Chapter 32
My father’s new house is not as big as his old house. However, constructed earlier in the last century it has a different charm with the built in cabinets and window seats in almost every room. There are only three bedrooms. Jamie and I share one. Not a big deal since I probably won’t be here much. The other one is empty and I’m assuming will be a nursery, which is still very surreal.
We opened presents about an hour ago. Christmas music from a local radio station fills the background. Jamie and my father are currently in the living room working on some ridiculous Lego Café thing. My father always did like toys that allowed him to participate. I’m helping Sara in the tiny kitchen. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs in the air. I’m cutting celery and onions. She’s cooking French Toast for breakfast. Jamie wouldn’t let us eat before opening gifts. Or shower. We’re all still in pajamas.
I’ve kept my attitude in check. Both my father and Sara still irritate me, but I’m going to make this work for Jamie. And for my mom.
“The turkey will be done by three. You can stay for dinner right?” Sara asks.
I keep chopping. “Sure. We’ll just have to leave right after dinner. I…I don’t like my mother home by herself on holidays.” I’m not going to tip toe around my mother as if speaking about my father’s wife would be hurtful to his fiancée.
“Of course, your mother needs you right now.” Sara’s lips press together.
If we’re ever going to get along, I don’t want her to tip toe around me either. “Just say what you need to, Sara.”
She flips the bread on the griddle then rests her robed hip on the edge of the stove and faces me. “I’m very much in love with your father. My life has never felt so complete. Yet I’m aware your mother is hurting. I’m aware my joy is her pain. And…and that just makes me feel awful, which may sound patronizing in my position, but it’s the truth.”
I set the knife down slowly and rest my side on the counter so we face each other. I believe Sara doesn’t like hurting my mother. I also believe people make choices. Usually with only themselves in mind. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but do you believe love conquers all? Overrides everything else?”
Offence flashes in her eyes. Maybe there’s only one way to take my question in her situation. Her fingers trace a stove knob and the diamond on her engagement ring catches the light. “Every situation is different, Riley. Love doesn’t always make sense. To the person in it or to the people around them. The falling can be an emotional, chaotic whirlwind. The landing jarring and eye opening. But if two people are really in love, there’s nothing in this world that can overcome it. Even if they can’t be together, love doesn’t cease.”
Suddenly very angry—I’m interpreting her stupid love words to mean her and my father were in love before he left us—I force myself to murmur, “Um, okay.” Though I tried to keep it out, sarcasm laced my tone. Frustrated, I pick up the knife and start chopping again.
Sara doesn’t move. “Your father never asked me out until after he left your mother.”
He’d obviously been planning on hooking up with Sara, but I just nod and chop. Sara goes back to her griddle.
There’s no way around it. I’m always going to resent my father for leaving my mother. Perhaps if he had gone to marriage counseling or tried to rekindle their love then left, I wouldn’t be so resentful. Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter because I’ll never know.
I scrape up onions and celery with the knife then violently toss them in a bowl for the dressing. Sara raises her eyebrow at the smack of the knife against the bowl but doesn’t say anything.
The stupidest thing about the whole scenario is I’m the one sacrificing for my family while my father plays house with Sara. They’re all happy and in love while my heart is breaking.
My father comes in from the living room. He wraps his arms around Sara from behind and kisses the top of her head.
The embrace brings an urge to vomit.
“Breakfast almost ready?” he asks.
She puts down the spatula and reaches up, wrapping her hands around his neck.
I set the knife down with a clank. “Think I’ll go take a shower.”
Neither of them responds. My father just nuzzles Sara’s neck.
Barf. Barf. Barf.
Rushing up the stairs, I sadly realize my mother and father never acted like that.
***
Two days after Christmas, Chloe shows up to check out my Christmas haul, as she has called it for the past four years. I usually get a ton of clothes for Christmas since my mother works at a department store. Though Chloe is far more curvy than me, she can fit into about half of my outfits. However, most of them are not her style. But she still likes to look.
She pops her head out of my small walk in closet. “There’s hardly anything new in here.”
I pull a poster from a box. My walls have been empty since May when I originally packed for college. “I told my mom not to worry about me and spend her money on Jamie.”
Chloe curls her bright red lips. “Why do you have to be such a lame ass martyr?”
