by Kellie Bean
Rosie’s lip quirk into a smile. “What did you have in mind?”
Right on cue, the kettle finishes boiling. I quickly drop a tea bag into the mug in my hand, not bothering with any milk and sugar. Grace has never like tainted tea, as she calls it. There’s nothing in the world she likes more than a hot cup of Earl Gray. “Just take this over to her. You’ll win about a thousand points.”
Aunt Grace stops talking mid-sentence as soon as Rosie appears in front of her. “Is that for me?” she asks, green eyes wide.
“Yes...uh, I hope this is okay.” Stammering, Rosie leans over to leave the mug on the kitchen table.
“Wait a second,” Grace says, before Rosie can retreat. “I know who you are!”
It feels like the whole room takes in a deep breath at once. It takes me a second to figure out why. My sisters, their friends, probably even Rosie—who I definitely didn’t mean to send straight into the lion’s den—are waiting to see how our aunt will react to meeting her niece’s girlfriend. I never even thought to worry. There’s no need. Not with Aunt Grace.
“You’re the girl who has won over our Reilly, hmm?”
“Uh...” Rosie looks over at me, and I know I should step in. “Yes.” She wipes her palm on her jeans before offering it to my aunt. “I’m Rosie. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Aunt Grace beams up at my girlfriend before shaking her hand enthusiastically. “Good to meet you! About time the ladies of the world realized what a catch Reilly is. Can’t do any better than a Donovan girl, I always say. Rosie, you say. Are you Irish by any chance?”
Still blushing a little, Rosie shakes her head before falling into a long spiel about her family background.
Before long, they’re talking like old friends. Everyone is. My aunt seems as at home in a room full of teenagers as she does absolutely everywhere else. All I can do is keep pouring cup after cup of tea. From the looks on a few of Reece’s friends faces, they aren’t fans of the hot, flavored water. Anyone who turns down a cup gets a stern look from our aunt before sheepishly taking what they’ve been given.
That’s always been Aunt Grace. For as long as I can remember, she’s been able to get people talking, and to turn strangers into friends, specifically her friends. What’s new is her turning up here completely unannounced. Last I’d heard, she was planning a trip to New Zealand with her best friend without bothering to book a return flight. Instead, she ended up in the States with three full suitcases and still no return ticket.
If this is where she wants to be, then I’m totally happy to have her, even if it means giving up my room for a few days. Or weeks.
With Aunt Grace, you just never know.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After a crazy day of friends and unexpected family, I'm too wired to sleep. It gets to the point where I'm just lying on the couch, checking my phone every few minutes just to find out how much sleep I've missed out on already.
Eventually, I give up and get up. It's not like the couch is uncomfortable, just different than what I'm used to. Hopefully I'll get the hang of sleeping down here soon, but it doesn't look like tonight is going to be that night.
As I move slowly across the living room toward the back of the house, trying desperately not to wake anyone, I have to appreciate how peaceful the house is at this time of night. Maybe this is what it will be like living on my own, away from my family. My own quiet space where the only person making any noise is me.
I could get used to that, even if I'm not quite ready to start looking forward to it. I still have a life of dorm rooms and shared apartments off campus to get through first, but it's kind of a fun thought.
But the noise I make when I flip the light on in the kitchen is anything but peaceful.
"Shrreieghahhhh!" I yell, startled by the sight of someone sitting hunched over at the table, shapeless and covered in what looks like pink fur.
Maybe I was sleeping after all and this is the world's weirdest dream.
Right away, an equally horrified noise answers back as the form jumps up, clothed in a bright pink, fuzzy robe.
"Aunt Grace?" I ask, confused. I'm trying to catch my breath, once I realize who I'm looking at. "What were you doing sitting in the dark? You scared me!" A nervous laugh escapes my lips, probably fueled by the fact that for a second there I was pretty sure I was going to die, and the reality is a lot easier to take.
Grace tilts her head back toward the ceiling, breathing deep for a moment before looking at me. "I scared you? There I was, having a nap in a perfectly reasonable spot when someone starts screaming at me like a banshee. My goodness." I think she's trying to joke with me, to ease some of the tension, but her eyes are still darting around the room in panic, and she looks a little paler than usual. "I'm sorry about that, hun. I came down for a cuppa, and was just scrolling through stuff on my phone. I must have fallen asleep."
From behind me, the sound of feet thumping down the steps fills the hall. Within seconds, both my dad and Reagan are at the door to the kitchen, forcing me to back up toward my aunt to let them in.
"What happened? What's wrong?" My dad asks, searching the room and its occupants for any sign of something wrong.
"Sorry, sorry," Aunt Grace says, wincing apologetically. "I was...nevermind. It was my fault. I just spooked her. Everything's okay?"
Still looking half asleep, Dad looks over at me to confirm, and I nod. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I was. Couldn't sleep though, was just getting something to drink. I'll go back in a minute, I promise."
"And you?" He asks, turning to Reagan.
"The Reilly alarm woke me up. Going back to bed now," she says, stepping backwards down the hall, probably hoping that Dad won't noticed she doesn't look remotely rumpled or sleepy. If I had to guess, I'd say my sister has been using the new bedroom arrangement to stay up late playing City of Ages, but it's not like I'm going to say anything.
I expect my aunt to excuse herself to go back to my room, but instead she sits back down at the table.
"If you wanted some space, I can go," I say, as it dawns on me that maybe she was in here because she wanted some alone time.
