by Mia Wolf
“That’s not how I saw it. I thought you would hate me.”
“I do hate you for leaving,” she mumbles into my t-shirt now stained with her tears.
We sit there as darkness falls. It feels healing to be together in this. We don’t talk, we just sit there, holding each other, slowly coming to terms with what happened.
After what feels like a lifetime, Rose gets up and continues to clean up the room. I help her until the room is returned to a decent condition.
“Don’t barge in through the window like a burglar again,” Rose commands when we’re both wiping the dust from our clothes. “I’ll give you a key.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask. It’s hard to believe she actually said that.
“We really are siblings,” she muses. “Now that your old room is back to a decent condition, you can start using it again. I’m not around here that much, I spend most of my days in New York for work and I end up crashing at Andrew’s place so the house is mostly empty. You can stay here if you’d like.”
She’s back to being her rational, organized self again but I’m glad to have my sister back. My sister, who would keep my secrets from mom and dad, who would defend me to the end of the world if anyone ever made fun of me or said bad things about me.
“I would love to stay here.”
Chapter 6 – Ashley
I reach home nearly crumbling from exhaustion, but I’ve yet to cook dinner before I can call it a day. I’ve learned that on days like these, it does more harm than good to eat random food from restaurants. So I start cooking, still clad in my designer midi because I’m too tired to take it off.
I sauté some vegetables and add some leftover mashed potatoes from the morning to my plate and call it a healthy meal. I leave the lights switched off and sit at the counter. The distant light of the doorway is the only thing illuminating my food and it does a lousy job of it, but my body doesn’t want to move. If I have to do one more thing tonight, I’ll probably collapse. Is it a sign that my job is getting too demanding for me or am I just getting too old? Either way, this doesn’t seem like a thing I should drag on because the last time I did that I nearly ended up killing myself.
That was the first time I met him, in the hospital.
I was lying in the hospital bed, all by myself because I had begged the doctor not to call my mother. Warren sat by the bed right next to me. He was visiting someone he knew, who was asleep at the time.
The doctor came in and started explaining to me that I needed to be referred to a psychologist, because I wasn’t mentally stable. Being the kind of person I was back then, I didn’t take that well. I yelled at the doctor for casting judgment without complete information even though she had spared me from the embarrassment of having to explain the incident to my mother.
I scoff sitting at the counter in the present. My temper at the time was awful, I pity those who had to put up with me. Most of all my poor mother, she did everything right and yet her one and only child was a rotten monster who behaved with no consideration for the people around her.
When the doctor left the room that day, Warren had been observing the whole scene with his arms crossed. He kept staring at me with raised eyebrows as if accusing me of a crime. And for once, you would think I’d keep my mouth shut. But I didn’t.
“What are you looking at?” I asked him with gritted teeth, tears still painting my face. “Got something to say?”
He didn’t answer and I yelled at him some more, throwing curse words at him and telling him to mind his own business. I told him that he had no idea what I was going through and that he wouldn’t understand anyway because of his probably privileged upbringing. Looking back, I’m glad that I didn’t shut up. That day is what brought me here after all.
We kept staring at each other for a while. The guy wouldn’t utter a word, but he also didn’t stop staring at me and after a while, my anger started melting. His own expression softened, too, but we didn’t stop looking into each other’s eyes. That first time, it wasn’t sexual at all, it wasn’t physical. I don’t know what we were searching for, but at least one of us found what it was. No one else has ever come close to replacing what he still means to me, even though it’s been years since I last saw his face. If it were possible to be any more hung up on him, I probably would be.
Not only did he shut me up that day, he literally took my breath away. While his friend slept, he walked over to me and picked up my bruised wrists that had surgical tape on the cuts I had gifted to myself as a birthday present. I snatched my hand away from his grip as if the demon had possessed me again.
“You can judge all you want,” I spat, rubbing the spot where he had touched my skin. I tried to hide the fact that my face was flushed from the contact.
“I’m not judging at all,” he said but we both knew that I wouldn’t believe him. I turned my head in disdain and stared out of the window as if I wanted him out of my sight.
I was pretty stupid in the romance department back then, because hinting that you want the guy you like to get out of your sight is the least effective strategy to get what you really want. Thankfully, Warren wasn’t as dense at the time.
He took hold of my wrist again. “Who on earth would destroy something so precious?” he whispered to me.
My heart lurched, and I couldn’t help but hold his gaze. He had pinned me in place with his eyes and wouldn’t let me go while his touch sent electric shocks down my spine. I was too smitten to ask myself if he felt the same. He was the first for me and probably the last. Even after all those years, I haven’t gotten over that godforsaken man.
I eat my dinner and fiddle with my bracelet to look at the scars on my wrists. I haven’t harmed myself after that day ever again. After that day, I fell irrevocably in love with Ashley Wang. I wanted to believe in myself, I wanted amazing things for myself, and I knew I could give myself all that and more if only someone believed in me. Warren did that, he changed everything.
