The Road Home

by Erin Zak

  She closes her eyes and leans against the wall beside the entryway. After pulling a few deep breaths in through her nose and releasing them through her mouth, she thinks she may have averted a panic attack. Narrowly, but she succeeded. Until she hears the doors open, hears familiar footsteps, and feels a hand on her arm. Her heart rate escalates again when it registers all the familiarity that now accompanies Lila. And she hates how much she loves it, even though she is so jealous about everything concerning Lila and Lila’s place in her family.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice is smooth but heavy, like a summer night after a storm. Lila squeezes her forearm, and her stomach fills with butterflies.

  If she answers, it’s going to sound a lot shittier than she wants it to, but how does she fix something which hasn’t happened yet? She’s upset, she’s sad, and worst of all, she’s left out. Not only out of the family, which is hard enough, but out of the important information and decision-making. The realization is slamming into her like a freight train.

  “Gwendolyn—”

  “Stop.”

  “I’m only trying to be here for you.”

  Gwendolyn opens her eyes. “Are you?” She stares into the dark depth of Lila’s irises. She has barely any makeup on, her hair is still slicked back from afternoon practice, and her shirt smells slightly of sweat coupled with laundry detergent. The fragrance is not bothering Gwendolyn at all. In fact, it’s doing the exact opposite. “You don’t need to be here for me. Okay?”

  She suppresses an eye roll because it won’t match the way her words came out. They were supposed to carry much more weight than sadness and depression. Unfortunately, the worst intentions are sometimes the best, and her tone is more welcoming than standoffish, and it opens a door for Lila to walk through, and all the while, she’s offering a small smile and a gentle squeeze. Gwendolyn wants to shake off the touch, but it feels way too good and way too sincere to ignore.

  “And here I thought I successfully dislodged the chip on your shoulder. Guess I was wrong.” Lila’s chuckle is not okay because fuck her for thinking she had a chip on her shoulder to begin with. But also, the breathy noise sounds wonderful, and it makes her heart swell. The desire to dislike Lila has died, but she’s holding on to every thread of animosity she can get as she waits to bury it completely. The threads are starting to wear thin, though, and she knows it’s only a matter of time before Lila starts to cut them one by one.

  “There is no chip.”

  “Oh, isn’t there?” Her smile is too much to handle, so Gwendolyn looks away, stares at the tile floor, and hopes someone interrupts them because she doesn’t want to break. She wants to remain strong. Well, she wants to remain unfazed. Unfazed by the cancer. Unfazed by her mother. Unfazed by Lila. Unfazed by Lila’s hand when she places it so gently on her forearm. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

  “Am I?” She looks into Lila’s eyes again. “Am I? Really? Because I’m not a part of this. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “Gwen…”

  She wants to smack the familiarity of her shortened name out of Lila’s mouth. She wants to shout at her. They are not in a place where familiar is okay. In fact, all familiar is doing is making Gwendolyn’s insides churn. She can feel the despair inside her stomach, her chest, rising, rising… And when she swallows once, it doesn’t help dislodge the lump.

  The lump.

  Her mother has a lump in her lung. A giant fucking cancer lump, and goddammit, it’s not fair.

  “I’m going to go for a walk.”

  “Wait.” Lila pulls on her arm. “You are a part of this. You need to be here.”

  “Oh yeah? Why didn’t you tell me, then? Hmm?” She studies Lila’s face. “Why, when you asked if I was staying, didn’t you also add, because your mother is dying? Why am I the last fucking person in my family to know?” She gets the last of her words out seconds before the vomit starts to build. She bites down on the inside of her cheek so hard she almost draws blood. “She has who she needs.”

  Gwendolyn yanks her arm away and rushes down the hallway. Her sandals squeak loudly until finally she pushes through an exit into the sunlight.

  * * *

  Lila doesn’t say okay to dinner at first. She tells Carol it’s not a good idea, and she needs to give Gwendolyn space with her family. Carol is insistent, though, which is normal. Carol’s way or the highway is always how it goes. Ever since Lila moved in, it’s been that way, but it’s even more the case now. Lila isn’t bothered by it, and honestly, it’s even more important now to let Carol get her way.

