Page 5 of The Has-Been

She’s the wild card.

Rory, after all, sees the world in color. Which is probably why she’s always in bright, mismatched clothes and is a talented artist. Growing up in our shadows has made Rory want to shine brighter. Which is why, if she thinks it, she says it.

Sassy sunshine, that is the best way to describe her.

Our fathers are brothers, having shared this exact condo while they attended Delleth. Our grandparents own a successful ski resort about thirty minutes from here. Thankfully, their success has given them the means to keep the condo in the family, having since renovated it before I started here as a freshman. This place is like a second home to us. It’s been a part of all our childhoods, our fathers each taking the time to meet back here once a year, reliving what they like to call the good ol’ days. I remember how I used to laugh, rolling my eyes at them, but now, with my time here dwindling, I know exactly how they feel.

Some of my best and worst days were weathered under this roof.

Just as I squeeze my arms around them a little tighter, trying to savor the moment, June screeches, “Oh, we are so back, bitches!” It’s loud enough that each of us has to pull from the embrace to plug our ears.

That’s our June. The loudmouth, both literally and figuratively. But that’s one of the many reasons why we love her.

When it’s safe for our eardrums, we look at one another and throw our heads back in laughter. I take a few fast breaths and soak in the sight before we start unloading the cars.

Since I’m the oldest, I call the upstairs bedroom home, which includes an enormous closet and bathroom.

The biggest perk? The quiet it offers.

Which is great for times like this—when June and Rory decide to break the peace by screeching at each other from the main level below me.

“Stop moving my clothes around, Rory!”

The four of us get along well. We practically consider ourselves sisters. In fact, sometimes we tell people that, rather than confuse them by attempting to explain how we are all first cousins. There is just one exception: June and Rory bicker like an old married couple. They act like they can’t stand one another, but really, I think they both just find joy in annoying the other.

It’s been that way since we were children. I complain about it a lot, but really, I know I will miss their constant arguing one day.

My smile fades as I put away the last of the items I brought home for summer break.

Once, I cherished being up here.

But things change—people change.

And this year…I wish I were downstairs with them.

Tears bead in my eyes from thinking that over. I do my best to wipe them away when I hear footsteps thudding up the wooden stairs outside my bedroom. When I look up, I find Reese leaning against the door, her lips quivering.

And damn if I don’t start crying all over again.

“God help me,” she whimpers, wiping at her face. “June and Rory are already fighting. And then that got me thinking…” a tear drops down her cheek. “Who will I run to next year when I want to complain about them?”

We both chuckle, a choked sound through our cries as we sit at my bedside.

I pull her in for a quick sideways hug.

“You’ll be fine,” I mumble, patting her shoulder, knowing my words will do little to comfort her, “You’ll always be able to call me and complain.”

“You’re going to regret saying that.” Reese laughs, her long ponytail swinging behind her as she stands. The redness in her eyes disappears as she hovers near my door. “I’m happy to have you back,” she whispers.

I know she doesn’t mean it literally. Because I was here last year, at least in a physical sense. Mentally, though, I felt worlds away.

Reese’s words of wisdom echo through me. She’s the brilliant one of us, always coming up with these poetic sayings that don’t make sense, but yet do. If you know what I mean.

‘You are allowed to be distant, not to be yourself. You’ll find your way back. It’s like winter here, cold and frozen, but eventually everything defrosts. Then, in the spring, the flowers bloom and grow regardless. The sun is coming. Trust me.’

Reese smiles, as if she, too, can hear her past words echo through my head.

“Hey,” I call as she begins to head down the stairs, likely determined to break up the fight still battling below.