by Nikki Lane
Chapter Thirteen
My eyes flickered open to the sound of rustling in the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened, and I sat up on the couch, trying to focus my groggy eyes. I had slept like shit.
Jacob closed the fridge door, the container of orange juice at his lips, wearing nothing but his boxers.
“Morning,” he said, putting the juice back in the fridge.
“Morning.” I spotted a hair tie on the side table and used it to put up my bedhead.
Jacob leaned his weight on the kitchen counter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you out of your bed.”
I stood up, feeling the ache in my lower back. How did Jacob spend every night sleeping on this couch?
“It’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep. And you seemed so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”
The truth was I hadn’t slept in a bed with anyone else…well ever. Not unless you counted that time Jacob and I camped out in the backyard.
Jacob drummed his fingers along the counter. Clearly, neither one of us was quite sure how this was supposed to go.
“What time should we leave for dinner?” I asked.
We couldn’t just stand there forever, looking at each other.
“Whenever you’re ready. Meg said dinner is at two.”
I nodded. “Well, I’ll…uh…I’ll just get ready.”
“Okay,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
I hesitated a moment before making my way to the bathroom for a shower.
I tried not to replay last night’s events in my head. Tried to remind myself midnight had struck. The moment was over.
Jacob and I barely spoke to one another as we tiptoed around the apartment, getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner. I threw a smile his way every once in a while just to ease the tension. I wasn’t sure going to Aunt Meg and Uncle Jim’s would make this day go any easier.
And I wasn’t counting on it.
Jacob was waiting for me on the couch, dressed up and ready to go. He stood up when I entered the room, carrying my shoes.
“You look beautiful,” he said with a small smile.
“Thank you.” I slipped on each shoe. “You look very handsome.” His beard was trimmed and his hair was neatly combed back, revealing more of his face.
“Thanks.” He readjusted his glasses. “Ready to go?”
I nodded and followed him out the door.
The ride to the farm was filled with the sound of my incessant chewing. I tapped my foot the entire ride, plucking a new piece of Nicorette every five minutes.
Jacob kept sneaking looks at me from the corner of his eye as he drove. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I focused my gaze out of the window.
“I don’t believe you. That’s, like, your fifth piece of gum in forty-five minutes.”
“I haven’t had a cigarette in forever.”
“Well, that’s good.”
I turned to look at him. “I really want a cigarette.”
He reached his hand out to hold mine. His skin felt rough as our fingers entwined. “I’m proud of you. I know it’s not an easy habit to break.”
Holding hands felt like such an intimate gesture. This was the part I didn’t know how to navigate. What were Jacob’s expectations after what happened last night? I doubted they were the same as mine. Was he holding my hand as a gesture for support? Or did he think that our relationship was more than it really was? I took a deep steadying breath. At some point during the day, I would need to figure all of this out. I knew tearing my fingers away would upset him, so I held his hand for the rest of the trip.
When we pulled into the driveway of the farm, I felt a small wave of relief when I needed my hand to unclick my seatbelt. But as soon as we were out of the car, he reached out for my hand again. He gave me an affectionate look, one end of his lips curled into a small smile.
I latched on to his hand, wondering what Aunt Meg was going to think when she saw us. Probably fall over from sheer happiness.
I stood shoulder to shoulder with Jacob, fidgeting with my dress. Aunt Meg opened the door with a smile. A smile that got even wider when she saw that Jacob and I were holding hands.
“You’re just in time.” She opened the door wider.
Jacob gestured for me to go in first, and I was met with a hug from Aunt Meg.
Uncle Jim was in the kitchen, spooning mashed potatoes out of the bowl.
“Slipping food, are we?” I said, sneaking up behind him.
He jolted around to give me a hug. “Shh,” he said. “Don’t tell your aunt.”
“I see you Jim,” Aunt Meg said. “Eat another spoonful of mashed potato, and you’ll be sleeping with the cows tonight.”
Uncle Jim froze with the spoon lingering on his lips.
“You look good, Uncle Jim,” I said as he reluctantly dropped the spoon.
“Feeling good,” he said. “Doctor says I’m fully recovered.”
“That’s great,” I said with a smile. I playfully poked his stomach. “I think that baked potato over there has your name all over it.”
Uncle Jim scowled as Aunt Meg shooed him away from the food.
“Where’s Kasey?” I asked.
“In her room,” Aunt Meg said. “She hasn’t come out all day.”
“Is she okay?”
The creases deepened around Aunt Meg’s mouth.
“I’ll go and talk to her,” I said.
Kasey gave me the okay to come into her room after a few light knocks on her door. She was sprawled out on the bed with her head hanging off the side. I lay down next to her and matched her position. All the blood rushed to my skull.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” Her hair fanned out on the comforter; it almost touched the floor.
“Are you planning to come down?”
“I’m not very hungry.” She gazed out at nothing. Her eyes didn’t hold their usual inquisitive twinkle.
“Maybe you should come down anyway. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She turned to look at me. “Whose fault is that?”
Ouch.
