by Sam Couste
Chris made sure the sigh she let out had a touch of weariness to it. “I’m fine. Meds are still working, no spike in anxiety, or panic attacks, or anything like that.”
“But?”
“But…” Chris chewed on her lower lip, then let out another sigh, genuinely heavy this time. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about how much progress I’ve made over the past three months. Especially these last few weeks, I’ve been feeling good. Happy, stable. But I still don’t feel any desire to go back to work.”
“Good,” Anna said, her voice as blunt as a butter knife. “That job was crushing you.”
“It wasn’t the job.” Chris fought to keep the irritation from creeping into her voice. They’d had this argument before, more than once. “It wasn’t one thing that caused the breakdown, you know this.”
“I do. I’m sorry.” Anna looked contrite with her eyebrows knit together. “I know it wasn’t one just one thing, but I thought we also agreed that the stress and pressure of your job was contributing. That’s part of why we moved back home, so you could take some time off.”
It was true, that it wasn’t just one thing to push Chris’ whole world out of whack. But it wasn’t quite true that it was multiple things, either. It had been…nothing, really.
Chris and Anna had thrived at UC Berkeley in undergrad. Chris had majored in engineering and business administration, while Anna had worked on her theatre degree. The diverse town was quirky and queer friendly, a refreshing change from the wary acceptance in their hometown. Anna had immersed herself in the East Bay performing arts scene, and they’d spent four years drinking green juice and mixing kombucha martinis and collecting flyers to yoga classes that they never quite managed to attend.
After graduation, Chris had been accepted to Stanford for her MBA. They’d gotten a studio in Palo Alto that cost more than her parents’ mortgage, and Chris had snagged a steady stream of internships to cover most of their living expenses. Anna did theatre performance work in San Francisco and Santa Barbara, eventually dipping her toe into the indie film scene. She’d take a MegaBus trip down to Los Angeles a few times a year to film a few short movies, but they tried to spend as much time as possible together. Friday night pasta dinners on their cramped balcony, Sunday morning pancakes in bed.
And then Anna lucked into a supporting role on James Andrews’ directorial debut, and Chris had graduated and accepted an offer with a prestigious venture capital firm. Things had been going so well for the both of them, truly.
Until they weren’t anymore.
It happened gradually. Chris would wake up feeling listless, like everything inside of her had been hollowed out. Some days at work she’d freeze, caught up in the sudden certainty that something terrible was going to happen to Anna. She didn’t want to get out of bed; she’d tell Anna she wasn’t feeling well, that her stomach hurt or she had a headache, and those weren’t lies, exactly, but they weren’t complete truths, either.
Anna had dragged Chris to the doctor, but there’d been nothing wrong. There’d been arguments, accusations that Chris was holding back, hiding something from Anna, but Chris hadn’t even been sure what was wrong herself, so how could she have been hiding something? Anna did not like that explanation, and thus the arguing continued.
And then one day, it had all come crashing down.
It had been a particularly good day, oddly enough. They’d slept in and drank French press coffee in bed, then walked downtown to their favorite hummus joint for lunch. Chris had found some cute stationary for Marisol’s birthday and they’d been contemplating which ice cream shop to stop into. They’d been navigating their way through a crowd when all of a sudden Chris’ blood had turned to ice and her forehead had beaded with sweat and she had forgotten how to breathe and the atmosphere bore down and crushed against her, a relentless weight that drew her down to the lifeless concrete beneath her feet.
Chris would never forget the terror that lined Anna’s pale face as the ambulance they couldn’t afford drove them to the emergency room.
There’d been therapy and medication and side effects and adjustments and eventually, Chris had sat down with her bosses and asked for a leave of absence while she worked through her health issues. They’d been understanding and supportive, assuring her that she could come back once she was feeling better.
Better had seemed impossibly out of reach a few months ago, but as the weeks wore on, supported by family, therapy, and medication, Chris had begun to think it might be within her grasp after all.
