“What?” I shriek, but thankfully no one seems to notice. “What are you talking about? I thought things were going good. Is this about Sasha?”
“It is.” He drains the rest of his glass, grunting from the burn of the strong liquor. “I should have listened to you.”
“What do you mean?” I bite my lip. This isn’t happening.
“You were right, she’s no good.” He broods.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else and not ruin their moment.” I look back, making sure we haven’t drawn any attention to ourselves. “Let’s go into the kitchen so we can talk.”
He gives a curt nod, and my feet drag across the hallway floor, following behind him. They feel like they’ve doubled in size, the weight on my shoulders dropping down to my toes. I hope the good whiskey is in the kitchen when we get there, because I have a feeling I’m gonna need some myself.
“Sasha came into my office to talk with me today,” he says once we’re in the privacy of the kitchen. “She wanted to give me an explanation for our breakup. Finally, after all these years.” He sets his empty glass on the counter, but I see no trace of the bottle. “And it turns out there was someone else.”
“What?” All the air expels from my lungs, puffing out the word. I already know what he’s saying, but I’m not acting, I genuinely can’t breathe.
“She said she knew I had the ring but claimed that she was falling in love with someone else while we were together.” Every word he chokes out causes acid to rise up my throat. “I’m so stupid. She was in love with someone else and I never knew.”
I swallow, gulp, hack, cough, desperate to rid myself of the burning bile generating inside of me.
“Yeah, but you’ve admitted that looking back you realize now that you never really loved her,” I say fast. “You said Tina helped you realize that.”
“Whatever love was or wasn’t there, I had a ring ready to propose, and all that time she was in love with another person. And I never saw it. After we broke up, I spent months making up excuses at work functions that she was sick or visiting family. I always believed she was coming back, that she had to because she had left me for no justifiable reason. It was confusing. Humiliating. And now three years later, she waltzes into my office on Christmas Eve because she’s finally decided it’s time to come clean and give me an explanation.”
I knew this wouldn’t work out. I was crazy to ever think there was a chance for a happy ending in all this.
“Maybe she wanted to tell you but was scared?”
“If she was so scared, why tell me now?” His hands roll into fists at his side “Is there some reason for it? I was clueless then, maybe I’m clueless now. Am I clueless now, Jenn? Is there something I’m missing?”
My hands start to tremble, and I grasp the back of a chair for support. Even though Sasha didn’t mention me, maybe it was obvious. Maybe Henry was finally able to put the pieces together and figure out what happened?
“I’m so sorry, Henry.” My voice is barely audible.
“Is there something with Tina that I’m not seeing?” He paces, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Am I still a fool? Will she do the same thing one day? And I won’t ever see it coming?”
Oh my God, this reaction, it isn’t about me or even Sasha. Yes, he’s angry, but more so, he’s terrified of losing Tina.
“Henry, no, Tina loves you.” I leave the safety of the chair and walk over to comfort him. “Sasha falling in love with another woman had nothing to do with anything you did.”
“What?” His dark green eyes bore into me, reading, searching, digging. “I never said it was a woman.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUUUUUUCK!
“I’m sorry. Lesbian brain.” I tap my head so hard it hurts, slowly stepping backwards. Where the fuck is something to drink? I turn on my heels and stalk over to the freezer in search of some whiskey. “You know me, I just assume everyone loves women,” I say, my ugly lying face concealed by the frozen peas.
“Jenn, did you know?” I can feel his presence right behind me.
“Know what?” Aha, Adam’s emergency Fireball stash. I slam the freezer shut with my hip, avoiding his penetrating stare. No glass. No problem. I twist the cap off and gulp directly from the bottle.
“Did you know that she was a lesbian?” He snatches the bottle from my hand and sets it down with a crack on the counter. “Did you know all this time and you never told me?”
“I might... have had some suspicions.” I wince, picking at a piece of lint on my festive red sweater. Like when I went down on her the day after you broke up.