It was ten years ago that we got into a relationship, and when it started, it did for all the right reasons. We loved each other, cared for each other, wanted each other to succeed, wanted to make something of us. It went well for a while until it didn’t and the fights started becoming ugly. We stopped being on each other’s side. Someone had to hold onto the relationship and keep it from falling apart, but neither of us did. We were too young and too ambitious to cling to a meaningful relationship. I still punch myself in the gut for making that choice. Our relationship lasted three years. I’ve been yearning for that same man I once loved ever since. Talking about being hung up.
And here I am now, the queen of the fashion world, top of the ladder. It would be unfair to say that Warren had nothing to do with it. In fact, he helped a lot. But it’s not his help that I miss, it’s his company. The ease with which he conducted life, the lightness of being, the effortlessness of his existence. Clearly, I’m not built for that. Maybe that’s why I crave it as badly as I do.
Anyway, I’m better off putting any thoughts of Warren out of my mind. He’s keeping me single when he’s out of my life and if I don’t get him out of my head, I’ll die alone. It’s not like we’re meant to be. If we were, we would’ve found a way to stay together seven years ago.
Chapter 7 – Warren
I’m making my way through the village for a brief morning walk when I find Joshua coming in my direction. I wave at him.
“Is there a problem?” he asks like a typical clan leader—commanding, concerned.
“No problem,” I tell him. “Just saying hi.”
“Well, good. How’ve you been settling in?” he asks.
“It’s good to be back here,” I say, then pause and ask him the question that’s been on my mind. “Why did you let me stay at your place? You knew Rose didn’t want me around her.” I feel a little lost because I realize that someone else knows my sister better than I do. It shows me just how much I gave up when I walked away.
No, ran away. Which is a far le
ss dignifying action, befitting of a coward. Perhaps, somewhere down the line, I accepted that that’s all I’ll be for the rest of my life. A coward who ran away.
Joshua cocks his head at me and I see the same childlike innocence that I see in Rose, something resembling purity that has not been tainted by the world. Ashley’s face also flashes before my eyes and I try to shake it by shaking my head. I’ve been dreaming of Ashley nearly every night since we went our separate ways. I tell myself that it’s not that I particularly miss her. I just miss who I was back then. Things were easier, reality had not been a fractured shadow of itself. I wasn’t a fractured shadow of myself. Unlike now.
“Rose doesn’t really want you gone either,” Joshua says craning his neck to see past me as if waiting for someone to arrive.
“Who are you looking for?” I ask.
“Is Rose home? If she sees me with you, she’s going to kill me,” he says and genuinely seems flustered.
“Then why are you talking to me?”
He narrows his eyes at me as if I’ve said something wrong. “Has anyone ever pointed out how insufferable you are?”
I nod my head in agreement. “I get that from time to time.”
“No wonder.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I insist. “Besides, I don’t think she’ll kill you. In fact, she let me stay at home.”
“Your home?” I can tell Joshua is shocked. I can’t say I wasn’t when Rose extended the offer.
“I’d rather not take my chances either way,” he says then pauses while drilling a hole through me with his piercing gaze. “I let you stay at my place for the exact reason she let you in. She might be mad at you, furious even which is well deserved I think. But she’s mad at you because you left in the first place. I know she always wanted you to be around and I think she’s gone through enough hardships in life to realize all she has is the present. She wouldn’t let you go if you were this close by. She has lost enough for a lifetime.”
I’m surprised at the sincerity of his reply, which only makes me feel worse about myself. What have I really done that I get to stick around Rose? But I’ve learned a few lessons in my life, too. Learned enough to know that I’m willing to give everything I have to make this work before I let time pass me by. I’ve lost so much of it already.
“I’m really grateful that you’ve looked out for her all this time.” The words come out more positively than I had intended.
“You might not believe it because she’s your little sister but she has become very capable of taking care of herself. If anything, she helped me in not straying into the depths of my despair. She’s quite headstrong and has an iron will.”
I don’t argue with Joshua, but I don’t really understand what he means either. Maybe he’s right; Rose is my little sister and it’s difficult for me to see her as a grown-up adult.
“Thanks for sticking around my sister,” I say.
“I’m glad she lets me hang around her,” he scoffs and passes me by, leaving me alone in the middle of the path.
I go back home and hope that Rose is up by now. We’ve been living together for a few days now and things are not very peachy. We no longer do the same things that we used to do. Like Rose no longer makes apple cupcakes. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I miss them.
When I enter the house, Rose is dressed in professional clothes from top to bottom. The first thing that comes to my mind is that she belongs to the same world as Ashley now, but I’m careful not to bring that up. So I say the second thing that comes to my mind.
“You look neat.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she replies in between applying her lipstick.
“You’re going somewhere,” I say, noticing the same luggage bag she took to New York earlier. I feel a pang of disappointment in my chest, but don’t want it to show in my voice.
“Yeah, I’m going to New York,” she says nonchalantly.
“You’re not going to be home for the weekend?”