She let out a deep breath. “True. But I’m doing a lot better. I guess I just wonder if I’m actually making progress when I’m not really doing anything with my life anymore.”
“That is progress,” Anna said gently. “You’re making it through the present, and thinking about the future. That’s awesome. I’m so proud of you, baby. You got this.”
Tears welled up in Chris’ eyes. She attempted to blink them back, but a few slipped out, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“Look what you did,” Chris said with a shaky laugh. “Spread your sappiness to me. You’re contagious.”
“We share everything, babe. Germs, bank accounts, and sap. If you weren’t on board with that, you should have said something back in kindergarten.”
Before Chris could retort, her mother bounded into the kitchen, dressed in a long sleeve satin pajama set printed with cats drinking tea and a thin white robe. Her hair, cut to her chin, framed her face in dark brown waves.
“Is that my favorite redheaded child?” Maria smoothed the top of Chris’ hair, then blew a kiss towards the laptop screen. “Anna, sweetie, are you all settled in? What’s the weather like in Iceland? It’s freezing here!” She pulled the robe tighter around her curves and shivered.
“Ma! It’s at least seventy degrees in here!”
Maria was undeterred. “The thermostat must be off. Or maybe there’s a breeze.” She went over to the counter. She filled the electric tea kettle with water and selected a tea bag from the drawer. “Are you two still having your private time, or can I join you? I don’t want to intrude.”
“You could never intrude,” Anna said. Chris gave her a skeptical look. Her family was extremely close, and while they tried to respect each other’s space, they weren’t always successful.
But Chris wouldn’t change them for anything, and she knew neither would Anna. When her mental health had taken a turn, her parents and older siblings had been there by her side, checking in on her, sending little gifts and texts to cheer her up. And when things had fallen apart, Marisol and Maria had flown out to California to help them pack their things, Tony had driven the U-Haul cross country with Anna while the others flew back with Chris, and Nick had organized Chris’ old childhood bedroom into a cozy setup for the two of them.
Maria’s tea kettle switched off as the steam escaped from the spout. Anna launched into a story about the agonizing debate over which pastry she’d chosen for her final hurrah before the set dietician took over her meals. Chris moved her chair over to make room for Maria, with one last sticky bun finding its way into her mouth.
It was going to be a long three months apart, but she and Anna would make it through. They always did.
Chapter 2
“Damn it!” Marisol threw her scissors down with a frustrated huff and frowned at the wad of fake moss in her hand. “Why can’t I cut in a straight line?”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Tony said as he snipped away at his own sheet of moss. “It’s hard to cut a freeform straight line.”
Marisol waved her moss like a flag of defeat. “I’m not cutting freeform, I’m trying and failing to follow a line. There’s a grid on the back of the sheets.”
“There is?” One eyebrow arched on Tony’s face as he flipped over his moss to take a look. “Huh. Look at that.”
The dining room table was covered in crafting scraps; sheets of moss, tartan ribbon, strips of lace, fake sunflowers, and s
ucculents. Fifteen lanterns, varied in size, shape, and style, were lined up at one end of the table, along with fifteen battery-operated candles. Eventually, everything would come together to create fifteen centerpieces for Marisol and Dion’s wedding reception.
Chris looked up from the fake flowers she was curling ribbon around. “Are you saying that you’ve been freeform cutting squares of moss that fit perfectly on the bottoms of these lanterns?”
“I guess,” Tony shrugged. “First grade teachers have many talents. We do a lot of arts and crafts with shitty safety scissors.” He set down his scissors and slid his moss square into an empty lantern. Each side of the square lined up seamlessly with the edge of the lantern base. “Doesn’t matter, this is the last one, anyway.”
“Good,” Marisol grumbled. “Now we need to arrange the candles and succulents inside each lantern, tie a sunflower and a ribbon around each handle, and add the fake pearls to the…hmm…what were we gonna do with the pearls?”
