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“I know, why do you think I’m here?” Chase stalked in from the foyer, a wide grin on his face and she did her best not to beam back at him. At least, not in front of her brother. It would seem dirty somehow, tainted, to smile at him in front of anyone else. For anyone else to see.
Of course, the struggle had become that much worse since Chase’s mother had gotten married. It seemed like he’d been at their house for dinner more nights than even Luke was, and though Chase never spoke about why that might be, Julie had her suspicions.
She hated those suspicions, but she had them all the same.
“What’re you doing, Jules?” Chase asked.
“I need to do a retake on my geometry test.”
Amy made a little throat clearing sound from the next room, but Julie ignored her.
“Need some help?” Chase asked.
“Maybe later, yeah.” Heat rose in her cheeks and she hated herself for it.
“Great. I’ll be here,” he said.
You always are…and it’s killing me. She wanted to say. Wanted, but couldn’t.
Present Day
It had been thirty minutes since the glow of Amy’s presence had descended upon them and already Julie felt sunburned. They were circled around what little of the kitchen table had been cleared off--which was, essentially, a single corner of the twelve-seater her gran used to keep in the place.
As they sat, polishing the silver their mother had found stuffed inside a 1920's picnic basket, Julie could only think of how much better everything might have been if Luke had been with them.
At least then she would have had an ally--someone who'd roll his eyes when Mom started singing Amy's numerous praises. Someone to help fend off all the endless questions about what exactly she planned to do with her life.
But no, she was here, defenseless and listening as her sister prattled on about the new finishing touches she and her husband had added to their living room.
"Wainscoting is always so elegant. It reminds me of the way Gran used to keep the music room. You know, before this." Amy waved a hand absently to the teetering stack of newspapers beside her.
"I'm sure that looks lovely." Their mother nodded her approval, then reached for another polishing cloth.
"It does. We had a dinner party to show it off. All the girls loved it." Amy smiled that same picture-perfect grin she always sported when talking about her house. Like she was in some kind of commercial for good housekeeping.
"I'm so glad." Mom held a spoon to the light, blew on it, and then set it on the table in front of her. "That looks better." She nodded, then, as if waking from a dream, she glanced from Julie to Amy and said, "So, I hope your next project is a nursery."
Amy blinked, her Stepford smile momentarily slipping from her face. When she realized her error, she plastered it right back on and said, "Jeff and I haven't decided."
"I hope you do soon. I'm getting a little old to be a Grandmom."
"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works, Mom." Julie said, and then sat her newly-polished fork in front of her.
For a second, she thought she caught Amy looking at her with something akin to gratitude, but she was distracted when her mother spoke again. "Well, you're no spring chicken, either, Miss."
"I'm not even thirty yet."
"By the time I was your age, I'd already had all my children." She raised her greying eyebrows, but Julie ignored her.
"Times are different now."
"Yes, women are more focused on their careers," Amy chimed in. "Mom tells me things are going really well in New York, Jules."
Julie did her best to hold back a cringe, then nodded. "They sure are. Great."
"Are you still with that guy with the motorcycle?" Amy pried. "Juan Pablo? I always liked him."
"Yeah, that was his name, but no. We’re not together.“ Though 'liked' might have been the overstatement of the century. As Julie recalled, Amy had a not-so-small meltdown when Don Pablo's motorcycle had dinged her brand new MINI Cooper two Thanksgivings ago.
