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Ruthie
“Does this mean I get to see Uncle Shane’s house?” Izzy asks.
Oh, to be five again. I’d love to be able to ignore the silent tension filling the apartment, my brother’s stoic form outside the glass door to the balcony, and Shane’s pale, drawn expression—like someone just told him the fluctuations in the economy had wiped out his 401-K.
Low blow. It’s just...
It’s obvious that didn’t go well.
Danny isn’t happy. I didn’t expect him to crack a bottle of champagne, not yet, but I didn’t think he’d be this upset.
Shane’s his best friend. Shouldn’t he, on some level, want us to be together?
“Not right now, sweetheart,” I say distantly, my gaze still on Danny through that door. Mira’s watching him too, and as if he can feel our collective gaze, he turns to look at us. “I’m going out there to talk to him.”
“No,” Shane and Mira say at the same time. They exchange a glance, Mira laughing a little, but her laughter dries up when she sees the expression on his face.
“Give him some time to process it,” she says, looking back at me. “Trust me, it’s hard as hell—” Her eyes widen, and she glances at Izzy, who’s heard much worse. “Oops, sorry. I was going to say it’s hard for me, too. Waiting and me are never going to be friends. But it would be better if you do. I’m going to talk to him too, obviously. He’ll get sick of all the talking I’m going to do.”
Shit. They’re right. I know they’re right. But it would feel weak as hell to leave without saying anything to him. He’s still peering through the window, so I tap two fingers to my heart—the sign Danny made up for I love you when we were kids. He’d do it in the middle of our parents’ fights to let me know he was there for me. He immediately replicates the gesture, putting tears in my eyes, and then turns back toward the view.
It’s not me he’s mad at, but somehow that doesn’t make it better. I just got back from seeing everything Shane’s already lost, and what it’s done to him.
They can’t lose each other, and they definitely can’t lose each other because of me. I’d never forgive myself.
“Okay,” I say with a shaky breath. “I guess we’ll go. Thanks, Mira.”
I don’t know what I’m thanking her for, exactly, other than being happy to hear news that obviously gave my brother no pleasure.
“Something weird is happening,” Izzy says, glancing around at all of us. “And I don’t like it.”
“Let’s go, honey,” Shane tells her, calling her the same word I teased him for, before I heard his mother calling him that. “Let’s go do something fun. What’s the most fun thing you can think of?”
“Shopping!” Izzy says as she gets off the couch and runs over to him, hugging her little arms around his leg. My chest feels too tight suddenly. “Because then you can bring the fun things home with you, and the fun doesn’t have to end.”
“Ah,” he says, mussing her hair with his big hand. “A budding capitalist. I approve.”
He says this last comment with a little smirk at me. There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes, but I know he’s acting. Moreover, I know he’s doing it for Izzy and me. He’s crushed by whatever Danny said to him, and I know my brother well enough to know he feels the same.
I’m going to make this right for them. Whatever it takes.
We drop Flower off at the apartment and go shopping. Shane insists on bringing Izzy to a toy store and buying her the biggest Polly Pocket he can find, even though we agree it’s ironic that a toy that was originally designed to fit in a pocket is now the size of a backpack. Then he helps me find more collapsible book cases and tables for my bookmobile project.
Through it all, I sense his humming unease. But I can’t ask him about it in front of Izzy, who loves both of her “uncles” and shouldn’t be in the middle.
The way I am.
Izzy has asked us dozens of questions about this bizarre situation we’re in—married and dating—but she seems happy about it. That’s a gift, but it’s one I’m afraid of keeping, because if she’s happy about it, it stands to figure she might one day be sad about it. But I’m trying not to dwell on that possibility—on the what-ifs that lead to dark places.
After the store, Shane suggests a movie, and we go. Izzy insists on sitting next to him, and he covers her ears, at her request, during all the scary parts. It’s a G-rated cartoon, but she asks him a lot. It’s his attention she likes, and I can’t blame her.
Despite what happened with Danny, I don’t regret that Shane’s with us. And I don’t want him to leave. If he leaves, it feels like the magic will go with him. This beautiful thing blooming between us will shrivel, and I’ll be left with nothing but the cold ring hanging around my neck. Maybe he feels the same way, because he stays, and stays. When it’s time for dinner, he follows us back to the apartment and orders pizza.
He volunteers to read to Izzy, and I sit at the kitchen table, tears in my eyes, as I listen to them laugh and talk in her bedroom. Even though I’m worried about what the future will hold, it’s been one of the best days of my life. I want this. I want it for me, and I want it for Izzy, and I wish I didn’t, because the wanting might turn me back into that broken woman who had coffee with her mother.
Shane comes out with a smile on his face, but it drops when he sees me sitting there crying, or just about. Stalking over to me, he gathers me in his arms and carries me to the couch, Flower following at his heels. Then he holds me in his arms, his hand soothing down my back, and it hits me hard that his heart broke today, but he’s the one comforting me.
“I should be the one making you feel better,” I say through tears. It’s almost an accusation, although I don’t mean it that way.