Tony and Chris exchanged blank looks. “I can’t remember,” Chris mused.
“Me neither,” Tony said. He untangled a string of pearls and held it up against a lantern. “Hmm…It looks weird no matter where I put it. They don’t match the rest of the decorations. But I’m just a worker, not a stylist. Maybe I just can’t tell that they look good.”
“No, you’re right. They don’t match.” Marisol plucked the pearls from Tony’s hand and scowled at them. “I remember adding them to the cart at the craft store. We were super excited about them. Why, though?”
Chris could tell Marisol was getting tense. Marisol was an accountant by trade, and an organizer by nature. She didn’t like it when plans went off course. Chris reached over and took the pearls from Marisol’s hand.
“Forget it,” she said. “Who cares why we bought them? We don’t need them now. The lanterns look awesome as they are. All the aunts will be fighting over who gets to take them home.”
“I can return them after dinner,” Tony added. “Or you can give them to Aunt Gina the next time you see her. She’s always crafting something for someone’s birthday or confirmation or graduation or whatever. They’ll be put to good use.”
Some of the tension left Mari’s shoulders. “You’re right. They’re gonna look amazing. Pearls or no pearls.”
“No pearls,” Tony said firmly. He scooped the pearls into one of the empty craft store bags and tossed it to the floor. “They’re gone forever. Let’s focus on these succulents. Also, my bow tying skills are sadly stuck at a first grade level, so one of you has to do that part.”
“I’m on it.” Chris grabbed a roll of ribbon and started to measure it out against a lantern. “I can’t believe you’re getting married. I mean, I can believe it, you and Dion have been together forever, but you know what I mean.”
Marisol and Dion had met five years ago, while Marisol’s firm was doing pro bono work for the youth nonprofit Dion worked for. They’d gotten engaged after three years, but had decided on a long engagement to allow time for wedding planning and house hunting. Marisol had also used the time to negotiate a remote working schedule so that they could live close to Dion’s work and their families. Marisol loved her job in Philly, but she and Dion planned on having kids, and they wanted those kids to grow up among their innumerable cousins and aunties and tios and grandparents and other assorted relatives.
Chris had liked Dion right away; it would have been hard not to. He had all the empathy and energy required to spend all day with rambunctious teenagers, and that came in handy when hanging around the Marino crew. And he was good together with Marisol; they supported each other’s careers and had worked hard together to build a shared future.
“You’re one to talk,” Marisol replied. “You and Anna have been together for your whole lives.”
It wasn’t technically true—Anna and Chris hadn’t met until kindergarten—but Chris didn’t bother contradicting her sister. The heart of the statement was true. Chris couldn’t remember a time when Anna wasn’t entwined in her life. They’d been inseparable since the moment they’d met. They’d had their first kiss in first grade, when they’d chastely bumped their lips together at the top of the big slide on the playground.
Back then, only Chris had known that Anna was Anna. Chris hadn’t questioned it; Anna was her very best friend, and best friends didn’t lie to each other. If Anna said she was a girl, then that was that. Six years later when Anna had come out officially to her parents, Chris had been right there beside her, squeezing her hand during the more difficult parts of the conversation.
As a duo, they’d been a force of nature, always ready to take on a dare or lead an adventure. Anna was a born entertainer, and growing up as the youngest in a talkative family had given Chris the ability to speak her mind freely. They’d both been stars in their own areas—Chris had dominated the debate team and honors classes, while Anna had been queen of the drama club.
Neither of their families had been surprised when they’d left their small hometown to pursue bigger dreams. If Chris were honest with herself, however, Anna had been the one confident that they could make it on their own out in California. Chris never doubted that her own determination and drive were genuine, but she had often wondered if she would have been as fearless without Anna.
Especially now that she was the one who’d returned, while Anna had kept moving forward.
“Do you two even celebrate an anniversary?” Tony asked. “Is it September first? The first day of school? Do you celebrate at Office Depot, getting all the back to school discounts?”
