Chapter 21 #2
I thought I’d be more homesick after moving, but I haven’t felt a longing for my parents until recently.
After living under the same roof my entire life, save my few years in Ft.
Ulysses, I needed the space. My parents have never been overbearing, and returning to my childhood home after living on my own for a few years wasn’t that difficult, but I’m happy to be the head of my own household for once.
Some may find it strange that I chose to remain at my parents’ home instead of getting a place for Sunny and me while we still lived in Moraine, but it worked well for us.
At first it was necessary — what with being a twenty-one-year-old insta-parent while mourning my sister and brother-in-law — but by the time Sunny turned four we had a rhythm, a routine.
We weren’t a burden on my parents, nor were they on us. We were simply a family.
If we hadn’t lived with my parents the past nine years, my savings account wouldn’t be anywhere close to what it is now and I’d have to work another job to keep the bills paid.
I can’t imagine working full-time hours in addition to school, working with Dr. Matthews, and parenting.
So, even though I hadn’t intentionally saved on rent for nearly a decade to prepare for returning to school, I’m thankful things worked out the way they have.
The smell of pizza coming toward this office alerts me to Dexter’s arrival, and I look up just in time to watch him walk through the office door with a giant pie in hand and a plastic bag with what looks to be bottled water, plates, and napkins.
“Holy cow! You don’t expect us to eat all that, do you?!” My eyes are wide open in shock. That thing could feed four adults a complete meal, at least.
Dexter grins as he sets the pizza onto the coffee table in his office sitting area. “You forget I’ve shared a pizza with you before. I’m privy to your gluttonous obsession with the food.”
I glare at him and set the quizzes aside, taking the bottled water Dexter offers to me. I uncap it to take a drink before responding. “You’re one to talk. I’ve seen you inhale one or twenty slices of pizza these past few months.”
“I’m not the one complaining about having too much of a good thing. That’s you.” He winks at me before opening the box and handing me a slice.
We’ve kept our weekly meetings professional, but I’d be remiss not to acknowledge the comfortable somewhat friendship we’ve developed by sharing lunch during those meetings.
Our level of comfort with each other has increased since the day he stopped by my apartment and I told him about losing my sister and becoming Sunny’s mother.
Couple comfort with my increasingly lustful thoughts of him and I’m not sure how much longer I can withstand his charm.
Dexter
“I’m not complaining!” she laughs, mid-bite, cheese stringing from the slice to her teeth. She tries to hide her food-laugh fumble behind her other hand, but it’s not working.
My God, she’s stunning.
Teaching with Alis in close proximity is nearly impossible, yet I’ve managed these last few days.
I want her in so many ways. Not just physically but emotionally, intellectually, the works.
I want to know what she’s thinking when I catch her watching me lecture, when her brow furrows while grading papers, when she laughs then suddenly stops, forcing herself back into professional mode when she catches herself letting go of formality in my presence.
Like now. She’s carefree and laughing while we talk and share dinner.
I could have sat in one of the club chairs, but my ever-growing need to be near her had me opting for the couch instead. We have space between us, but I wouldn’t have to reach far to touch her. I can smell her perfume in this proximity, and I’m becoming more of an addict by the second.
“So, how’s Sunny?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t clam up at the mention of her personal life. She holds up a finger while she finishes chewing, then, thankfully, responds without hesitation.
“Great, actually,” the smile on her face lights up the room.
“She’s making friends at school, loves her teacher.
She and Skye have always been close, so having her live with us has been wonderful.
I’m sure right now they’re sitting on the couch, probably eating ice cream for dinner, and watching the Kardashians or some other dumb reality show.
” She finishes that last sentence with a laugh and an eye roll.
“I only met her the one time, but none of what you just said surprises me. That kid is a firecracker. And your friend,” I shake my head and laugh, “she’s something else.”
Alis laughs along and rolls her eyes once more, “You have no idea. The two of them together is often overwhelming. Who knew two people could make so much noise?!”
“I figured you’d be used to constant noise, having a kid.”
“I mean, yes. And also no,” she says. “I love that my house is full of laughter and sarcastic comments, but Sunny is so much like her mom, who was the total opposite of me. Belle was always full steam ahead, and Sunny is the same way. I swear that kid never runs out of energy. I love to be around people, but I’m easily overwhelmed and need space and quiet to recharge.
It’s hard to find that, living with two extroverts in a 1,000-square-foot apartment. ”
She doesn’t often talk about her sister, so I take the opportunity to prod a bit deeper. “You’ve mentioned your sister before. How was she different from you?”
A soft smile graces Alis’s face and she looks out my office window as she answers. “Belle was … she was amazing in every way.”
“Doesn’t sound any different from you yet,” I interject. Her cheeks flush at my comment.
She looks back to me and continues. “Belle had a never-ending supply of positive energy. She was the life of the party, but not in an arrogant way. She didn’t cause a scene to make herself the center of attention; people just couldn’t help but be drawn to her.
