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Anita throws her head back and laughs. “That’s Carter for you. He never liked to appear weak or not have control over a situation. Even when he was little, whenever anyone picked on him, he fought back like his life depended on it.”
I take another careful sip of the broth, already feeling it work its magic. “What was he like with Brooke?”
A part of me wonders if I’m going to regret asking this, but the other part of me is desperate to know.
Listening to Anita helps me feel connected to the man I love. I’m happy to be listening to these stories, all of them giving me a more nuanced version of Carter and the kind of child he was.
“He was protective,” Anita muses, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Brooke was the first person he opened up to. It surprised all of us, considering how Brooke was. Most siblings have a period of time where they can’t stand each other, but Carter was never like that. Even when Brooke was mean and cruel, she was never able to push him away, not completely.”
I take another sip of my soup and motion for her to continue.
“I personally thought my brother and his wife indulged Brooke a little too much. I knew Brooke was a miracle, one they didn’t see coming, but they definitely let her get away with too much. She was a good kid, but she needed more structure and discipline in her life.”
I make a low noise in the back of my throat and tear off a piece of bread.
After throwing a few pieces into the broth and stirring, I clear my throat. “Is that why you think she and Carter would’ve destroyed each other?”
Anita sits up straighter and shakes her head. “They were too alike. Carter needs someone who is more like you.”
I give her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”
Anita stirs and rises to her feet. “I should get started on dinner. Is there anything special you’d like?”
I blink at her in surprise. “Is it almost dinner time already?”
“We’ve been in here for hours.” Anita gives me an amused look. “I haven’t been able to sit down and reminisce like that in years. Thank you for listening to me.”
I push the blankets away, stand up, and grip the bowl with both hands. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’m sure you had better things to do with your time.”
Anita drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Not at all. I’m happy we got the chance to do this.”
In the kitchen, I help her dry the dishes and put them away. Even though I still feel weak, and the dizzy spells don’t abate long enough for me to be on my feet for too long, I don’t want to go back into my room. Having been cooped up there for weeks, it feels nice to stand in the kitchen with Anita and do something normal.
I’ve been craving normalcy for so long now I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.
Especially when Tristan returns and Sam comes racing down the stairs.
Tristan is his usual self-deprecating self while he helps Anita chop up vegetables. Sam, on the other hand, is pushing slices of chicken around in a pan and doing it with so much concentration and energy that I know she’s trying to think about something else.
I try to keep my mind busy while setting the table.
Then I help carry the plates and silverware to the dining table, pausing to offer Tristan a smile when he unfolds a tablecloth and smooths it out. In the kitchen, Anita is still stirring a big pot of rich-flavored soup, and Sam has moved to the oven, peering intently inside it. Tristan takes out the salad bowl, calling out something unintelligible over his shoulder.
“It’s just us tonight,” Anita announces, her gaze darting between the two of us. “Now, I expect the two of you to behave during dinner. Whatever issues you have, they can wait till after we’re done eating.”
Sam and I don’t look at each other as we nod.
Anita sits at the head of the table, with Tristan to her right. I pull up a chair on her left, and Sam goes to sit next to Tristan, her head still lowered as she unfolds a napkin and drapes it over her lap. In silence, the three of us look over at Anita, who has her head cocked to the side as if she’s listening for something.
Moments later, someone raps on the door. My pulse quickens as I push my chair back.
Paul comes in, wet hair matted to his forehead and an oversized black sweater on backward. He gives us all a distracted smile and pulls up a chair next to me. I try to swallow back the disappointment when no one brings up Carter.
But for the rest of dinner, I keep glancing over at the door as if he’s going to materialize.
And I hold onto the kernel of hope blossoming inside of me as we all lick our plates clean and help Anita tidy up. Once the dishes have been dried and the food has been put away, everyone retires to the living room. Anita sits in between Tristan and Paul, who prop their feet up on the coffee table and look at the TV above the mantle.
Sam stretches her back against the armchair. I linger in the kitchen and wonder where I should go.