“Besides,” she continued, focusing back on nothing again. “I was supposed to spend Thanksgiving with Mom.”
“Well, things aren’t that great with Mom right now. So, why don’t we just try to make the best of it.”
She wiggled on the bed and propped up on her elbows. “I don’t want to make the best of it. I want to spend Thanksgiving with Mom.”
“You can’t, Kasey. Mom needs to figure some stuff out. I know you’re upset but—
“You could go take me to see her.”
I sat up, but with a little more effort than she required. “I don’t know where Mom is. And you’re not going back to that house. So…deal with it.”
“I know where she is.
“No,” I cried. “I will not.” I slid off the mattress and stood up.
She was angry; I got it. I was all too familiar with the type of anger she had. I had it once, too. Or maybe I still did. The kind of resentment that built up from the inside out until you weren’t sure who you were mad at anymore. So, you just got mad at everyone.
Kasey crossed her arms over the pillow she was clutching. “You hate her. That’s why. Just say it. You won’t take me to go see her because you hate her.”
“I don’t hate her. And I know this is hard for you, but there are a lot things you still don’t understand. Just remember that I’m on your side.”
Her fingers fiddled with the fabric of the pillowcase.
“Are you coming down?” I asked.
She shook her head.
I paused at the door. “I’ll save you a plate.” I waited a few seconds, hoping she would change her mind.
But she didn’t, and I got tired of waiting.
Downstairs, Jacob and Uncle Jim were at the table, and Aunt Meg was setting a bowl on the table.
“Any luck?” she said.
I shook my head.
She wiped at her bro
w. “Well, everything’s ready to go. Maybe she’ll have a change of heart if we start without her.”
Jacob helped Uncle Jim carve the turkey while Aunt Meg and I put the rest of the food on the table.
Uncle Jim said grace before we started to eat.
“Have you heard from your parents yet?” Aunt Meg asked. “I still can’t believe they decided to spend the holiday in Hawaii.”
“They called the other day,” Jacob said, handing me the gravy. “They’re having a great time.”
“It’s a shame you couldn’t make it,” Uncle Jim said. “Always wanted to go to Hawaii myself.”
Something I never knew. When I thought about it, Uncle Jim and Aunt Meg had never taken a vacation. At least, not as long as I’d been around. The farm had taken up all of their time, not to mention raising two kids as if we were their own. Maybe selling the farm wasn’t such a bad idea. As much as it would break my heart, it would leave them more time to enjoy life a little.
“Our holiday break is only a few days,” Jacob said. “It wouldn’t have made sense to fly that far.”
“So, how are classes going?” Aunt Meg asked.
“Good,” Jacob said.
“Same here,” I said.
I’d let my GPA slip a little this semester. I’d been a little distracted with Jacob at the apartment.
“Have you thought about declaring a major yet?” Aunt Meg asked.
I knew she worried that I’d never make up my mind, but she never pestered me about it. Just asked me once during every major holiday.
Jacob grabbed another piece of cornbread. “I think this week it’s an…astronomer, right Maeve?”
He smiled and bit a hunk out of the cornbread while I mocked his cockiness by making a face.
“Really?” Aunt Meg said, her voice raising a few octaves.
“Yeah,” Jacob continued. “We rented some DVDs about space from the library.”
“Don’t you have to be super smart for something like that?” Uncle Jim said.
Jacob chuckled.
“Thanks a lot, Uncle Jim,” I said. I stabbed my fork into a few pieces of turkey. “And I was only being half-serious. I just really really like space.”
“Well, you still have some time, dear.” Aunt Meg cleared her throat and shot a quick glance toward Uncle Jim, who was happily eating his turkey. “Have you found somewhere to stay yet, Jacob?”
Jacob and I both looked up from our plates. I shoved a heaping spoon of sweet potatoes into my mouth.
“Um…well, I’ve been so busy with class that I haven’t really had the time to look.” He turned to me like I had more to add to that explanation.
I didn’t.
We’d both been so busy with work and school that the topic of him finding another place to stay never came up. He’d been helping me with most of the bills and never asked any questions when I left for work at the club and didn’t come home until three in the morning.
“Well, he can stay as long as he needs to,” I said. “It’s always nice to have a live-in study partner.” I thought I caught a little blush to Jacob’s cheeks.
“Yeah,” Jacob replied. “We’ve learned a lot from each other.”
My cheeks started to burn, and I bowed down to my plate.
Uncle Jim concentrated hard on his food while Aunt Meg went for more turkey. We’d managed to make it through dinner with avoiding any awkward conversation and limited questioning from Aunt Meg. But I knew it was coming.
Jacob helped Aunt Meg and I clear the table and put the leftovers away. I caught Uncle Jim eating a few more forkfuls of his favorite pineapple cheesecake. I smiled but gave him a disapproving glare.
“Well, I have to say that it makes us feel a little better knowing that you’re looking out for one another,” Aunt Meg said, loading the dishwasher. “And I’m happy that you both decided to come for Thanksgiving.”