She shakes her head and busies herself with applying more makeup. As I watch her go about her routine, I’m overcome with the feeling of the distance between us. She has moved on so far ahead of me, so far that I no longer see her in front of me and don’t know how to call out to her. Is it even fair to call out to her and ask her to come back and pick me up? Can we move forward together? Or would I just be slowing her down?
“I’ll actually be staying in New York for a week. You want to drop by?”
Her words pull me back to reality with a jolt. “Hm?” I ask because I’m unsure of what I heard.
“Do you want to join me and Andrew for the week?” she asks flatly like the offer doesn’t mean much. “I mean, I’ll have to work during the day, but we could have dinner at night? And you could meet Andrew?”
I stare at her, the thoughts spiraling in my head. New York. The city where I lost so much. But also the city where I could be coming closer to my sister. “Yeah—I mean, that would be great.” I clear my throat. “But are you really sure that you want me to meet Andrew?”
“Yeah, why not?” she says flatly again.
“You sound as if this isn’t a big deal for you.”
“This isn’t a big deal for me,” she replies and gets back to rummaging in her luggage bag for something. “I’ll need to leave right now to catch my flight so I’ll head out first. You can join us as soon as you’d like. Just text me your flight details when you’ve booked.”
I’m standing in the middle of the hallway thinking that she really means it. So Rose doesn’t make apple cupcakes anymore but she wants me to meet her husband? Isn’t that what families do? The confusion is swaying me like a pendulum. Do I go or do I not go?
“I think it’s time for Andrew to meet my family,” Rose says out of nowhere and finally finds the scarf she’s been looking for.
I simply nod and let the sense of calm crash over me. “I think it’s time your family met Andrew, too.”
Chapter 8 – Ashley
Steve Parera has been trying to schedule a meeting with me for months now, even though we’re basically contemporaries and go around the same dinners and events and run into each other all the time. I wonder what’s so personal that he needs to meet me privately and have a one on one conversation when he knows exactly the kind of hectic schedule and timeline that we have. Even so, I’ve been blowing him off for quite some time now, ignoring his requests to have a meal together, and I feel embarrassed to say no any longer. When Violet told me he had requested a meeting for the third time this week, I finally relented. Now that I have Rose working on Miranda’s project and Gretchen has sent in the fabrics, a lot of weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
The reservation that Violet made is at the Hilton not too far from Regal’s office. As soon as I step out of the car, I’m reminded of the last time I came to the place. It was with Andrew Brehm, Rose’s husband, when he wanted to recruit me for his fitness company. The hotel’s restaurant turned out to be pretty good and I’ve since been suggesting the place to Violet incessantly. She finally gave in. Most of my other meetings occur in skyrise offices or factory warehouses, neither of which have the class that tonight’s venue possesses. I’m not one to splurge, but sometimes a girl might want to have a good time.
I make it to the table reserved for Steve and me, greeting the manager who seems to remember me from last time. As expected, Steve hasn’t arrived yet, but there’s still time, about ten minutes to be exact. This habit of showing up ahead of time is one I’m unable to kick. It served me well at a point in my life, but not anymore. I know people praise me for it and find it intimidating and alluring at the same time. I’m quite frankly tired of it.
Fifteen minutes later, I find Steve walking across the room, making his way to our table. He’s dressed far more ostentatiously than necessary for a casual dinner. Or am I missing something here?
“Did I keep you waiting for long?” he says rhetorically and we hug each other in greeting. When his hand slips
a little too uncomfortably down my back, I push away instantly. He doesn’t notice that I’m flustered.
We sit down, and I notice Steve’s face and how it seems to have aged a century since the last time I met him.
“Working yourself to death, Parera? You’re not getting any younger,” I say in the same tone that we both maintain when we meet at dinners or parties. But he doesn’t appreciate it.
“We’re not meeting as colleagues tonight, Ashley,” he announces in his thick French accent, suddenly dropping all pretense.
I stiffen in my seat and don’t know what to say to that. It’s unlike me to be getting so worked up. Actually, it’s unlike me to not be putting him in his place.
“We’re not much more than colleagues, Steve. So I don’t know what you’re implying.” I sip my chamomile green tea which seems to already be sedating me to slumber.
Steve’s next motion jolts me awake as he places his hand over mine and when I instinctively try to pull it away he pins it to the table with force. The roughness of his gruffly hands sends alarming warning signs to my head.
“Steve—”
“Ashley, no need to be uptight,” he says then laughs and lets go of my hand.
I don’t find it funny in the slightest, but my body is in shock. I can feel my toes going numb and my hands are shaking underneath the table. I need to speak up right now or walk away, do something to put the filthy scoundrel back in his place. I’m Ashley Wang for god’s sake. But no courage surfaces, not in my voice nor in my body.
“Why are we here?” I ask as brazenly as I can. I just want to go home.
“You look lovely,” he replies.
I get up from my chair with my body still rocking and trembling in fear.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks, but I’m grabbing my purse and walking away already.
