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“You don’t think he’s going senile, do you?”
Celine shakes her head. “No, I just think he’s getting more and more paranoid the older he gets. I think maybe taking care of Mom as long as he has is taking a toll.”
“I don’t think that’s it. He’s been scared for longer than Mom’s been sick. I remember looking at him, right before we got the diagnosis. And he just looked… I don’t even know. He looked like something was eating him from the inside out.” I set my jaw stubbornly. “But if he won’t ask for help, that’s on him.”
My sister scoffs. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black if I’ve ever heard it.”
“I’m not like that at all! He’s got demons in his head? Well, join the freaking club. At least I’m doing something about it. Dad’s just gonna have to accept that he can’t control us forever.”
“I don’t think he’s trying to control us. I think he just wants to protect us.”
“Do you ever get tired?” I suddenly blurt.
“Of what?”
“Of defending everyone all the time.”
Celine recoils and her face falls. She looks at me for a long moment, breathing heavily. Then she sighs and just like that, the tension goes whooshing out of her. “You know what? Sometimes, I do.”
She does suddenly look exhausted. There are lines in her face that didn’t used to be there, and when the sun catches her head from behind, I see grays in her hair I’ve never noticed before.
I reach out and cup her hand between mine as I give her the warmest smile I can muster. “I’ve got an idea,” I suggest. “For the next hour, how about we forget the fact that our mother’s sick, and our father’s losing his marbles—” She tries to interrupt me, but I hold up my hand and barrel ahead. “And let’s just have a nice brunch and talk about stupid things that don’t matter at all and have some quality, one-on-one sister time.”
Celine smiles, trulysmiles,for the first time since I sat down. “Okay. I can agree to that.”
“Great! Now, tell me about the guy who gave you the pearls.”
She laughs and shakes her head at me. I don’t miss the subtle blush creeping up her cheeks. “You’re relentless.”
“You made me this way. You never tell me anything about your personal life.”
“Because up until recently, there hasn’t been much to tell. I mean, not that there’s much to tell now,” she overcorrects.
But that blush on her cheeks is here to stay. “Nothing much to tell?” I echo. “Cee, he gave you pearl earrings, and they look pretty damn real from where I’m sitting. I think there’s a whole lot of something to tell. I’m all ears.”
Her eyes fall into her lap and she unconsciously reaches for the pearls at her ears. A soft, shy smile plays over her lips.
“Yeah… he’s a good guy,” she murmurs. “He makes me feel… Well, anyway. It’s really new.”
I want to be happy for her, I really do. And I am. I just wish that she trusted me enough to believe that I’d be happy for her. That I’d root for her the way I’ve always tried to.
I want her to believe I love her.
The waitress brings over our food. I take a moment to rearrange my face and thank her.
“So,” Celine says, grabbing her fork and knife and clearing her throat, “what about you? Any romantic prospects on the horizon?”
I’m glad I gathered my composure right before she asked that question, because if I hadn’t, she would’ve seen the guilt written all over me. My mind goes straight back to the perfumed leather seats of his car. His rich, smoky, whiskey scent.
Sometimes at night, when I concentrate hard, I can still feel heat in all the places he touched me.
“No,” I tell her soberly. “None at all.”
“Hm.” She glances at me over her avocado toast. “By the way, before I forget, would you mind taking the chemo shift with Mom tomorrow evening?”
“Of course not. I’m on it.”
“Thanks. I made plans for dinner and I’m cutting it close as it is. Don’t want to be late.”