  The knowledge that Gwendolyn will be there is sitting on Lila’s chest like an anvil. She’s having trouble taking deep breaths, which pisses her off because last night, Gwendolyn was so different, and she thought Gwendolyn was going to turn a corner and stop being such a mean person.

  Today was a different story.

  What she doesn’t seem to understand is that Lila didn’t ask for any of this. She didn’t ask for a second family in the Carters. She didn’t ask for a second mother in Carol. She didn’t ask for the security of a roof over her head and a place to call home. It was given to her freely, and why wouldn’t she take it?

  Dinner has been quiet so far. Unnervingly so. Carol is clearly not feeling well. The start of the second round of chemo is hitting her harder than the first.

  “You can expect her to be very tired,” Dr. Wynn said after the infusion earlier. “She’s going to be achy. She’s probably not going to want to eat. But…” She’d looked at Carol and smiled broadly. “You’re gonna have to eat, Carol. You hear me?”

  “I know, I know,” she answered, waving off the doctor’s orders. Lila was grateful she was there for the conversation because David was nowhere to be found, which was so frustrating and unfortunate, but normal. And Gwendolyn…well, after her storm out, she didn’t come back. Lila found herself in the same position she’d been in a hundred times before. She was the only person in Carol’s life who showed up.

  After dinner, Carol excuses herself to the living room to sit in her favorite chair to rest. And as Lila helps clean up, she makes sure to keep to herself. David goes to sit with Carol and keep her company. His attempts of late are poor, but they still make a slight impression on her ever-dwindling respect for him. She hopes he stops being so nonexistent because his absence is only going to be more obvious as the days pass.

  And Gwendolyn is being, well, Gwendolyn…

  Lila looks up as she passes a dish to Gwendolyn, who rinses methodically, starting at the top, the sides, and rotating the plate under the water. She shakes off the excess water and hands the plate back, never making eye contact, never lifting her head more than an inch. She’s in a zone where Lila knows she’s not welcome, but it’s so hard to find a place outside of the zone where she doesn’t feel as if her skin is crawling off her body. She grew up in this house, for Christ’s sake, and now she feels as if she’s the guest when she’s spent as much time there as Gwendolyn has.

  “Can I ask you something?” Lila keeps her voice soft. She doesn’t want to startle Gwendolyn from whatever thought she’s turning over in her mind.

  Gwendolyn doesn’t look up. “I guess.”

  “Why didn’t you come back?”

  “I needed air and space.”

  “No,” Lila says. “I mean, here to the house, to Vale Park, after college.”

  Gwendolyn looks out the kitchen window at the backyard. The sun is low, almost set. “I needed air and space.” She glances at Lila quickly, and before even a second passes, she’s looking back out the window. Something’s in her eyes, though. Lila can’t put her finger on what. Is it sadness? Is it regret? Is it…longing?

  “What happened between you and your mother?”

  “Look,” Gwendolyn says as she shuts the water off. Lila’s eyes are drawn to her profile, to the slope of her nose, her high cheekbones, the way her jawline is so chiseled against the soft skin of her neck. Gwendolyn clenches her jaw, the muscles flex, then
relax, then flex again before she finally finishes with, “I know we had like, what? A moment? Or whatever last night, but I was leaving, and now, even though I am clearly not needed, I am staying.” Her eyes fill with tears. Lila feels them herself in the back of her throat. The ache is so apparent, she almost clutches her neck at the back, the front, anywhere to stop the feeling. “This is not something I want or need. You don’t either.”

  Lila wants to protest because how the fuck would Gwendolyn know what she wants, but the words are stuck in her throat. She swallows once, opens her mouth, but again, nothing happens.

  “I don’t matter, and I should.”