“Yeah, I get her a new Ninja Turtles backpack every year.” Chris elbowed Tony and rolled her eyes. “Nah, we don’t really celebrate anniversaries. We don’t really have an official date when we became a couple. We were always…well, we were always us.”
“Do you think you two will ever do all this?” Marisol gestured to the mess on the table. “Or some version of it that doesn’t involve hand crafting a bunch of shit that’ll wind up in Aunt Gina’s attic?”
“No way.” Chris shook her head. “No offense, Mari, your wedding will be amazing, but all this prep and planning isn’t our style.”
“You could do something smaller,” Marisol suggested.
“Ha!” Tony snorted with laughter, and Marisol grinned as she shoved his shoulder.
“Yeah, maybe if our family wasn’t so damn big,” Chris said. “I’m not spending a year planning a party for a hundred and fifty people.”
“That’s our family and Dion’s combined,” Marisol protested. “Anna doesn’t have much family outside of us, so you’d only have to invite about…um…a hundred and five people. If you keep the list short like we did.”
Tony laughed even harder. Chris shot her a deadpan look, and Marisol gave a sheepish grin.
“Okay, fair enough. It’s not for everyone. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s for me, and I’m actually doing it.”
“It’s irrelevant anyway,” Tony interrupted. “You don’t need a wedding for a marriage. You two could still tie the knot legally without a ceremony. Let the aunties complain, they’ll get over it once the next cousin gets engaged.”
Chris looked down at the lace between her fingers. “We’ve…talked about that, actually. Last year, when Anna was sick.”
Anna had come down with pneumonia the year before and had to be hospitalized for three days. Coming on the heels of the sixth anniversary of her parents’ death in a car accident, emotions had been raw and running high. Once Anna had stabilized, they had shared whispered conversations over whether they should take steps to cement their relationship’s legal protections.
“We love each other.” Chris had stroked Anna’s hair, pushing the sweaty strands from her forehead. “And it’s not like we haven’t talked about it before. It can’t hurt to check our options with a lawyer. We’re going to be together forever anyway, right? Might as well do the paperwork to make sure we’ll be able to support each other if something happens.”
Anna had been uncharacteristically silent. She moved to rest her hand over Chris’ hand cupped around her cheek. “I know we’ve talked about it. And we do need to get our shit together, what with wills and DNRs and everything. But it’s…”
Her eyes had closed as she took a breath before continuing. “I know we’re already family. Even when my folks were still around, you’ve always been my home. And I know, realistically, marriage won’t change much.”
Fingers stroked against the back of Chris’ hand as Anna’s eyes flew open, two bright hazel lights in her pallid face. “But it’s not just a piece of paper, to me. It means something. I want to promise your mom that I’ll always take care of you, and I want your dad to cry when we exchange vows. I want to celebrate our love out loud, with our family. And I want to do that when we’re ready, not as a knee jerk reaction to a tragedy. I know that probably sounds ridiculous, but—”
Anna had fallen silent as Chris kissed her lips, slow and careful. “No,” Chris had whispered with tears in her eyes and a smile in her heart. “It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all.”
The lace slipped through Chris’ fingers as the memory ran through her mind. They hadn’t discussed marriage since. Once Anna had recovered, they’d both been swept up in work and life, and then Chris had fallen apart, and they’d moved back home, and Anna had gone to Iceland, and—
“Chris? You okay?”
Tony’s voice brought Chris out of her thoughts. She forced a smile to soothe the worry written in her siblings’ expressions.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got lost in my head for a minute.” She cleared her throat and put the lace down on the table. “Anyway, I don’t know about marriage for Anna and me. I guess we’ll talk about it again when she’s done filming.”
“Makes sense,” Marisol said.
Tony nodded in agreement. “Definitely. It’s a big decision. Which is why I’m glad I’ll never have to make it. You two can add onto the family if you want, but I’m tapped out. I’ll be too busy working on my World’s Best Tio title.”
