Chapter 12 #2
“I’m a little annoyed, that’s all.” Once upon a time, we’d been so glued at the hip we’d been mistaken for twins. We called ourselves twins until Ren and Rose’s relationship.
“Was it really a prank?” Logan asked, glancing my way to gauge my honesty.
I pushed myself back up straight. “Of course, it was a prank. Even if I were still into Ren, I would never in a million years do that to Rose… and it hurts that any of you would even consider that.”
Logan chewed on her bottom lip and reached over once more to squeeze my hand. “Tell her that. Be honest, and I’m sure eventually everything will work itself out.”
“Yara.” Whenever Mom said my name, it sounded fancier than it was. My name became a flowery lyric or obscure poetry title. Her accent was a beautiful mix of Southern charm and the decade she’d spent in France as a young girl.
“My wonder.” She didn’t get up from her seat but did tilt her head so we could kiss one another’s cheeks. Mom patted the empty seat next to her as she turned to give Logan her typical greeting of, “My storm.”
All of us had our own larger-than-life comparisons that Mom had given us as kids.
She was insistent that the moment she laid eyes on each of us, she saw something large and powerful.
It was a lovely sentiment that constructed the foundation for our self-esteem at a young age.
I couldn’t say it helped me much since high school, though.
These days, being called a wonder felt like a joke.
Aimee, on the other side of me, waited until I settled in my seat to straighten out my twists and offer me a side hug. “How have you been?”
Her voice was soft enough to find solace in, and her smile was warmer than the sunlight that reached through the windows in front of us.
Aimee wore her hair short, the soft curls dyed a chestnut brown that brought warmth to her dark skin.
She still shaved her eyebrows completely off —had been doing that since college— and still pulled it off in a way that made one wonder if eyebrows were even necessary.
The answer for me was yes, very necessary.
I used to do anything and everything I could to make myself look like Aimee.
I smiled and shrugged. “Busy.”
“Good busy?”
“Always,” I promised, the lie so flimsy I had to look away before she called me out.
My gaze fell to Rose on the opposite end of the table.
She wore a wavy lace-front wig with curtain bangs that framed her round face perfectly.
Her lips were glossy red, and her nose was dotted with faux freckles.
She was deep into something on her phone and had barely looked up when she heard Logan and me joining them.
Rose finally looked up when Logan sat down beside her, offering our sister an enthusiastic hug and asking about her TA workload.
“Three of the assistants I’m working with are dating each other —it’s a love triangle kind of thing— and the other one doesn’t realize it’s obvious that he’s sleeping with the professor,” Logan said, eyes alight with the chance to relax and gossip.
“You should pitch this as a reality show. Or maybe write a comedy.” Rose laid her phone face down, ready and willing to probe into college department drama.
She lived vicariously through all our college experiences, since she’d opted to complete her degree online so she could audition for shows at theatres full-time in New York City.
The server came by to offer us drinks and take our orders.
As we waited, Rose kept pressing Logan for department gossip, then eventually asked Aimee how her clinical trials were going and Mom about the community garden.
It wasn’t until the food was at the table and the drinks had been refilled twice that Rose decided to address the elephant in the room.
She didn’t look up from her omelet as she asked, “How have you been, Yara?”
“Great, thanks for asking,” I spoke as if every word was a landmine. “You?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked.
“So much has been going on.” She nodded, cutting her egg into small pieces. “So much has been changing.”
Aimee took a long sip of her drink, trying to hide her smile.
If anyone was going to find amusement from disagreements, it was her.
She still saw us all as children fighting over our favorite toys and TV time.
The quiet lull over our table made me itchy.
I clawed at my wrist as I decided to go for broke.
“I think we should talk about it. Get it over with.”
Rose looked at me, expression blank in that creepy way she always did as a child when I didn’t do what she wanted. It’d taken me years to figure her out. Even when we were close, she had moments where her walls went up, and her sirens remained on full alert.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Mom chimed in. Once we were old enough to venture out of the house on our own, she’d decided we were old enough to work through our issues with one another. She only interfered to play the occasional referee or cheerleader.
“The “it” you’re referring to is my girlfriend, right?” Rose asked.