  There are tears in Lila’s eyes before she can stop them. She gets exactly what Gwendolyn is feeling, even though she’s so wrong. Gwendolyn matters so much. Not only to Carol but to David and fuck, now to her, and how does she explain this to Gwendolyn without sounding like a complete lunatic?

  “Girls?”

  Gwendolyn wipes the tears before answering. She clears her throat and shouts, “What, Dad?”

  “Can you two please come into the bathroom?”

  Gwendolyn’s eyes widen as she sniffles and rushes through the kitchen to the downstairs bathroom. Lila is right behind, trying her hardest to not watch Gwendolyn’s long legs, the short gym shorts, the tight tank top, but it’s futile. What is it about her that causes Lila to lose track of herself? She’s cold, she’s not caring, and honestly, she’s sort of a bitch.

  Then why, oh why, is she having to pull herself, her heart, her soul, back from this unbearable woman? She needs to be focusing on Carol and not on Carol’s asshole daughter who is clearly heartless.

  Lila turns the corner and stops abruptly outside of the bathroom. She can barely see over Gwendolyn’s shoulder, but Carol is standing at the sink, looking in the mirror.

  “Is everything okay?” Gwendolyn asks, and her voice is breathless. Maybe she does care more than she’s willing to let on…

  “Oh yes, I’m good, dear,” Carol says with a smile. She glances at Gwendolyn in the mirror. “I was wondering if…” Her voice shakes as her face softens. “If you could help me shave my head?”

  Lila’s breath catches. She blinks, hoping the tears don’t betray her. This is only the second round of chemo. How is it already time to see the effects the poison has on Carol’s body? She searches her memory for the oncologist’s words, for the warnings, for the side effects and the timelines, and comes up blank.

  “You can use my clippers.” David’s hands are on Carol’s shoulders, and Lila notices the way he squeezes at the end of his sentence. “Let me go get them.”

  Lila cannot stop herself from grabbing the bottom of Gwendolyn’s tank top. She grips it, pulls on it lightly before she clears the emotion from her throat. “I’ll get a spot set up in the kitchen.” She says the words into Gwendolyn’s shoulder, and the heat of her breath bounces back. She realizes how close she is, and it’s not lost on her that Gwendolyn never moves or shrugs her off.

  * * *

  Gwendolyn is not ready for this. She saw her dad do it before. Watched as her mother’s hair fell to the floor in clumps. They made it an adventure because it was supposed to be the last time it ever happened. “A bald hairdo. Something to cross off my bucket list, right, Gwennie?”

  She remembers everything about that night. The ice cream sundaes, rewatching Sleeping Beauty for the hundredth time, saying with sleep in her voice, “I want to shave my head, too, Mama.” Of all the memories Gwendolyn made sure to hold on to, it is one of her favorites because her relationship with her mother fell apart as she got older. Those were the good times, before reality seemed worse than the possibility of death.

  “Are you really ready to do this now, Mom?” Gwendolyn is holding the electric clippers in her left hand. She told her dad he could do it, but he laughed it off. He isn’t eager to be involved anymore, or he doesn’t want to be involved. Either way, it’s frustrating. She wants to know what happened to cause the shift, but she’s pretty sure there is nothing at all that can ever come between her parents.

  “Do it. It’s only going to get worse if I don’t take care of it now.” Her mother takes a deep breath and lets out a chuckle. “I can’t wait to not have to do my hair in the mornings.”

  “Carol,” Lila says with a laugh. “I love your outlook.”

  “That’s what they say, right?”

  “Who is they? And what do they say?” Gwendolyn notices her hands are shaking, so she places the clippers on the counter, then from behind, lays her hands on the sides of her mother’s head. She guides her to tilt her head back, and she can see how much hair has already been lost on the top. The sight causes Gwendolyn to purse her lips together hard. She glances at Lila, who is staring at her, and thankfully, her gaze has a calming effect.

  “Oh, I don’t know. People?” Her mother tilts her head farther back, “And they say a positive outlook helps.”

  Gwendolyn swallows.

  “Come on, honey, I’m not going to change my mind.”

