Chapter 8
Karan
The old sink groans as Will and I wrestle it free from its mounting. My shoulders burn from the awkward angle, but we manage to lift it clear without anything catastrophic happening.
“Not bad for two guys who spend their days in front of a computer screen,” Will chuckles, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
I can't help but laugh. “Yeah, who knew all those hours spent writing code would translate to actual manual labor? To be fair though, you do way more than stare at a computer screen all day.”
On top of his work at a business consulting firm for small businesses, Will helps Sophie run her party planning business.
“Same shit, though. None of this.” His eyes gesture to the sink as we both grab hold of it.
We set the old sink carefully against the wall, and I take a moment to stretch my back. The bathroom is small, and it makes every movement feel confined, especially at my size.
Kind of like my life lately.
Will’s already examining the new fixture, but I can tell by the way he keeps glancing at me that he has something on his mind. That’s the thing about Will. He’s been my brother in law for so long that he’s gotten terrible at hiding his thoughts from me. Rachel's the same way.
Rachel.
My chest tightens at the thought of my wife. Last weekend, we moved her sister into our guest bedroom. The move went fine, and if I’m being honest, it’s sweet to see how happy the boys are to have their aunt with us.
The issue isn’t Océane, though. It’s the way Rachel seems to be icing me out.
“Hey, Will?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “How do you and Sophie make it work? With the crazy schedules and everything?”
I don’t mention the three kids. They may not be Will’s children, but they might as well be, with the way he’s been stepping up.
“It just seems like your life has been chaos for the past year,” I add.
Yet, despite the chaos, he and Sophie are still going strong. After more than a year, they still look at each other like they did in those first weeks.
Will straightens up, his expression turning serious. “We make time. Even if it’s just fifteen minutes of actual conversation while brushing our teeth.”
Make time.
That simple statement hits me like a truck.
I grab a wrench for the sole purpose of having something to do with my hands.
He pauses, studying me. “Everything okay with you and Rachel?”
“I don’t know, man. Something’s off.”
Will frowns. “Off how?”
“I don’t know, but it’s like… she doesn’t talk to me like she used to.”
I think back to the last conversation we had that lasted more than five minutes that wasn’t about the kids or the minutia of running the house.
The answer has my heart sinking to my feet.
The fight we had at karaoke night nearly two weeks ago. That was the last time.
“Well, do you try to talk to her?” Will asks.
“I do, but it’s hard.” I deposit the wrench on the brand new sink, instead focusing on scratching my cuticles. “My job’s been running me ragged. By the time I’m home, I’m exhausted, and Rachel is already done with dinner with the kids. I haven’t touched my game project in, like, over a year.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
Will enjoys playtesting the small game concept I’ve been developing on my own time.
When I had my own time.
“There’s that, and then there’s dealing with family stu—” I stop myself, but it’s too late.
Will’s eyes narrow slightly. “Family stuff. You mean your mom?”
I focus intently on the cuticle of my thumb. I don’t know what Rachel has told Will, but my immediate urge is to come to Mom’s defense.
“She means well.”
“Yeah?” Will’s voice is carefully neutral, but an edge hides underneath. “Does she mean well when she undermines Rachel's parenting decisions? Or when she shows up unannounced and expects everyone to drop everything for her? Or when she asks you to cancel your plans with us?”
“It's not that simple.” I pull on a stray piece of cuticle and draw blood. “She’s family, and—”
“I'm going to stop you right there, because I need you to understand something.” Will sets down the pipe he's holding and turns to face me fully. “You need to remember where Rachel’s coming from, man. And you know exactly what Rachel and I did when our parents became toxic. We went no contact. Cold turkey. It was the hardest thing we’ve ever done, but we did it because we had to protect Océane. And ourselves.”
His eyes are hard. I let out a small grunt.
“So,” he continues, “you can imagine that the type of blind devotion you have towards your parents is a bit hard for us to understand.”
My large hand bangs against the counter as I set it down too hard. “That's different. Your parents we—”
“Abusive? Yeah. But toxicity comes in many forms, man.” Will’s voice softens.
“Look, I'm not saying your mom is anything like our parents. That’d be completely ridiculous. And I know she’s been dealing with a lot, with the cancer and all.
But to me and Rachel, blood is not thicker than water.
She might not understand why someone would let their family walk all over them. ”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t raised that way,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Family is everything. You don’t turn your back on family. No matter what.”
I can’t imagine being in the same scenario as Will, Rachel, and Océane, and having to choose to go no contact with their parents. My parents put a lot of pressure on me, but they’ve been my rock throughout my life.
Will picks up the pipe again, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “You married Rachel. She’s your family too.”
The words hit me as hard as if Will had struck me across the face with the pipe.
Of course, Rachel is my family. She’s the mother of my children, the love of my life, my partner in everything. Or at least, she used to be.
When did I stop treating her that way?