I’m a horrible person. A horrible sister.
“If you knew, why didn’t you ever say anything?” His voice is laced with a pain I’ve never heard from him before.
“I wasn’t sure,” I say quietly, hanging my head. After everything happened between me and Sasha, we had an argument. We didn’t speak. I ignored her calls. Her voicemails. I didn’t want to hear her say that it was a mistake. I didn’t want to know if it was all just a lie. Mostly, I didn’t want him to ever find out what really happened.
“Hey, you two, we were wondering where you went.” Mom walks in, Remi bouncing behind her. “We’re going to open some champagne and celebrate. Is this a fantastic Christmas or what?”
Remi spots the open bottle of cinnamon whiskey on the counter.
“Is this my fiancé’s Fireball?” She giggles, picking it up. “Because if it’s my fiancé’s, then I should probably pour some for my fiancé.” She takes the extra few seconds to pull out the shot glasses. “Would my fiancé’s sister like some? What about my fiancé’s brother?” Her head swivels around. “Where’d he go?”
He’s gone. Left the room. Can’t stand the sight of me. And he doesn’t even know the whole truth. Just that I may have known about Sasha and never told him.
Forget baby steps. There are no steps that will work in this situation.
The secret thing isn’t working out. The truth thing isn’t going to work out.
My heart breaks as I become blisteringly aware...
Sasha and I aren’t going to work out.
Ghost of Christmas Past
I call one more time. No answer. I can’t believe I’m not going to even get to talk to her on Christmas.
After my conversation with Henry, I had taken more baby steps with my own family. Even though they won’t celebrate the holiday for two more weeks, my parents had a small family gathering last night that I attended.
When Aunt Irene asked me if there was a special man in my life, I flat-out said no. Aunt Natalia told me not to worry. I let her know I wasn’t worried. I was even so bold as to say that I didn’t see a man in my future. Although, that’s when my mother shot me a side glance full of warning and my boldness dissipated.
My apartment is so empty without her here. Music is in the background, the tree is lit, and I just opened a very expensive bottle of cabernet gifted to me by my boss. All that’s missing is her. I pick up my phone and check. Still nothing.
The conversation with Henry yesterday was certainly uncomfortable, and I wonder how he’s doing, how he’s dealing with the new information I shared. I know it was a lot. And yet he still only got half the truth. I wish I could have told him everything.
Actually, if I’m making wishes, then I wish I had told him back then, when my feelings for Jenn first began. Been honest with him about why I was leaving.
Breaking up with him while my head was reeling with thoughts of her, it was the wrong way to do things. I’ve always regretted it.
“Really, you’re packing all that for the trip?” He chuckles at my overflowing suitcase.
Henry thinks I’m packing for a business trip I’m scheduled to accompany him on to Germany. What he doesn’t know is that three cardboard boxes of my stuff have already been loaded into my car. I’m not going to Germany. I’m leaving him.
I can’t stay with him. I have to go. I have to end things. It has to be now
.
“Henry, I’m not going to Germany.”
“Of course, you’re going. Everything is already all set.” Henry only hears what he wants to hear. I’m sure the trip is all set, every last second carefully thought and planned out. I’m sure he’s already arranged a list of things for me to do while he’s tending to business. The organization and management that I once appreciated in him, I now find stifling.
I know it’s because of her.
Does he see it? That I’ve changed. Become more aware. Grown.
“I’m leaving tonight,” I say and haphazardly stuff a few sweaters on top of the pile in my suitcase.
“Sasha, you don’t pack sweaters like that. You roll them. It allows for more room.” He grabs the first sweater and stretches it out across the mattress, carefully gathering before neatly rolling.
“Henry, are you listening?” I encourage his attention away from the sweater and onto me. “I said I’m leaving. I’m leaving you.”