  Gwendolyn swallows again, and like a support beam she didn’t know she needed, Lila is standing beside her whispering, “You can do this,” against her ear and placing a hand on the small of her back. Gwendolyn takes the clippers again and flips the switch on. They buzz to life, and she takes a deep breath as she runs a hand over her mother’s hair. She knows it’s now or never. She bites her lip, not as hard as she had earlier, but hard enough that it spurs her into action. She places the clippers at her mother’s hairline along her forehead and does one full swipe from the front to the back of the scalp.

  “Should we leave it like that?” Her mother’s question causes Gwendolyn to smile, and out of nowhere, she’s laughing. “It’s like a reverse mohawk.”

  “The girls would love it.” Lila laughs. “I think we could start a trend.”

  “Take a picture of us, Lila.” Carol motions for Gwendolyn to bend down. “Get in this with me, honey.” Gwendolyn does as she watches Lila breeze to her purse and pull her phone out. She stops in front of them and squats.

  “Okay, smile, you two.” Her eyes are on the screen, and Gwendolyn flashes a grin and mimics her mother’s thumbs-up. “This is Facebook worthy.”

  “Well, don’t post it on Facebook. Let’s surprise the girls in the morning.”

  Gwendolyn knows that means her mother will be getting up at the ass crack of dawn to get to volleyball practice. She shouldn’t be pushing herself like that, but holding Carol Carter back is not something anyone should ever attempt. When Gwendolyn stands up and flips the clippers on again, she glances at Lila, who is looking at her phone. She looks at Gwendolyn finally, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward. The simple gesture calms Gwendolyn’s nerves even more, which is a very good thing. “Ready, Mom?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  After all the hair has been swept from the kitchen floor, Gwendolyn slumps in a chair at the breakfast nook. She takes her hair down from the ponytail and runs her hands through it. “Should I shave my head in solidarity?”

  Lila chuckles but doesn’t make eye contact. The sound of her soft laughter is sensual, and it makes Gwendolyn’s stomach bottom out. “That would be a wonderful gesture, but I don’t think it’s necessary. Besides…” Lila pauses, fidgeting with her phone. Her eyes lock on Gwendolyn’s, and the stare is intense. Too intense for this moment and too intense for Gwendolyn’s battered emotions. “Your hair is pretty spectacular.”

  Heat washes over Gwendolyn’s body. She’s never been able to hide embarrassment, and the heat creeps up her neck and over her face, written all over her. Lila’s flirty comment was not misread. Well, hopefully not, anyway. “You’re too kind,” she whispers.

  “May I say something?”

  Gwendolyn nods. “Yes, but…” She stops and leans back, moving her hair over her shoulder. She realizes how seductive the move probably looks, but at this particular moment, she doesn’t care. “You don’t need to ask before you speak.”

  Ap
parently, it’s Lila’s turn to blush because the pink in her cheeks is not unnoticed. “Well, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Forgive me if this is out of line.” Lila leans against the bench in the nook. She stretches an arm along the back, her other hand on the table, her fingers drumming on the reclaimed barn wood. “I think you being here is needed way more than you realize.”

  Her statement isn’t out of line, so Gwendolyn releases the breath she was holding. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “And you were wonderful with her tonight.”

  “I miss her.” She hears the words slip past her lips and into the air before she realizes she was even thinking them. There are tears in her eyes, and she clears her throat and looks at the ceiling to prevent them from escaping. “It’s not something I’m proud of, y’know?”

  “What?”

  “Not coming home…leaving this part of myself behind.”

  “Oscar Wilde wasn’t right.” Lila smiles. “I think you’ll realize that before long.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do.”

  Gwendolyn sighs as she looks around the kitchen, the walls, the floor, anything to keep her eyes off Lila’s because all she wants to do is let go of herself and see where Lila will take her. None of this is okay, though. Not only was it not okay last night, it’s not okay now. Now that she’s staying. Now that she’s unsure of where her relationship with her mother will go. There are so many unknowns, and Lila cannot be one of them right now.