“And you’re not interested in staying in North Carolina?”
My gaze locks in on his, determining if he’s serious or not.
“What? Is that a crazy question?” he asks.
“I mean, kind of. I’m atravelnurse. I can’t just stay somewhere.”
Evan stares at me. “I smell bullshit.”
Defensiveness claws at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head, pushing his coffee away. “Jack, you took that job because you wanted to be far away from here. If you wanted to stick around somewhere, you could quit. Findsomewhere else to work. Your job has always been your excuse, and if you’re not careful, it’s all you’re going to have left.”
I want to protest. I want to tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But before I can find anything intelligible to say, Betty returns with our food. She sets it on the table in front of us and launches into a story about a time we were here with our Mom, just kids, and how we pulled some prank on her I can’t remember. She stays while we eat, refilling our drinks, and the conversation drops.
Evan doesn’t bring it up when we leave, and neither do I. But his words still rattle around in my head, seeping into me like a fever I can’t quite shake.
It’sthemiddleofDecember when I head over to my parents’ house for dinner. I’ve been over a few times since Jack left, but I’ve also been trying to prioritize other things too. I went to the bookstore in town last week and browsed the aisles, picking up anything that caught my eye. I ended up with a thriller, which isn’t anything I would normally purchase, but stayed up all night reading it and told Jack about it when he called the next night. I was knitting, something I’d picked up years ago and hadn’t done in ages, and we talked on speaker for hours while he attempted to make himself dinner at his rental cabin. He ended up burning pasta, which I didn’t think was possible, and kept talking to me while he drove into town to pick up a burger.
I miss him, and I was hoping the ache of it would fade with time, but it’s just grown deeper roots.
The front door to my parents’ house creaks open when I turn the knob, letting myself in. It’s Grandma’s weekly bingo night, so it’s just us in the house. I love my grandmother with my wholeheart, but it’s also nice to have these times just the three of us again.
“Hey,” I call out, heading down the hall toward the kitchen. The house smells of lavender, the scent now almost as familiar to me as the apple candles that always used to burn here growing up. Things have changed, but I’m finally adjusting to the new normal.
Stevie Nicks is playing on the old stereo in the kitchen, the one that has been on the counter for as long as I can remember, right beside the toaster oven, still miraculously working despite its age. I smile at the familiar tune, humming it beneath my breath.
I find Mom and Dad in the kitchen, cooking together. Dad is flipping pancakes on the stove, and Mom is using tongs to remove bacon from the electric skillet. I know there will be fresh maple syrup from the farm we trade with down the street and stewed apples saved from the harvest this year. Breakfast is a Lynch family signature dinner.
Mom turns, seeing me, and a smile lights her face. I think I can see faint smudges beneath her eyes, and they look a little red, but I decide not to comment on it. I’m trying to navigate our boundaries better and stop trying to fix every problem that isn’t mine to solve. If Mom wants to tell me what’s upsetting her, she will.
Later, I’ll be glad I didn’t ask, that I let the three of us enjoy the last bit of normalcy before things change forever.
We eat at the same seats we always have, my chair with one leg that’s a little shorter than the rest, making it wobble every time I move. I could move, sit in the seat I’ve taken up since Grandmamoved in, but I like the familiarity of this one, how I instinctively lean a little to the left to keep it from moving around.
Dad talks about how he can’t wait for the lake to freeze so he can go ice fishing, and Mom tells me she and Aunt Ava made spa appointments next month, and that she can’t wait for an entire day of relaxation.
“I can come over and be with Grandma if you need me to. I know a full day will be a lot to manage.” Grandma can be home alone, obviously, but she gets lonely, and when she’s by herself for too long, she tends to get more confused. When Dad is working long days on the farm and Mom is out, it can be a lot on her.
Mom and Dad’s eyes slant toward each other, a silent conversation passing between them, and for a moment I think it’s because of my offer, that I’ve stepped over the line of this tenuous balance we’re trying to strike. But when they look back at me, I know it’s something bigger. I feel it in the swoop of my gut, the way my hands start sweating and my heart pounds in my throat.
“Stevie, we need to tell you something,” Dad says.
“What?” My pulse pounds quicker, a beat of an ever-loudening drum in my ears, as I look between them, trying to guess what they’re going to say before they say it.
I wouldn’t have, though. I would have never guessed.
“Honey, we’ve sold the farm.”
My tears have dried, but my heart still feels scraped raw when I get home after dinner. There’s an ache in my chest and grit in my eyes. I close the door behind me and lean against it in the dark.The silence is heavy and vast, only the sound of my refrigerator whirring in the background and my breathing breaking it up.
I don’t think before I call him, and he doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“Hey,” Jack says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. It makes the ache deepen, the longing to have him here, just so I won’t be alone in my sadness, overwhelming me.
“My parents are selling the farm.” It sounds hollow, even to my own ears.
“What?”