“But what about Germany?” He stares blankly at me. “And the Harvest charity event?” It doesn’t come as a surprise that business obligations are what come to his mind. He’s driven that way. Programmed for hard work and success. I fit perfectly with his lifestyle. Accommodating and cultured. It’s what he likes best about me. But that’s because it’s all he really knows. He has no idea who I really am.
He doesn’t know that I broke my arm in second grade and then again in seventh, both times a skateboard-related injury. Both times the only times I ever used a skateboard. He doesn’t know that I sold the most Girl Scout cookies for Troop 34 when I was ten. Or that I threw up from eating too many of the shortbread cookies my parents purchased in order to get me that top-seller honor.
But she does.
“I’m sorry. I know this is unexpected, but trust me, it’s for the best.”
“The best? How could you leaving me be ‘for the best’?” His face registers that maybe now my words are slowly sinking in. “We work so well together,” he says, and we do. “I love you,” he says, but he doesn’t. How can he? We only know each other on the surface. I know it’s hard for him now, but in time he’ll see that we were never meant for each other. That we were never in love.
The last of my clothing gets shoved into my suitcase, and I struggle to close it. Henry steps in and effortlessly closes and clasps the piece of luggage.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Don’t go. Don’t do this.” He rubs his forehead. “What did I do?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing you did.” It isn’t.
“It has to be. If I haven’t done anything, why would you leave?”
“I think you know why,” I say, and it’s an instant regret. He has no clue. Even though it’s all been there, happening around him for months now, he’s remained clueless. For a fleeting moment, I think about telling him. Spilling my guts. But fear gets the best of me. “You deserve better, Henry.”
“What about the rest of your things?” Henry lifts my heavy suitcase down to the floor, raising the handle and tilting it onto its wheels.
“My car is already packed.” My eyes land on the different pieces of furniture we purchased together when we moved in. “The rest of the things are yours.”
“What can I do to make you stay? To change your mind?” His knuckles turn white around the handle of my final packed bag. He’s angry. He doesn’t like flaws. Me leaving like this is a flaw. One he doesn’t understand. One he can’t fix.
“There’s nothing you can do.” I reach out to take my suitcase away from him.
“I’ll take care of it.” He starts to roll it toward the bedroom door.
“No. I’ve got it,” I insist, grabbing hold of the handle and rolling it out of the room on my own.
I’m pretty sure I’ve already left him with enough baggage.
What the hell is in this wine? I blink my eyes away from the hazy memory and set the glass down. It’s Christmas, time for joy, not reliving awful memories.
There’s a knock at my door, and a quick peek through the peephole instantly returns my happy holiday spirit.
It’s Jenn.
Bad Tidings to You
Her face lights up when she opens the door.
Why wouldn’t it? It’s Christmas. We’re in love. Joy is all around.
Only it isn’t.
I’m going on very little sleep. Christmas morning was a mixture of beaming brother versus brooding brother. Henry still won’t look at me. He’s furious. And that’s without knowing the worst part. My imagination ran wild all night wondering how he’d react if he did know the missing piece of information.
Last night, when sleep was harder to come by then when I was seven and waiting on Santa, I tried flipping things in my mind. I’m the one with Sasha and she falls in love with Henry, my own brother, then years later begins a secret relationship with him. In my reverse imagination, I handle the situation ten times worse than he does.
So... Merry Christmas, Sasha. I’m here to break up with you.
“How was Christmas with the family? Henry wasn’t weird about anything, was he?” I slip out of my coat, and she pours a second glass of wine, handing it to me. “Tell me if this wine tastes normal to you.”
I take the glass and sip because I’m not ready to say anything just yet. I stare at Sasha’s wine-stained lips, memorizing them, locking away the way they taste and feel. Because tonight, this really is goodbye.
The secret of our love, the secret relationship we started, it’s all going away. Tonight things end with Sasha and the secret we have ends right along with it. Henry will never know.
So... Merry Christmas, Henry. I’m breaking up with her for you.
