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“Sit down.”
“Grandpa, I—” Sarah starts.
Grandpa raises his voice, motioning to the nearby couch. “Sit, girly.”
I half smile at that. Grandpa has always called his daughters and granddaughters his girlies.
Sarah walks over to the couch, and I follow behind her. I know I don’t need to stay, but since Grandpa didn’t tell me to leave, I have a feeling he wants me here.
Once we’re sitting, Grandpa comes to stand—tower, really—in front of us.
“You gonna tell me why you were trying to sneak my good vodka and get your tiny ass drunk here in front of all your family?”
Sarah glances down.
“Uh-uh. Look at me, girly.”
Sarah’s eyes snap up to Grandpa as Gram sits down next to her.
“I—I—don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Peter Abbott,” Gram warns.
Grandpa sighs and sits down on the coffee table in front of Sarah. “We are your family. We love you. But I don’t like seeing you do this. Sneaking off and trying to get drunk, being outright mean to the boy you claim to love? No. That’s not how we do things in this family. Talk.”
“It hurts,” she whispers. “Today hurts. I want to be left alone, but I don’t want to be alone at all.”
“The McKinley way,” Gram says with a chuckle, glancing at Sarah, then me. “You might not genetically be Charlie’s daughter, but my lord, are you his daughter!”
“I wanted to numb the pain.”
Grandpa slides his hand over Sarah’s. “The only way to get rid of the pain is to heal from it. And you don’t heal it by ignoring it or trying to drink it away. You deal with it by talking about it. Letting it out. It doesn’t have to be pretty. Just honest.”
Sarah wipes at her tear-stained cheeks and my heart aches. I scooch closer and wrap my arm around her. I hate when Sarah hurts.
“I hate that it still—that I still feel it. I don’t miss her. But I feel like I’ll never get rid of the question in the back of my mind.Why wasn’t I enough?” She sniffs on her tears.
Gram slowly rubs her back. “Honey, it was never you that wasn’t enough. It was always her. It’s normal to think you could’ve somehow controlled it, but you couldn’t have. She was—and likely still is—a very broken person. She simply couldn’t have been what you needed, given what you needed, even if she’d wanted to. And it’s a shame, because she has missed out on knowing the beautiful, brilliant, light of a person you are.” Gram leans in closer to her and whispers, “Don’t let her dim that light.”
Sarah nods through her tears. Grandpa leans forward and kisses her forehead. “My girly, she might not have chosen you—she didn’t know how—but that means she wasn’t your true family. Family isn’t about blood. It’s about people who choose each other day in and day out and love each other through all of their shit.Thatis family. We’re yours, and we always will be. You’re allowed to hurt. You aren’t allowed to drown that hurt in alcohol and bad decisions, understand me?”
Sarah nods and launches herself into Grandpa’s arms. Grandpa squeezes her tightly. “Now, get out of here. Sans alcohol.” Grandpa taps his nose and Sarah nods.
We head toward the back door, but I pull Sarah into my arms.
“What’s this for?” she asks, squeezing me back.
“I don’t know. Because I’m glad you’re my sister.”
“Hey, Sarah, will you braid my hair?” our younger cousin, Cassie, asks. “You’re the best at it.” She smiles up at me. “No ’fense, Rae.”
Sarah holds in a chuckle. It’s true. Sarah is the best at it. And whenever I want to make sure I look extra cute orsexy, I beg her to do my hair, too.
“I would love to braid your hair. What kind of braid do you want?”
Cassie’s eyes widen. Sarah pulls her phone out and starts showing her different styles of braids as they walk over to a nearby picnic table.