I roll my eyes and push a two-step ladder against the wall. “There’s stuff in there with tags on it from last Christmas.”
“So?” she says, turning back into the overstuffed closet. “A girl can never have too many options, at least when it comes to clothes.”
I unroll a Led Zeppelin poster while the sound of hangers being pushed echoes from the closet. Zeppelin’s drummer John Bonham has been my number one idol since my father introduced me to the band in seventh grade. I’m tacking the psychedelic print back on my wall when Chloe comes out of the closet holding a shimmery, black dress that has the tag on it. I think the designer label priced under ten dollars wooed my mother into that purchase. Not the idea her daughter would actually wear it.
She presses the black silk against her body. “Lame?”
“No. You’d look great in it.” I turn back to the poster and push a tack in. “I’d just never expect you to pick it.”
“I’m thinking New Year’s Eve.”
I pause pushing the tack in. She broke it off with way too older man over three weeks ago. “Where are you going? And who are you planning on getting all worked up with that dress?”
“Marcus.”
I glance over my shoulder. “How?”
She clutches the dress tightly to her chest. “He called me last night.”
“Get out!” Swinging around, I about fall off the ladder.
She shakes her head. “It’s official. We’re going on a date.”
“Now that is the cat’s ass.” I’m off the ladder—safely—in two seconds then hugging her. We pull apart and bounce across from each other in circles like idiots. “You’re going out with Marcus! On New Year’s Eve!”
“I know! I know! I know!”
“This is fan-fucking-tastic.” I suddenly stop. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
She draws in a deep breath while her eyes find the floor. “I don’t know. I just…you and Romeo…and well I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”
“Oh Chloe, I already feel like shit twenty four seven, but why would you going on a date with Marcus upset me?”
Lipstick smears her front teeth as she gnaws her lip.
Suddenly, it makes sense. “You’re going to see Luminescent Juliet.”
Her eyes grow sad as she nods.
She’s right. The news has me feeling like shit. Drumming and Romeo are two of the things I like best in this world. “Well, that should be fun,” I force myself to say nonchalantly while reaching for another poster. “Where are they playing?”
“The Razor.”
“Huh? The club’s doing an eighteen and older for New Years?”
Biting her lip again, she shakes her head.
Sighing, I unroll a Blink 182 poster. Their drummer, Travis Barker, is another of my idols. “Justin’s getting you in.”
She nods slowly. “I’m sorry, Riley. If it had been anyone but Marcus, I would have said no.”
I push the ladder over. “It’s alright. I’m happy for you. And if you and Marcus work out, it won’t be weird with him anymore.” I push a tack in. “There’s that right?”
I haven’t talked to Marcus since I asked him to pick up his kit for me. Realizing me and Romeo were done, he started in on his stupid crush shit again. Feeling like a skipping record, I once again pushed him to examine his feelings for Chloe. I never thought he’d take me serious.
She comes over and looks up at me. “Why don’t you come with us?”
I imagine hanging out with the band and almost shudder at the thought of being around Romeo for an entire evening. “I don’t think so.”
She leans her face against the wall. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re crazy about him. He’s crazy about you. Why do you both have to be miserable?”
“I already explained why,” I say lowly. “Besides how do you know he’s miserable?”
“Marcus said it’s pretty obvious.”
My heart lurches. If it’s obvious to clueless Marcus, then it’s bad. My chest tightens. Hopefully not as bad as what I witnessed the day of exams.
“I get why you don’t think you can date him, but then I don’t.”
“Just drop it, Chloe,” I say in a warning tone. I’m reminded of Romeo all the time lately, while I’m supposed to be getting over him.
She lets out a huff. “Okay, I just wish you were as happy as me right now, but then who knows how things will turn out. Marcus and I plan on taking this slow, you know?”
“Ha,” I say, jumping off the ladder. “Marcus has let his guard down. One date with his eyes wide open and he’s going to be in so deep he won’t know what hit him.”
Her heavily lashed eyes grow round. “You think?”
“What man can resist Chloe the Testosterone Conqueror? Especially in that dress,” I say, gesturing to the black silk she’s still holding.
Chloe looks down at the dress then grins at me. “You’re right.”
I grin back but inside I’m breaking.