32. 32 Parker
32
32 PARKER
WHAT IS LOVE?
There were some things one didn’t know, growing up as the only child in the house. There were some things one did not learn unless they had a sibling in their life on a regular basis. What things, you might ask?
Well, I was currently learning how impossible it was to ignore your sibling when they were intent on bothering you. Especially when that intention involved, as Anya put it, juicy deets . I didn’t know if all siblings were this obnoxious, or if I’d hit the lottery in hell, but here we were.
We were at Molly’s, a bakery/bar, for one of our semi-regular “work dates.” I’d bring my schoolwork and Anya would bring her comics work, and we’d get stuff done over pie and wine. It was one of my favorite ways to spend time with my sister. Usually.
Tonight, however…tonight was a different story.
I was in study mode: noise canceling headphones and glasses on, laptop open, a thousand books stacked beside it. My highlighters and tabs were neatly organized by color, and I had three separate notebooks open to various pages. I was ready to go.
But, in my periphery, I could see Anya leaning over the table to peer at me, her face distorted into the most macabre expression. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing and kept my eyes on the screen. Maybe if I ignored her, she’d stop. She’d go back to work on her own project. She’d leave me to study in—
The remainder of that thought vanished the moment Anya reached over and yanked my headphones off.
“Hey,” I said, trying to snatch them back. “What the heck?”
Anya tucked the headphones into her messenger bag and faced me, a beatific smile on her face. “Hello, sister dear.”
“Hi, hello.” I waved maniacally. “We’ve done this already. Can I please have my headphones back? I have so much to do.” I cast a pointed look at her unopened sketchbook and powered-down tablet. “As do you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She reached across and closed my laptop. “And we’ll get it all done. After.”
I sighed, summoning the patience of a saint. “You know, it’s moments like these that I’m glad we didn’t grow up in the same house.”
Anya gasped, clutching her chest. “I cannot believe you’d say such a thing!”
Folding my hands atop my laptop, I waited for her to get her dramatics out.
“You know, Parks, that hurts. It really does. After all we’ve been through. After everything we’ve missed, I—” She stopped abruptly and sighed, sinking back in her chair, artifice gone. It would’ve been jarring, how quickly she changed tacks, if it were the first time I’d witnessed it. Now, it was simply Anya. “Look,” she said normally, as if she hadn’t just channeled an award-winning soap opera actress. “I just wanna know how it happened.”
It .
She hadn’t actually said Gigi’s name. Not tonight, and not in any of our previous texts or phone calls since she found out. It was almost like if she didn’t acknowledge the who of the situation, she could pretend it was someone else.
It was almost like she wanted it to be someone else.
Which sat like bricks in my belly. Because, for me, it could only be Gigi. And I couldn’t understand why anyone, let alone someone who was friends with Gigi, would disagree. Anya knew how great Gigi was. She knew how funny and kind she was. How smart and stubborn. How—
Anya cleared her throat. I shook my head, clearing away the Gigi thoughts before I got in too deep. “It…just,” I started, shrugging, “happened.” I started opening my laptop.
As if that was going to be enough.
Anya slapped her hand down on the computer. “Nuh-uh. Nope.”
“Anya, come on.” I sat back and pulled a lock of hair over my shoulder. “Why does it matter? It happened. It’s going to keep happening. The how of it is moo.”
Her green eyes were like lasers on my face. There were thoughts behind them, thoughts she wasn’t voicing aloud. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear them. Looking down, I grabbed the first book I saw and cracked it open.
“I’m a little…concerned, is all.”
“Don’t be,” I said, flipping to the next page as if I’d read anything on the last.
She sighed and reached for her wine. I could see her swirling the red liquid from the corner of my eye, and I waited in silence for her to continue. After she took a sip and sat the glass back down, she cleared her throat and lobbed the next question at me. “Are you sure this isn’t some sort of…rebellion? A little dig at Mom?”
That got my attention. Closing my book, I met her eyes, angry. “What the heck, Anya?”
She winced and shifted in her seat. Maybe the most uncomfortable I’d ever seen her look. “Look. I’m not questioning your sexuality or anything like that. I’m not even sure that would ruffle Mom’s feathers. I…fuck. Okay. Fine.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, like she was preparing to take a hit. “It worries me that it’s her.”
There it is. I braced myself against the twinge in my chest. Straightening, I reached for my own glass and took a long sip, the bubbles of the rosé burning on the way down. Carefully, I sat the glass back down among the debris of our study date, then I looked at my sister. The sharp lines of her cat-eye were undercut by the concern in her eyes, the angles of her cheekbones softened by the way she chewed on her bottom lip. Then, the twinge became an actual pain. Because this was the face of someone truly worried.
Looking down, I ran my fingernail along the outline of the Supernatural sticker on my laptop. “Why?”
The question came out quiet, nearly silent, but it rang in my head like a cannonball, and it felt like a betrayal to Gigi.
I could feel Anya watching me, I could feel her weighing her answer in her own head. I held my breath as I awaited it.
“You know how the Winchesters never really had stable relationships?”
My head whipped up. This was not the time to talk about our favorite TV show. “What?”
“They never really settled down,” she went on. “Not for long, anyway. Because they knew their lives were not made to sustain anything long-term or normal.”
I frowned, my brain spinning. “Where are you going with this, you lunatic?”
“It’s gonna come around, trust me.” She shifted in her seat, pulling her leg up to rest her elbow on it. “So, the boys mostly flew solo. Because their lives were too fucked up for normal people.”