My girlfriend. The words were laced with barbed wire and soaked in venom. I pressed my molars together, jaw tight at how possessive she sounded, how her words made me sound like I’d shot the first warning arrow.
“Ren showed me your text,” Rose continued.
Logan readjusted in her seat, gaze scanning the room as if looking for a decent reason to excuse herself. Aimee rested her hand under her chin, watching us with interest. I wouldn’t be shocked if she’d pulled out a notepad and started scribbling down our behavior for a future research project.
“Did she play the voice note too?”
“She did.” Rose nodded, expression remained unchanged. “You’re hanging out with David Evans these days?”
Logan’s attention snapped back. “David Evans…wait, was that the guy in your room that night?”
“In your room.” Aimee whistled, impressed. “Not you having late-night company.”
Mom wasn’t impressed or stunned. The wrinkles on her brow indicated disapproval. As a woman who got married before attending university and then divorced before getting the opportunity to enroll, she was a stickler for education first.
“I’m a senior,” I reminded them. “I’m old enough to have people over after bedtime.”
“David’s that football player, right?” Aimee pivoted. “The one who almost got kicked off the team?”
Logan nodded in confirmation. “A lot of kids got into some trouble for vandalism. The school board had a whole meeting about it. Mom and I went to the open forum. The whole thing was a pitchforks and let’s burn the witches vibe.”
“And yet, he avoided getting arrested multiple times during senior year,” Rose said. “Everyone loves a problematic pretty boy with a good throwing arm.”
“David had a rough patch. Not everyone had a healthy home life,” I said. “And his arm’s not that great; he’s a tight end.”
They all looked at me blankly.
“His specialty is blocking and receiving. So that makes him a pretty boy with good blocking and receiving ability.”
“Okay…” Rose shook her head, not caring.
My defense of David was automatic. I didn’t like how Rose’s nose wrinkled when she recalled who he was.
Or the slight hint of judgment in Aimee’s tone when she mentioned him almost getting kicked off the team.
They hadn’t seen this guy in years and talked about him as if they had him all figured out.
I was the one who’d spent countless hours a week going back and forth with the guy, disagreeing with him until my head hurt and my patience ran thin.
If anyone had the right to act like they knew him, it was me.
And I’d never claim to know half of who that guy was because he never actually let me see him.
“Whatever he is, he doesn’t have a good sense of humor,” Rose said. “Sending my soon-to-be fiancé a ‘I still want you’ text is the furthest thing from funny. Which makes it hard to believe that it was a joke.”
My gaze hardened. “But it was. I’d never say something like that to Ren. I’d never in a million years go behind your back.”
“Alright, sure.” She nodded, sounding nowhere near understanding. “But you can’t blame me if I’m a little worried. Because in every joke, there’s some truth.”
Aimee hummed in agreement, but when I glanced at her, she stopped and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’
I scratched the back of my neck, frustration like a rash spreading across my skin. “Maybe, but I didn’t tell the joke. Thus, making your logic flawed because no part of my truth was in those words.”
Rose blinked, unconvinced. “You know, we never talked about it. All the stuff that happened with Ren and me. It was so fast, and we never got to discuss how it made you feel.”
There was a pause when they all looked at me, genuine in their curiosity about my headspace.
“We did talk,” I reminded her of the hurried conversation we’d had back home when she was still a gorgeous, deep brown from the Italian sun, and I was coughing up the last bits of flu.
Rose had confessed her whirlwind romance in a single, run-on sentence.
Her nails had been bitten down as far as they could be on her trip back home.
I would have been furious and hurt if I hadn’t already seen that she’d mentally battled that version of me already on her twelve-hour flight.
It hadn’t seemed fair to put her through more anguish, and to be honest, I’d just wanted her out of my face so I could throw up in peace.
“But not talk talk,” Rose insisted.
“You know I support you two,” I said. “I helped throw her birthday party last year. “
“A birthday party’s different from a wedding,” Rose said. “Ren’s going to be a permanent fixture in this family. I want to make sure there’s nothing underneath the surface. Not just for you, but for everyone.”
Her gaze scanned our sisters and Mom. But honestly, what protest would they have made?
