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Camille came fully into the room to stand in front of me and put both of her hands on my arms. “It’s not a question of loving him. It’s a question of knowing what you want from love. And I don’t think you know the answer to that. I do like you, Kelly, I always have. I only wish you knew yourself as well as you pretend to think you do.”
She squeezed my arms, held me tight for a moment, and then turned to leave the room. I sank down on the bed, our overnight bags piled around my ankles, and burst into tears.
Chapter 8
THE COLD WAS a blessing. The December air masked the mess I’d made of my face. My cheeks felt blotchy, my eyes were puffy, and I hoped that Rob wouldn’t notice. Camille insisted on saying her good-byes outside, and then she waited until the last possible moment to step back into the house. Despite everything she had said, despite the beautiful gifts and the kind advice, I found her last “Merry Christmas” bittersweet. I fought hard to control my emotions, to stay in the present, to hug her tightly, and to make sure I never betrayed what had happened between us upstairs in the guest bedroom.
“That was nice,” Rob said quietly. “I can’t believe your sister’s going to have a baby. And I promise, I’ll be surprised when she tells me. I know it’s hard for you to keep a secret that huge.”
“Meghan herself said that Mom told her not to tell anyone. Something about it being too early.”
“I get it,” he said. “It’s zipped away, and I’ve already forgotten that I know. Still, exciting. We’ll be that childless aunt and uncle who spoil the kids, get them all hopped up on candy, and then send them home. I can’t wait.”
Rob started the car and backed out of the driveway. We drove through his neighborhood, where he had grown up, gone to private school, and stayed during summer breaks from university. Rob fit in here, with these houses with all the space around them. I could see him and his friends driving their parents’ expensive cars. Dating girls from the adjoining private school and smoking a bit too much weed in their basements. Never spending a summer in the city, but barefoot at cottages or sailing camps, returning in September to start the whole cycle again.
“My mother is happy,” he said. “Thanks for that.”
“It was lovely,” I said. “The watch—I was stunned.”
The guilt. The regret.
“It’s not that hard to let them in, Kelly.” Rob put his hand on my knee and squeezed. I grabbed his fingers and held tight.
“How did your parents meet?” I asked. “Your dad was telling stories about the East Coast, and I gathered that was well before he was married.”
“They met at law school. My mother went for a semester before she met my father. My grandfather was a judge, and he had only girls. She wanted to please him by at least trying it. She hated school, hated all of it. All she ever wanted was to be a mom.”
“They seem happy.”
Rob laughed. “They’re drinking too much, rambling around that huge house by themselves. But, overall, yeah. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up. I’m very lucky. The couples in about half of the houses on this block have split up, and those divorces wereacrimonious. Too much money floating around turning everyone into a devil looking for a new dress.”
“You can’tonlyblame the wives.”
“I’m kidding,” he said. “That sounded terrible, didn’t it?”
“It sounded sexist.”
“Hey!” He protested. “I’m a feminist.”
There was next to no traffic in the city, which was unheard of as Rob headed west. “You would have liked my dad’s parents,” he said. “You think my mother doesn’t like you? You should have seen what it was like for her. When they went back east my dad would become a different person, pick up a strange accent, speak French, and disappear for hours with his brothers, tying one on. He was the only one who left home. Whenever he went back, every minute he was there was some sort of a reunion tour.”
We eased onto the highway finally, and Rob continued. “My mother hated it out there. She tried too hard, dressed too well, and you know how she can be. She’s incapable of adjusting unless it’s under her terms.”
“Why did your father leave, if he was so happy in New Brunswick?”
“If I had to guess, probably because his brother died—his name was Stephen. My brother’s named after him. My uncle Stephen left home at thirteen to go work in the logging camps too. There was an accident. That’s all I know. My dad never talks about it.”
We never talked about Rob’s extended family. And then it hit me all over again, marriage was me becoming a permanent part of the clan. Or, like my sister, starting a new unit—just the three of them. I didn’t know how to feel about all of it, any of it.
Snow was falling on the gray city. Toronto was a ghost town during the holidays. It always amazed me how easy it was to drive from one end of the city to the other at any time other than rush hour—how quickly you could go from one side to the other when there was no traffic. I loved those times where the city felt emptied out, even lonely, as we bumped along the Gardiner. Toronto was beautiful even when it was murky and sloppy like it was today. The endless construction, all the towers going up everywhere, and this drive, from Rob’s neighborhood out to my parents’ was one of my favorites. Down Avenue Road all the way, across Bloor, south on Lansdowne to Queen, then through Parkdale to the highway. Each neighborhood was so different, and I loved to look at them all, imagine the stories the people who lived in them would tell, from the man asking for change at the on ramp to the elderly man with a shovel two doors down from Rob’s house who shoveled for everyone. I wanted all their stories; that’s what I wanted in my stocking—their lives.
“I never see them,” Rob continued. “Now that we’re not little anymore, we never go out there. My grandparents died when I was small, and my aunts and uncles have all married and divorced and married and divorced. I have, like, dozens of cousins.”
“You have dozens of cousins? How come I’ve only ever met Tanya?”
“She’s my mom’s niece. She’s my only cousin from that side. You know, if we got married, it could be a kind of family event. We could fill an entire hall full of New Brunswickers—all rowdy and rambunctious. Now that would make my mother lose it. She’s likely already planned a good portion of our wedding in her mind, whatever it might become—if and when you say yes, that is.” Rob glanced over at me, recognizing the expression on my face. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop talking about it, give you some space. You look overwhelmed.”
“Honestly, I’m fine. Starting to get a little hungover from the champagne and OJ and too little food, but that’ll be fixed with rum and eggnog at my mother’s.”