“Are you saying that Gigi is too screwed up for normal?” Anger, indignant and hot, rose in my chest. “Because that’s a really messed up thing to—”
“No,” she cut in. “Not exactly.” She exhaled and searched the vaulted ceiling for the right words. “Okay. Not fucked up. But…” Her eyes came back to mine. “She’s not gonna stay, Parks.”
My heart lurched. Blindly, I reached for my wine glass and took a sip. Then, I sat it down, fingers still on the stem, and exhaled. “What makes you say that?”
Anya dropped her foot back to the floor and leaned her elbows on the table, chin propped in her palms. I watched as she thought her answer through, could see her choosing her words carefully. It ticked me off. I was not a baby. I didn’t need to be handled with kid gloves.
“Out with it, Anya,” I said, and she winced at the harshness of my tone.
“Okay.” She sighed. “I know people like her. I am people like her. We’re…damaged. We’ve got baggage. We keep moving to avoid dealing with it.”
Of its own volition, my mind replayed the conversation Gigi and I had last weekend. How she cried when she told me about her dad, and the guilt I could see eating her alive. I looked down, fixing my eyes on the Supernatural sticker again. It was blurry.
Dammit.
I blinked rapidly, clearing the tears away, before I looked back up. “We’ve all got damage. Show me one single person in this world that doesn’t, and I’ll show you a liar.”
Anya nodded. “Fair, fair.” She pulled her wine glass to her and twisted the stem. “I…I don’t want you to get hurt, is all.”
I stared across the table, her words pinging around in my brain like a pinball machine. “Okay,” I started, “I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I’ve already got an overprotective parent who kept me from making decisions for myself for too long. I don’t need another.”
At that, Anya winced. I’d have felt bad if I weren’t so mad. We were both quiet for a long, awkward moment, until Anya finally spoke again.
“Parks,” she started, her tone careful, like she was tiptoeing through a field of landmines. “I love Gigi. Really, I do. But I also understand her. Maybe better than she understands herself. And…she hasn’t dealt with her baggage yet.” She brought her wine to her lips, but she didn’t drink. Putting it back down, she spoke again. “I’m worried about you getting involved with someone who’s still running.”
I frowned, her words lighting up neurons in my brain so quickly I couldn’t make sense of them.
Seeing the confusion on my face, Anya went on. “I was just like her last year. Fucked up and insisting I was fine, even while I bounced from place to place, living out of a duffel bag, never settling in. I was a mess, but I swore I was okay.” She shook her head, lost in thoughts of her past. “I hurt people because I was not ready to face my fucked-up-ness.” Her eyes met mine, glittering like emeralds. “I hurt you, and I hurt Vaughn. And so many other people who were trying to love me.”
I reached across the table and laid my hand over her free one. “It’s okay, though, you’re here now, and—”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Parks.” Her eyes flashed with fire. She turned her hand over and gripped mine tight. “Getting involved with Gigi…it’s a risk. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I inhaled sharply, the air stinging my lungs. Looking at my sister, the earnestness on her face, her fingers squeezing mine, my brain spun. She was right. I knew she was. The question was: did that change anything? Did it change what I felt for Gigi, or sever the invisible string that tied my heart to hers?
I didn’t have to think about the answer.
I squeezed my sister’s hand back. “I love you so, so much for looking out for me,” I started as I pulled my hand away. “But the truth is, getting involved with anyone is a risk. Anytime you open your heart to another person, you’re taking a chance.” I smiled at her, my beautiful, brave sister who, less than a year ago, was a virtual stranger. Now? Now, she was my best friend. “I took a chance on you, Anya. And you, me. Look where it got us.”
She smiled—a tiny one, but it was there. “Point taken, kid.”
I took it as a sign to go on. Cradling my wine glass between my hands. “She isn’t what I thought I wanted,” I murmured, watching the bubbles rise to the surface of the pink liquid. “But she’s everything I needed.” I lifted my gaze to meet Anya’s, a helpless smile on my face. “She’s flipped my whole world upside down, in the best way possible.”
Anya’s smile grew infinitesimally. “Been there.”
“She’s just…” I searched the space between us for the words, the best way to explain the magic of Gigi to the skeptic across from me. I didn’t need her approval. My heart had made its choice, and nothing my sister said was going to deter it.
“She’s smart and stubborn and sweet.” My heart swelled as I conjured up all the things I loved about this woman. “She’ll take care of you when you’ve had a long day, and she’ll step in to help wherever she’s needed.” I smiled softly, my mind a montage of the last couple months. “And, yeah, she’s got bad taste in TV, but that’s okay, because she’ll snuggle the heck out of you while you watch it with her.”
“You don’t have to sell me on her, Parks,” Anya cut in when I paused for breath. “I adore Gigi. You know I do. But—”
“I’m not done.”
She pressed her lips together, the words I’d interrupted flaring behind her eyes. I was on a time crunch. I could see it all over her face. Taking a deep breath, I pieced together my next words, then carefully laid them out on the table between us.
“You know more than anyone,” I started, “how hard it is to face everything you’ve spent forever running from. To ask for a second chance. But you did it, and look at you now.” I paused, looking her over, from her bright purple hair to the sharp set of her chin. “Don’t you think Gigi deserves that same chance?”
My question landed in the silence like a sonic boom. Her eyes burned with conflict. Her grip tightened on her wine glass, as if she wanted to squeeze me until I came to my senses. I held her gaze, hoping she saw the same stubborn steel in me that lived in her.
Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Point taken.” Lifting her wine glass, she shook her hair away from her face. “To second chances.”