Chapter 57
FIFTY-SEVEN
DAISY
I run my hands over the wooden dining table in my parents’ kitchen.
It’s marked by years of family dinners and dozens of study sessions.
I don’t remember a time where this table wasn’t the center point in our house.
It feels bittersweet sitting here now, listening to the sound of Mom rummaging through cupboards and drawers for pie ingredients.
I’m sure she’s signed up to do another two dozen for the parade later this weekend.
“If I knew you were bringing a friend I would have come to get you.”
I try hard to ignore the fact that I wasn’t important enough for her to drop what she had in her hands to collect me. She’s had the boys all morning. It’s a full house.
I glance out of the screen door where Connor is playing tag with my younger brothers and tell myself it doesn’t matter that she didn’t collect me, because Connor decided to fly halfway across the country with me and booked a car for us.
“I’m so happy your flight made it on time. We were supposed to get a storm coming through. Good thing it didn’t, or you would be stuck out east.”
If she only knew.
My hands curl around the cup of coffee, letting the warmth soothe me as I take a steeling breath. “I don’t want to move home.” I rush the words out with the exhale of breath.
“I know it must be hard to leave your friends, but—”
“I’m not coming home,” I say again, putting more force behind the words until it’s no longer sounding like a confession but like the statement it is. “I’m staying in Southbay after the summer ends.”
She blinks at me. I think I’ve stunned her into silence.
I stare down into my coffee instead, because I’m scared that whatever emotion I’ll see on her face when she catches up to what I just told her will make me take it all back.
I’ve been living in a bubble of bliss for the last two weeks.
It’s made it easy to ignore the rest of the world, until I had to get on a flight and come back home for the summer festival.
I don’t want anyone to change my mind or make me feel guilty about choosing me for once.
Through the screen door, the faint noise of Connor playing catch with my brothers in the backyard makes its way into the kitchen. It makes me want to curl up in one of the deck chairs and watch them. I love how great he is with kids. I love everything he does. I love him.
“I thought you wanted to move home? Your whole life is here.”
“Is it so bad that I want more?” I ask the wooden tabletop, my voice barely audible in the kitchen. “I like my life there. I like who I am there.”
“And you can’t be that here?” she asks, sounding defeated. I keep my eyes locked on the old water rings etched into the dining table. Tales of years with all of us here.
I blink fast, trying to stave off the frustrated tears threatening to spill. It hurts to swallow, around the lump that’s lodged itself at the back of my throat.
How do you accurately describe feeling like all of the missing pieces of myself are slowly being stitched together outside of here.
Or that I hope with enough time I’ll finally feel whole again here too.
How do you let yourself be heard when you know the raw honesty of it will hurt someone you love?
I’ve never been good at striking that balance, between staying true to myself and compromising for the sake of someone else.
I guess that’s the curse of being the eldest daughter.
“It’s not the same. I can’t—I don’t know how to explain it.”
A gentle hand on my shoulder is what makes me finally look up.
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me.
” I blink up at her, confused. This is uncharted territory for us.
I can’t remember the last time I asked for something for myself without having to explain why I need it or having someone try to undermine it.
“You’re all grown up now. Only you get to choose how you write your story. ”
“You’re okay with me not moving back home?”
She smiles softly. “I’ll always want you here. Do I love the idea of having you close and seeing you every day? Yes, but if you’re happier somewhere else then I’m happy for you.”
“So, you’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be?”
“For not helping out more.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” She sighs.
“You’ve always been the strong one. I never had to worry about you, because you knew how to handle yourself.
You were so determined even from an early age.
But maybe I should’ve worried more about you—maybe there were things I didn’t see and should have. I’m sorry.”
I bite back the first instinct to tell her it’s okay, to brush it all off as if it’s nothing. But that has gotten me nowhere, so I bite it back and let the apology hang in the air between us while she strokes my cheek.
I slip my arms around her waist and hold her to me, letting my head fall against her soft stomach.
She lets me hold her, slipping her hands into my hair and combing her fingers through it the way she always did when I was a kid and would fall asleep with my head in her lap.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt like a child in this house.
“Thank you,” I mumble against her shirt, while I hug her closer to me.
She keeps stroking my hair while I cling to her. She lets me pull away first and I didn’t realize how much I needed her to hold me until that moment. She bends and presses a kiss against my brow, and I close my eyes, soaking up the feeling. “Anytime you need me from now on, I promise I’ll be here.”
And while it’s not perfect and won’t erase all the years I spent needing her when she wasn’t there, it’s enough. I cling to the feeling, when I slip out of the screen door and curl up in the deck chair, looking at the man I love slot right into my family like he was made for it.