Everyone loved Ren. She was a six-one goddess who played beach volleyball and modelled for Nike.
The woman spoke three languages and wanted to become a biotech engineer after she attempted to make the US Olympic Team.
She never forgot a birthday or anniversary, and was the type to send roses just because.
Okay, yes, maybe I had some lingering jealousy.
But that wasn’t because I was in love with Ren.
I got over her as soon as I realized she wasn’t ever going to be in love with me.
I did feel some type of way that while my sisters seemed to be moving forward, full-steam ahead, I was stuck, struggling with the same hurdles I’d been trying to clear since freshman year.
I haven’t had a successful fundraiser, a promising internship, a fellowship, or a loving partner to show for the past four years.
“I’d rather have any lingering resentment bubble up now than while we’re at the altar,” Rose continued.
“There’s no resentment,” I promised, focusing hard on keeping my voice steady and sure. “I’ve moved on completely… I’m seeing someone.”
Rose blinked in surprise. “You’re seeing someone?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Logan asked, suspicious, given her earlier attempt to help me prep for this confrontation.
“It still feels new,” I said.
“How new?” Aimee asked around between bites of danish.
“Since the summer,” I said, because none of them had been home during the summer. With no one around to confirm, they’d never be able to figure out that I’d spent most of my time tagging along with Haven to the beach and watching her get hit on while I scribbled ideas in my sketchbook.
“So, what’s their name?” Mom asked.
“Their name…” I hesitated as if it were a math question.
Rose scoffed, and Logan shot me a sympathetic look.
Mom laughed, oblivious to any kind of suspicion. “Yes, I assume they have one?”
“It’s David,” I said, because it seemed like the most logical next move.
Logan had already heard his voice in my room.
And Rose heard his voice note. It was clear we’d been spending time together.
Since we went to Westbrooke together, it made sense that maybe we’d found solace in one another…
I almost laughed at the thought, but kept myself together under the curious stares.
There had been an actual kiss between us after all.
So, some chemistry (no matter how minuscule) existed underneath the depths of our shared disdain.
It may not be that deep.
“You sure?” Rose asked.
“What do you mean, am I sure?” I frowned, trying my best not to snap at her. So, Ren chose her over me. So, she’d been able to reach her dreams at breakneck speed. So, she’ll be married by next year. Was it really so difficult to believe that someone would be interested in me once again?
“David’s a great guy,” I continued, forcing myself to think of more nice things to say about him and our nonexistent relationship. “He’s matured since high school. Really dedicated to his team. And he… pushes me to try new things. I’m pretty sure I’m in love.”
The last part had been unnecessary. But I wanted to emphasize I had my own world outside of them. While their world kept spinning, mine did too. I was growing, changing, and falling in love.
“Really in love this time. Not the first time, puppy love stuff with Ren. She was sweet but… well, with David it’s different,” I said, and that seemed to drive the point home.
They exchanged looks, and the consensus seemed to be they were willing to move David to the next stage in Every women approval. They needed to vet him for themselves.
“You should bring David to the engagement dinner, then,” Rose offered with a smile.
“I think that’s a lovely idea.” Mom held up her glass of orange juice to salute Rose. “I think this is the first time all of you girls have partners simultaneously.”
“The engagement dinner…?” I asked, my skin itchy again. Aimee noticed my nails as I went to work, placing her hand on top of mine under the table. My cheeks burned, but she didn’t say anything to everyone else. She simply patted me and went back to finishing her danish.
“It’ll be nice to have everyone together,” Rose said.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll ask, but it’s the beginning of the season, so… he’s swamped.”
“He can’t take one night off to go to dinner with his girlfriend?” Rose raised a brow, a challenge.
I swallowed and forced myself to smile, trying to make it look as natural and easy as possible. “I’ll bring him. He’ll be there.”
“Perfect.” Rose beamed, and it was her turn to salute me with her glass. “To love. New and old.”
“New and old,” I said, hollow and a million miles away.
David had started this mess, but I’d dug myself deeper. I was at the core of the earth, and my only way back up may be a temperamental asshole with a penchant for making me work for it.