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“That’s oddly specific, but your presence is all we need right now.”
She snuggles into my chest, her book secure in our bond as I scoop her up.
I set her on a barstool where Mark’s laptop is open and the video from our parents is paused on the screen.
The exact moment she sees it, her smile vanishes. Scrambling to shrug the blanket off, she trips and drops her book. We’re all there to catch her but she swats us away. The book doesn’t fare as well.
It bounces off the counter and crashes to the floor, pages bent.
“I don’t want to talk to them. Christmas was going so good.”
“Hey,” Mark grabs her shoulders. “You’re not talking to them. They’re talking to you.”
“Even worse.” She shrugs away, grabbing the book from my hands as I smooth the pages.
Carl catches her arm. “It’s a video. They’re apologizing.”
The ticking of the huge clock on the living room wall counts the passing seconds that count the many ways she was hurt by them.
Did we fuck this up?
She kicks the blanket from around her feet and steps away. I wish I could undo the moment, wrap her back up in the soft pink blanket, and rediscover the sweet smile she had when snuggled against my chest.
Grabbing the blanket from the floor, I return it to her shoulders. “I should have prepared you. We talked to our parents. Did our best to explain how their expectations and judgment hurt you. And that you’ll take your own path.”
She angles her head up to listen.
Carl adds, “They were surprisingly receptive.”
Mark gives her the zinger. “And we told them that if they lose you, they lose us because we’ve chosen our side.”
Tears well in her eyes.
I continue. “They wanted to come over to apologize, but we asked them to respect your space until you’re ready. The video was your father’s solution. And I truly think you’ll like it.”
We pile onto the couch, Bianca positioned on Mark’s lap, flanked by Carl and me, and we watch the video with her.
Mom spells out the scary and humiliating years when she didn’t have enough money to feed us and had to beg friends to let us stay with them. It’s why she pushed so hard for Bianca to get a degree. Some of the keeping-up-appearances tie-ins were a little harder to grasp, but she meant well and promises to tone them down.
Frank has a harder time opening up but makes a show of writing a check for the amount he planned on spending on Bianca’s education. It’s hers to spend however she wants.
Carl keeps the tissues handy for Bianca. I snatch one as I head to the counter. I don’t want my brothers giving me shit over a few tears to mar the moment.
“There’s one more thing.” I grab the envelope our mom sent. Ditching the tissue and resuming my place on the couch, I position the envelope for everyone to read the outside:
To my beautiful (on the inside) children, please open when you are all together.
“She sent this. Who wants to do the honors?”
Carl says, “Bianca should since she sparked this transformation. Are you okay with that?”
When Bianca nods, I set the envelope in her hands. She slides a pink fingernail under the edge of the flap. I hadn’t noticed her nail polish matched her pajamas until now.
Finding four pieces of postcard-style stationery, each with one of our names, Bianca hands them out. We quickly determine that Mom has made the same handwritten promise to each of us. She’ll always be there for us, no matter the situation, no judgment, no questions asked.
I grab another tissue…so I can blow my nose. I’m not used to this level of emotion in our family. Interesting, everyone seems to do the same.
“That’s an incredible gift. I need a minute.” Bianca is running out of the room before the words are out of her mouth.
