then so do plenty of people and they still have affairs or get divorced.
I push the thought out of my head. Grace wouldn’t do that to me. Neither would Wyatt.
Jack helps Grace carry in her things when he gets back with the pizza.
We all separate to get changed into our pajamas, and Grace does the same, disappearing downstairs.
I help Carter get into the shower to wash off the dust and gravel from the fields.
He’s only just started to do showers instead of baths, but he can pretty much get it done on his own.
I lay out a towel and his pajamas for him and go get changed myself.
Pajamas and pizza. It was a thing Wyatt’s family did with him and his brother growing up.
Something I was never a part of, but Grace was.
The sting is there again. It’s supposed to be our passed-down family tradition, but my sister was part of the original.
I’m the third wheel in my own home, the way I used to feel when we were teenagers.
On the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of pizzas and all kinds of side dishes we don’t normally get. Once we’re all changed, we get plates of food and take them to the living room. Pizza nights are the only nights we eat in the living room.
Everyone talks almost effortlessly. It’s incredible how easily Grace fits into any space.
I was never like that. Even my mood lifts.
Grace asks the kids tons of questions, getting to know them.
It’s the safer topics, and I relax as Jack and Carter talk animatedly with their aunt.
Jack seems younger as he laughs and tells stories.
He’s so mature and grown up these days, but every once in a while I get a glimpse of the little kid he used to be.
The one he still is underneath the cool teenager facade and his desire to be a grown man.
Eventually, everyone finishes eating, and Carter starts to doze off on the floor.
I tilt my head toward Carter. “Looks like it’s time for bed.”
Jack sighs. “It’s the weekend. I can put Carter to bed if you want, but can I stay out here a little longer?”
I shake my head. “It’s been a long day. I think everyone could use the rest. I’ll let you stay up late next weekend.”
He huffs.
“Watch it,” Wyatt says. “You heard your mother. Don’t talk back.”
Jack stands without another sound. “Goodnight,” he mumbles.
“Night, Jack. See you tomorrow,” Grace says, an apologetic sound in her voice.
I want to thank Wyatt for stepping in, but the words won’t leave my throat.
He used to do that more. Get after the boys when they talked back or disobeyed me.
He stopped doing it though. For a long time, he’d sit silently by as I argued with the kids, trying to get them to listen to me.
I’m grateful he spoke up tonight, but I can’t help thinking it was more for Grace than it was for me.
“Are you coming to bed?” I ask Wyatt.
My face heats up. Wyatt hasn’t actually slept in our bed in months.
He started sleeping on the couch. It seemed accidental at first. He’s a night owl and would stay up late watching TV.
He’d fall asleep out there and never make it back to bed.
But then he started bringing his pillow and a spare blanket with him. It became intentional.
But I refuse to leave him out here with Grace.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, and I try to hide the overwhelming relief.
He stands and we go upstairs, murmuring our goodnights as we go. I hear the buzz of a phone as I walk away and I look back. Grace looks at the phone screen and quickly presses it to her ear and hurries to the kitchen. Who is she talking to this late?
I keep following Wyatt upstairs but feel an internal tug as I get farther from Grace. My sister and I shared a room our whole lives before that night. We had the space for separate bedrooms, but we never wanted to split up.
That summer, we would finally be separating and the thought made my chest feel tight. But we’d graduated high school. We’d be going to college and moving out. She would marry Wyatt and start a family and I’d be left behind.
“My stuff is still downstairs,” Wyatt says, shattering the memory.
“Right. I’ll get it,” I say.
“I can—”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”
I retrace my steps to retrieve Wyatt’s pillows and mouth guard that stay tucked between the side of the couch and the wall. I keep my ears peeled, hoping Grace has gone downstairs to her bed. When I get to the living room, I’m alone and I exhale, my shoulders relaxing.
I’m grateful for the unspoken agreement Wyatt and I seem to have made to hide our relationship issues from my sister. I don’t want her to know we’ve been struggling. I’m terrified her being back will be the final tear in the rope I’ve been clinging to.
This isn’t at all what I had planned, but I refuse to see it as anything but a blessing. My sister is alive. She didn’t die that night. We have another chance.
Wyatt sits on the edge of the bed when I get back. I hand him his things and go around to my side of the bed. Having him here feels strange. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone to bed together. I slip beneath the blankets and goosebumps spread across my skin.
I watch Wyatt strip down to his underwear before shutting off the light and lying down beside me.
I can’t help but think of him and all those nights in his truck, tugging his shirt over his head and undoing his belt with a devilish grin that nearly put me into cardiac arrest. The nights that never should have happened but did.
I am not a good sister. I almost never was.
But I have a second chance, and I somehow have to make things right with Grace without giving up everything I feel I’ve taken from her.
It’s a balance that I don’t know exists, but I’m going to try.
First and foremost is figuring out what she’s lying about and why.
What really happened that night and the eighteen years that followed?