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Laughing, I push my plate toward him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Is this about you helping us, or you helping yourself?” Eden asks, her voice softer than I expect.
“I think it’s about both, sis,” I respond, meeting her eyes. “I want to keep the family business in the family, but I don’t want to lie to myself or to you all anymore.”
Ensley, ever the peacemaker, breaks the silence. “We’re not asking you to be someone you’re not, Elowyn. We never wanted that. But this...” She gestures at the phone, the spreadsheet, and the financial evidence of my success. “This is really something. You’ve built something here. It’s amazing.”
Dad grunts, his gaze still lingering on my plate. “The pharmacy... it’s more than just a business. It’s a legacy. It’s your grandfather’s and your grandmother’s sweat and tears.”
“I understand, Dad,” I reply, my voice firm. “And I respect that legacy. That’s why I’m suggesting a compromise. I want to take the heart of what they’ve built and make it... well, make it more ‘me.’”
Eden chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “You’ve always had a way with words, Elowyn. Making running a pharmacy sound like a damn art form.”
We all laugh, breaking the tension that had settled over the room. Dad takes another bite of his beans, pondering my proposition. After a moment, he sighs.
“Elowyn,” he begins, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re right. You’re good at this. And if you think you can make the pharmacy work in this new way, then I trust you. But remember, it’s not just about profit. It’s about serving the community, helping people. That’s the most important part in my book.”
I nod, understanding the gravity of his words. “I know, Dad. I won’t forget.”
“And as long as you’re not the one doing the math,” Eden quips, a playful grin on her face. “I think we’ll be alright.”
This time, the laughter comes easily. It’s a relief, a release of pent-up tension and worry. We’re still a family, bound together by love and shared history, and that won’t change. Even if the pharmacy does.
“I suppose it’s about time for some changes,” Dad finally concedes, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and acceptance. “But, Elowyn, promise me one thing.”
“Anything, Dad.”
“Never, ever, try to eat all the guacamole again.” He points at my forgotten dish with a teasing grin, laughter bubbling up from all of us once more.
“Deal,” I chuckle, pushing the plate further toward him. “It’s all yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Weston
I’ve been waiting on my balcony for over an hour now, feet propped up on the railing as I watch the parking lot for any sign of Elowyn’s car. She wasn’t here when I pulled in, so I decided to wait and try to intercept her in the hallway. It felt like a smart plan at the time, but I hadn’t considered how long she might be out. For all I know, with the little I’ve seen her lately, she could be visiting relatives out of town or in the process of moving to another country.
Sitting out here hasn’t done much for my nerves. There was an initial rush of adrenaline when I pulled out of Mom’s driveway, and the journey back from her house left me feeling invigorated, even hopeful. Maybe things don’t have to be the way they’ve always been. My entire life doesn’t have to be shaped by one night years ago. For the first time, I feel like my future is my own. It would be overkill if I said that finally being honest with Mom was going to change the entire course of my life, but it still feels pretty good.
It’s a start. Any new beginning kicks off with taking baby steps.
As the certainty wears off and my nerves replace it, I know in my heart that I have to tell Elowyn. Regardless of what we are to each other now, I wouldn’t have had this kind of breakthrough if it wasn’t for her. She deserves to know that she made a difference, even if I’ve screwed things up beyond repair. Even if some of my actions made her think less of me. And there’s a small part of me that thinks that if I can change things with Mom, then maybe fixing things with Elowyn isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.
She’s worth it, and now I finally feel like I am too.
A car door slams shut, startling me out of my thoughts. I recognize the beep that the lock makes instantly. It’s Elowyn. Craning my neck to look down into the lot, I see her walking up toward the main entrance, juggling a Styrofoam to-go box and her pharmacy apron in her arms while she struggles with the keypad. In my haste to get ahead of her, I almost flip my entire plastic chair over and have to grab the sliding door to stop myself from wiping out. This conversation won’t go well if I’m this out of control, so I take a few deep breaths standing inside my apartment, before opening the door and trying to look casual in the hallway.
I have two seconds of peace before she comes out of the stairwell door, still struggling to carry all of her things and her purse. I see her before she sees me, a flicker of surprise and disappointment dancing across her face. There’s a hint of embarrassment, too. She hesitates, shuffling on her feet, before squaring her shoulders and walking toward her door.
“I suppose if I can face my family, I can face you,” she sighs, letting me take the apron and box from her hands so she can reach in her purse for her keys.
“Funny.” Standing behind her, I wait until she enters the apartment and motions for me to follow her in. “I feel the same way.”
She pauses at the counter, hand still halfway in her purse, as she figures out the meaning behind my statement. A genuine smile breaks out across her face. “Really? You spoke to your mother.”
“If you can believe it.” Nodding, I gently set her things down on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch. It feels so much more natural to sit here with her than alone in my own place. “It was definitely illuminating. She was afraid of losing me. Guess she thought a trauma bond was better than no bond at all. I wish I’d seen it sooner. Would’ve made things easier on us. Sometimes when you’re so deep in a codependent relationship, you can’t see the forest for the trees. But I set her straight and we’re moving forward in a different way. I’m sure there will be bumps in the road, but it’s a start.”
“Guilt can drive people to do crazy things.” I can’t tell if she means me or Mom as she joins me on the couch, sliding her shoulder under my open arm. It could go either way. We’ve both been carrying around our fair share of hurt all these years.
