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She stands.
Her gestures are small. Quiet.
Her steps are nearly silent.
She picks her purse off the kitchen table and slides it onto her shoulder with tender care. Like it’s some piece of fine China and not something we bought at TJ Maxx for forty dollars.
The table—the one that gives me bruises every time I bump into it in the dark—is one of the only things of ours left.
Okay, that’s not fair. Most of the furniture is here. We’re subletting the place furnished. For college kids, the ones that go to Santa Monica College on their parent’s dime, the ones who can afford to have fun.
I shake my head. I’m not going to get jealous. Emma is one of those people. She can’t help that she and Brendon inherited a fortune. She can’t help that she isn’t wound tighter than a ball of twine.
I have time, money, and space for fun.
The only thing stopping me is me.
“I wish we had more time.” Mom’s voice is as sad as her smile. She unwraps her arms, opening herself and inviting me in.
I don’t want her invitation.
I want to tell her to go fuck herself. She can’t un-invite me from my life then offer comfort. That’s bullshit.
Them being vague about the details of Grandma’s condition—that’s bullshit.
It’s not like Grandma is some relative we never see. She’s practically my best friend. She taught me how to curl my hair, how to make an almond butter and jelly sandwich (cooking is one thing I still can’t master), how to tell which games at the boardwalk were rigged (most of them).
We used to play with dolls and Legos and even Dad’s Star War’s figurines.
Now, it’s more talk about boys and hair and school, but we’re just as close. She calls every week. At least.
I want to yell and scream.
But I won’t. I never do.
Someone has to be the one in control. The one who keeps it together.
Someone has to be the one everyone can count on.
I accept my mom’s hug. I sink into it. I try to find comfort in the embrace, but it feels like betrayal.
They should have asked me.
This is my life too.
I don’t want things to change. I don’t want them to leave. I don’t want Grandma to die.
But I can’t stop any of it.
I’m not in control here.
Not even a little.
I release my mom’s embrace and take a step backward.
Dad is waiting at the kitchen table, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the floor.
He looks up at me. His hazel eyes fill with pride. “Kay, I’m going to miss you so much. We’ll call every day. And visit as soon as we can.” He smiles. “Or we can fly you out to visit with Grandma. How would that be?”
I want to tell him to throw away his shitty consolation prize, but I don’t. The thought of visiting Grandma is too inviting. The affection in his voice is too earnest. “Okay.”
He steps forward and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you. We all are. You’re going to ace your classes.”
My mouth gets sticky. Everyone is sure I’m going to excel. Everyone expects me to get everything right, all the time. It’s a lot of pressure. Even if most of it comes from myself. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re such a bright young woman. I’m not sure what we did to get so lucky. I love you so much, baby girl.”
“I love you too.”
He steps backward. Reaches for his suitcase, the black one with the plain red tag.
He looks to Mom. “I guess we better go. Security at LAX is always a nightmare.”
Mom nods. “Are you going to be okay alone, Kay? We can drop you off at the Kanes’ house.”
I shake my head. I need to say goodbye to everything.
And I need to figure out how I’m going to survive constant proximity to Brendon. He’s off limits.
I know that.
I just don’t know how to convince my body or my heart to get on board with the get over Brendon plan.
My eyes go to the clock on the wall, the plain black one we got at Target last year. It’s the only thing in here I picked out.
Their flight takes off in an hour and a half. They’ve been waiting for me to get home. To say goodbye.
Warmth crawls into my chest. It threatens to break up the stone growing around my heart.
But that’s not happening.
If they want forgiveness, they should apologize.
“I’ll be okay. Let me know when you get in.” I hug Mom and Dad one last time. Go through one last round of goodbyes.
Then I watch them walk out the door.
And I settle into the couch.
And I soak in all the feelings whirring around my chest.
I’m alone.
I have Brendon and Emma, but as long as I keep everything to myself, I’m alone.
I hate everything about this.