“I told you she would be here,” Uncle Jim said.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I knew what they were referring to, and I’d hoped they wouldn’t bring it up.
“We know,” Aunt Meg said, “that you came to visit us when we weren’t home.”
“Meg…” Uncle Jim muttered.
She waved him off. “I just want her to know.”
“Not now,” he murmured.
“It’s fine,” I said.
Aunt Meg stuffed a bunch of silverware into the basket. “You know that this will always be your home, Maeve.”
“Jacob,” Uncle Jim said. “How about helping me close the barn?”
“Yes, sir.” Jacob gave me a questioning look.
I nodded, letting him know I was okay to be left alone with Aunt Meg.
“I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“Okay,” I said.
I could feel Aunt Meg’s eyes on us the entire time. She eyed me suspiciously as Jacob left to meet Uncle Jim outside.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to find out about your mother that way.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a shrug.
I continued to wipe down the stove and avoided looking at Aunt Meg’s face. Did I want to be upset? Yes. But I didn’t think Aunt Meg or Uncle Jim would do anything to hurt me intentionally.
“I’m more concerned about Kasey. How long has she been sulking?” I asked.
“Ever since she found out your mother left the house.”
“Why she ever wanted to go back there with them I will never understand.”
“Maeve,” she said, reaching for my hand.
I met my eyes with hers. Light blue, with soft wrinkles around the creases of her lids. The closest thing I had to a real mother.
“I know this is hard for you to believe.” She took a deep breath. “But your mother is really trying hard this time. She swore to me that she has no intentions of going back. And I believe her.”
“Why?” I asked. I tossed the dirty sponge into the sink. “Why should any of us believe anything she has to say?”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s just something I feel deep in my heart. And she’s my sister. I can’t turn my back on her when she’s asking me for help. Just like I could never turn my back on you or Kasey.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the sink. What could I say that I hadn’t already?
Aunt Meg leaned her weight against the counter next to me so that we were shoulder to shoulder.
“She loves you both, Maeve. And I know that there’s nothing in the world that would mean more to her than you giving her another chance.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ve given her plenty of chances.”
“I know,” she said, grabbing a notepad and a pen. “She’s staying at this place called Safe Haven. It’s a shelter for domestic violence victims.” She wrote the address down and gave it to me. “In case you change your mind.”
“Shelter?” She’d never gone that far before.
“After she saw how upset you got when you saw she was here, she packed her bags and left. She wants to respect your space.”
I hesitated but took the paper from her and tucked it into one of the pockets of my dress. It was just easier this way. If there was anything Aunt Meg had an infinite supply of, it was hope.
“So,” she said, returning to the cleaning.
I turned around to face the sink again.
“Things are going good with Jacob, I see.”
I tried not to smile, but her infectious smirk made it impossible.
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
The staircase squeaked, and we both looked. Kasey stood at the foot of the steps with one hand on the banister.
“Is it too late for turkey?” she said.
Aunt Meg gave her a warm smile. The same one that made me instantly feel safe. “Of course not, sweetheart.”
She opened her mouth to say something more but her impending words were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. We both looked at each other, probably questioning who
would be visiting now.
“Is it?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t Mom.
“No,” she said, deep creases in her furrowed brow. “She promised she wouldn’t.”
The knocking continued but louder and harder. It was a sinister knock, the knock of someone who knew they wouldn’t be welcomed.
“Meg,” a muffled voice shouted from the other side. “Open up.” Bang, bang, bang.
“Kasey,” I said.
Her eyes widened with fear.
“Go upstairs and lock yourself in your room.”
“But—”
“Now!” I said.
She scurried up the steps, and I heard her door slap shut.
Aunt Meg crept toward the door. My stomach twisted into a knot as she peered around the curtain to see who was standing on the other side.
But we both knew.
“What do you want, Doug?” she said through the glass.
I cowered back at the sight of his face.
“I just want to talk,” he said to her.
I couldn’t tell if he could see me yet.
“There’s nothing I have to say to you,” Aunt Meg said.
But she hadn’t thought about the lock to the door. They never kept it locked when they were home. And my father knew it. He had his hand around the knob, and the door opened before I could yell a warning to Aunt Meg.
She backed away from the door as he stomped inside.
“Where is she?” he growled.
Aunt Meg stood in front of me in a protective gesture. “She’s not here, Doug.”
He rubbed the top of his balding head. It’d been a while since we’d seen each other. It didn’t look like he ever changed out of that misbuttoned shirt he always wore. His white undershirt stretched over his paunch.
“Wait a minute…” He squinted at me with red eyes. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Aunt Meg shouted. “And she belongs here, not you. So just go.”
I cowered back, wishing I could disappear into the drain of the sink. Slide down the pipes and into the ocean like the goldfish I had when I was six. It wasn’t dead, but I wanted to give it its freedom. The freedom that I’d craved. No reason to let him suffer in that house with me.
My father took a few steps closer, eyeing me up. His carpenter pants were no longer stained with paint and shellac, but what I could only imagine to be food from his last few meals.
