Chapter 4
Iam awoken early by the shuffling of luggage and a teary-eyed Winnie yanking on my sleeve.
“Grampy and Nan are leaving soon,” she pouts.
Mom and Paul have decided to spend the summer working on expanding his land development company down in Florida where the hurricanes hit the hardest. He plans on opening an entire office and branch of the business down there.
A branch my mom has encouraged me to consider applying to once it’s up and running.
While I do believe they want to help those communities and make good business, I also think maybe it has something to do with the fact the two can’t seem to ever be warm enough.
Even in the centerfold of July. Mom insists the cold messes with her undiagnosed arthritis, Paul says he’s a much bigger fan of the Miami Dolphins rather than the Chicago Bears.
Mom also implores that the humidity is good for her knees and Paul swears that people live longer in subtropical climates.
Regardless of their reason, they only stayed in Illinois as long as they did because of my divorce hearing and Winnie’s recital. Otherwise, I think they would have been down there months ago.
I pull myself out of bed and join Winnie on the front porch steps with a cup of coffee. We watch them pack far too many bags into the back of the Uber and giggle as Paul and Mom struggle to make it all fit.
“Alright my girls,” Paul sighs when he finally was able to get the rear hatch to shut. “We gotta go. That plane won’t wait for us, and I have a dinner meeting tonight at The Clevelander that we can’t miss.”
Winnie throws herself into his arms, burying her head in his chest to hide the tears on her cheeks. Paul scoops her up and places a flurry of kisses into her hair, making her laugh before putting her back down.
“You better call me and answer when I call you, got it?” His sternness only makes her laugh more. Paul has never raised a voice at, well, at anyone. He is nothing but wrinkled smiles and soft encouragement. He’s everything this emotionally wrecked group of girls needed. And more.
Mom makes a much smaller show of affection as she hugs us and tells us to not lay around the house all summer.
By now, however, I know she tends to mask emotions because she doesn’t want to let them explode like she used to.
When she was with my dad, it was explosive until one or the other would be locking themselves away, avoiding the fallout.
She has become tactful and efficient in her dealing of any big emotions.
She blows us a kiss, then gets into the back seat with Paul. We wave them out of sight and find our way inside to our favorite activity. Movies on the couch with a blanket, a snack and a pretty candle burning nearby.
We make plans for a summer with no parents. We deduce our list down to dancing barefoot as much as possible, eating popsicles by the koi pond, having a sleepover in the living room, pizza parties, going swimming and looking into the summer camp at the Y.
The entire day is spent lounging and laying and avoiding any and all responsibility.
We order delivery for lunch and dinner. We check eating popsicles out back in the garden next to the pond off our list. I text Tanner the entire day off and on.
I don’t shower, hell, I don’t even get out of my pajamas.
Sticking to tradition, however, I do put on Dateline after I get Winnie into bed.
Our days used to be like this. Maybe not so footloose and fancy-free, but just her and I.
There’s something so off kilter about sitting here and knowing Ethan isn’t coming home tonight.
There’s no disgruntled man to come into my space, to slam a door, or complain about God knows what.
My body expects it still, after all these months.
I’m unnerved and unsettled and I wonder if Mom and Paul noticed this about me.
If this is why there was always a glass of wine at the end of the counter and a show to block that anxiety out of my mind.
My parents, Lauren and Rhett are wine drinkers.
I have always been fine drinking it with them, but college taught me to appreciate beer.
So tonight, like a teenager with her parent’s away for the weekend, I grab a can of beer from the garage fridge and miss my mom and Paul.
I miss their incessant checking in and micromanaging.
I would take someone’s concern a million times over the indifference Ethan showed me.
Like I willed it to be, Tanner calls and I snuggle into the couch as I answer.
“Tell me about your day,” he says before I can say hello. His words are languid and slurring like maybe he had one drink too many.
“It was good. Winnie and I had a girl’s day. Now I’m drinking a beer on the couch. What about yours?”
“Rhett and the guys dragged me out tonight. If I wasn’t drunk, I would drive down to Illinois right now and drink that beer with you.”
“Don’t drive drunk. I would never forgive you.”
“I would never,” he promises. “I’ll let you go. I just wanted to say goodnight. I don’t sleep very well if I don’t hear your voice before bed.”
“Goodnight Tanner.”
“Goodnight Hannah.”
I smile at the ended phone call and realize I too, sleep better after I’ve heard his voice.
Some hours later, my phone is ringing somewhere on the floor, and I search in the darkness, expecting it to be Tanner calling again.
But it’s Lauren.
“Hey—” I barely get the word out before I realize she’s crying. “What’s wrong?”
She chokes on a sob. “I'm pregnant.”