“Something’s wrong. What?” She inhales sharply through her nose and purses her lips. “Henry didn’t take my news well. You’re here to end things,” she says calmly.
I nod. I don’t want to talk. I’m not even sure that I can.
“You’re not willing to try anymore? Take the small steps until we can finally work this all out?” Her arms cross over her chest and she lifts her wineglass up to her lips for another sip. She remains poised and in control, unlike me, who’s afraid if I utter one word I will break down and sob.
I shake my head. No.
“It’s fine,” she says coolly. “I don’t want to be with the immature Jenn who ignores problems. I thought you had matured. Or at least were in the process of maturing. But I can see I was wrong.”
The anger she provokes sends away the sadness and brings back my voice.
“You’re an only child who doesn’t know what it’s like to have siblings. You’re fucking scared to even tell your own parents. So how dare you accuse me of being immature? Where’s your fucking maturity?” I holler. “You came to me three years ago right after breaking up with him. I wasn’t prepared. You left me terrified, confused, and guilty. And now you’re acting as if this is some small issue with an easy solution. It isn’t. You don’t get it. He’s hurt. He feels betrayed. He’s embarrassed. He’s scared it will happen again.”
“Are you saying it’s all my fault?” She walks over to the wine bottle and refills her glass with her back to me. “All I wanted was to talk to you that day.”
“Then why did you kiss me?” I ask.
“It was just a kiss. The rest that happened. I don’t know that it was all my fault.” She whips around, two brown eyes firing daggers in my direction. “But you watched the video, you tell me—was it all my fault, Jennifer?”
She places her hands on my cheeks, and I think she’s going to wipe away the tears just like she did the frosting. But she doesn’t. Instead, she leans down and presses her lips against mine.
My hands go to her shoulders, ready to push her away. Only I don’t push.
I can. But I don’t.
My fingers comb through her silky hair, and I gently press them into the back of her head, bringing her in closer, letting her know how much I’ve craved this kiss.
My tongue collide
s with hers for the first time, and fireworks go off. Am I the only one feeling this or is she too? Was her kiss that of friendship or something more? I slow down, backing away, giving her a chance to go if I’ve misstepped.
Her breathing is labored, pulling in air between her swollen lips. She doesn’t move forward, but she doesn’t move away. She doesn’t move at all.
I’m not sure what’s happening, but I urge her back to my lips and she doesn’t resist. I tuck a few strands of her soft hair behind her ear and kiss the delicate skin of her neck, easing her back into the feathery comforter on my bed.
I knew feelings toward her were there, but I didn’t realize what those feelings were until this moment.
My hand slides underneath her blouse, splaying my fingers over her smooth stomach, inching their way up. When I reach the lace of her bra and reach back to undo the clasp, she releases a sigh.
Her shirt gets removed, cast to the side along with her lacy bra. I sit up, grabbing the hem of my shirt, and raise it over my head, tossing it to the side as well. My bra unhooks in the front and I give her a sensual show while taking it off, displaying one breast at a time. My nipples are hard and her hooded eyes land on them; deep gasps follow, making her chest swell. The dark color of her skin flushes to a burgundy. I lower myself down and take one of her taut nipples into my mouth. Her flowery scent and blissful noises overload my senses as my tongue swirls over her tight bud. The more of her I taste, the more of her I want.
My lips press and my teeth tease a path back down to her belly. My hands hesitate over the top button of her jeans. If there was a stopping point, this would be it. She moans and lifts her hips up as an answer to my unsaid question.
Her jeans lower, and so do I.
This is so wrong. I can stop. But again I don’t.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
“No, it’s not all your fault.” I slam a flat hand against my chest. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have pushed for more. I should have walked away. Stopped myself. The second I knew I was developing feelings toward you, I should have distanced myself. It’s my fault. He’s my brother, and I stole his girlfriend.”
Whiskey Flick Page 7