She was snarky and sarcastic without being rude.
She was beautiful and popular, but not in a Mean Girls kind of way.
She had this way of making you feel like the most important person in the world when in a conversation.
Like, um, how do I explain it …” she pauses, trying to put words to her thoughts.
“She focused her attention on the person she was speaking with instead of multitasking?” I ask.
Alis snaps her fingers and points in confirmation. “Yes! Exactly!” The smile on her face as she continues gushing about her sister is incredible. I’ve seen her happy plenty of times over the last few months, but I’ve never seen her light up quite this much.
“She was my very best friend. And I don’t just say that because she’s gone and I only think about the good times.
She truly was my very best friend. Never treated me like a nuisance or a child.
Never made me feel insecure or awkward about my introverted personality.
I mean, she definitely pushed me to live outside my comfort zone, but not in a way that made me feel pressured or like something was wrong with me. ”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask. “Why would you ever think there was something wrong with you?”
“Poor word choice. What I meant was that Belle never made me feel awkward for being introverted or for living in my own comfort bubble. She wanted me to go on adventures with her and she certainly talked me into doing a lot of crazy stuff I’d never have had the nerve to do on my own, but she was encouraging about it. Not demeaning. Does that make sense?”
I nod, and she continues.
She pauses again and laughs, shaking her head and looking down at the empty paper plate she’s fidgeting with on her lap.
“She took risks — ran off to Ireland for a semester abroad, fell in love at first sight, and eloped with her husband two weeks later. I thought mom was going to have a stroke when Belle called and said, ‘I’m a Donnelly!’”
Alis is now using her entire upper body to tell the story and it’s mesmerizing to watch her light up this way.
“At first my mom thought a Donnelly was some sort of Irish slang, and when she asked for clarification Belle squealed, ‘I’m married! Alex and I eloped!’ I laughed so hard at the expression on her face.
She froze for a few seconds until Belle said, ‘Mom?’ and then she snapped out of it and yelled for my dad to get his ass in the kitchen before she strangled their oldest through the phone. ”
“Damn,” I laugh.
“Seriously. I thought my dad would take mom’s side and say she was crazy for eloping after only knowing the guy for two weeks, but he didn’t.
He asked her if he was a good man, and she said yes.
He asked if she was in love, and she said yes.
Then he asked to talk to Alex and she handed over the phone to him.
Dad asked him the same questions and then said, ‘Alright. I don’t know you, but I know my daughter and I trust that she wouldn’t have hitched herself to you if she wasn’t certain you are what she wants.
Be good to her. Make sure you bring her back at the end of the semester, and we’ll be good.
Try to keep her in Ireland, and I’ll gut you.
’” At this point, Alis can barely talk through her laughter.
Her dad sounds great, and also terrifying.
“How did Alex react to that?” I ask.
“He said, ‘Yes, sir. We’ll see you in December.’ And then they got off the phone.” She shrugs her shoulders as if to say the end.
Alis calms her laughter and then lets out a wistful sigh.
“They flew home at the end of the semester and built their life in Moraine. You’d think the extroverted sister would want to spend her life traveling the world and living all over the place, but Belle was always certain that she wanted a family, and she wanted to raise that family in Moraine.
I, on the other hand, never imagined I’d live there again once I left for college.
It took me a while to adjust to living back home after she passed. ”
“I can see how much you loved her,” I say, laying my hand on her intertwined fingers now resting on her lap. Her breath hitches at the contact but she doesn’t pull away from my touch; instead, she looks up into my eyes, slowly, and breathes out, “Yeah. I did. I really, really did.”
I tempt fate and leave my hand where it lay, stroking my thumb over hers. “You’re more like her than you think,” I say quietly, looking up from our hands and into her eyes.
Alis scrunches her brow. “How can you say that when you didn’t know her?” she asks, not in a snarky way but as if she’s genuinely wondering how I came to this conclusion.
“You’re right. I didn’t know her. But I know you, and I know everything you’ve told me about her. I haven’t heard a single thing about Belle that couldn’t be said about you as well.”
I pause, tilting my head to the side a bit, and I squeeze her hand as I jest, “Well, except for enjoying being the center of attention and eloping after knowing someone for only two weeks. You seem the type to be more keen on sleeping in the Parisian catacombs than having a spotlight pointed at you.”
Alis responds by chuckling and rolling her eyes. “I don’t know that I’d go that far, but you’re right that being singled out in a group of people is pretty much my worst nightmare.”
“I think teaching is your exception,” I comment. She looks down at our hands, still one on top of the other, and blushes.
“Thank you,” she says, and then calmly and slowly slides her hands from under mine. Sliding her gaze from our hands to the stack of papers on the table, Alis takes the opportunity to venture out of personal conversation territory and back to the task at hand.
She nods her head toward the coffee table and says, “We should grade.”