"No, please, stay. I've already booted you out of your bedroom. I'm just adjusting to jet lag, which apparently means my body is more comfortable sitting than anything else. I don't know. You'd think I'd have the hang of all this by now."
"I was just going to make some chamomile to see if I can knock myself out. Did you want some?" I offer, looking down at her only half empty mug.
"Please. The last batch seems to have worked, just maybe a little too quickly."
I move to fill up our electric kettle, and silence takes hold all over again, but it has lost the peaceful note it held before as my heart has only started to calm itself down.
I'm not liking my chances of getting any sleep at all tonight.
Finally, the water boils and I pour out two cups, bringing them over to the table to sit down beside Aunt Grace, who is staring off in the distance, lost in thought.
"Maybe you should head upstairs," I suggest. She looks exhausted, and I feel compelled to make sure she's looking after herself. Even if it means sacrificing my own bed to do so.
"Oh, I'm alright. I'll get there eventually. And unlike you, I get to nap all day tomorrow if I need to. Can I ask what has you up and about in the middle of the night? Assuming this after-dark tea break isn't a regular thing for you, Miss Reilly."
I shake my head. "Not normal. It's just been a crazy day, and I don't think my body has really accepted that it's over yet."
Grace chuckles softly. "I know that feeling all too well. When you're go-go-go all the time, it can be hard to make yourself stop. I imagine with it being your last year of high school, things have gotten a little nuts for all of you. And throwing me into the mix probably hasn't done anything to help. In the morning I'll move my stuff down to the living room, give you your room back."
"No," I answer right away, even though I'd secretly love to be back
in my own bed. "It's no problem. And you know we love having you here. Getting a bonus Aunt Grace visit is the best kind of surprise."
"Even if it means having a little less time with that Rose of yours?" she asks, a hint of teasing in her voice.
"Rosie," I correct her automatically, without thinking. A smile has already started to form on my face.
"Oh, I know that look. You've fallen hard. And by the looks of it, so has she. Seeing the way you two looked at each other today," Grace pauses, pressing her lips together in her own, quiet smile, "it reminds me a bit of my first love. You two seem great together."
Love. My heart flares up again at the mention of the word. It's not something that Rosie or I have said to one another yet, but I've been thinking a lot about it. And with the way my aunt mentioned Rosie looking at me, I can't help but hope that she's been thinking about it too.
I shrug, trying to force myself to look as casual as possible. "It's still pretty new."
"Trust me. I've been around the block a time or two, I know a good thing when I see it."
If only it were that easy. My smile falters a little, and even though I force it back up again right away, my aunt notices the flicker. "What is it, love?"
"Nothing. Everything has been great." I try to push away the flicker of doubt that somehow managed to force its way in. And maybe it's the lack of sleep, but it just won't go.
"I just feel like I keep letting Rosie down. Most of the time things are great, but..."
Over the next ten minutes, our entire history tumbles out of my mouth, ungraceful and mostly incoherent. But somehow, Aunt Grace seems to understand anyway.
"How long have you and Rosie known one another?" Grace asks after a long pause once I've finished my story, leaving off after the night that Reece and John broke up.
"Technically, since we moved here. She was Reagan's friend first. But known each other well, only a few months."
"Well it sounds to me like your Rosie just hasn't quite clued in yet about what a special soul you are. You're a giver. You always have been. I remember coming to visit when you were about three or so. I was in town for your birthday and your parents were throwing you girls a big party. Another little girl who lived in the same building had to cancel at the last moment because she broke her leg. You overheard your mom on the phone talking about it, and how sad... Claire, I think her name was, was about not being able to come."
I don't remember this story at all, but as Grace continues it’s easy to picture the little apartment where my family had lived when we'd first moved to Richmond. "Despite the fact that there were ten other toddlers running all over, a giant cake, and a pile of presents for you girls, you insisted on going to see Claire to make her feel better. Your parents couldn't leave the party, so I got to keep you company as you went over to the other apartment and just watched movies for a couple of hours, long past when the party ended. Claire couldn't get up and do much, so you'd bring her toys and snacks. It was wonderful. You were wonderful. You still are. And I'm sure in time Rosie will see that you never, ever mean any harm. I'm sure Rosie understands."
"I'm pretty sure you're biased to be on team Reilly on this one, but thanks. Still, I could have handled it better. I should have called. Or texted. Or left sooner. I don't know."
"I'm getting the feeling you've been obsessing about this for a while now."
"About a week. But to be fair, I still occasionally relive the time I accidentally knocked Reece down the stairs when we were like eight. She wasn't even hurt, but pretty much every moment where I've ever hurt someone gets stored in my head to be lived over and over again. And..."
My aunt shakes her head, sighing before I can finish my thought. "Maybe it's time for you to get some sleep."
"Not just me," I answer, since I can't exactly disagree. "You should bring your tea up to bed, and get some rest. If you're going to be here for a while, you might as well get used to the time difference."
I stand up and wait to see if my aunt will follow. I'm mostly curious to see if she'll argue, and say she won't be here long as an excuse to stay up later. But she doesn't. Instead, she takes her tea and her phone, and heads up the stairs to my bedroom, leaving me alone in the kitchen to finish my own cup.
The liquid is soothing and warm, exactly what I needed. And soon, my eyes start to droop.I force myself back to the couch before I become the next Donovan girl to pass out on the kitchen table.
At least the couch is comfortable. This time around, it's easier for me to settle in. Once I close my eyes, it's almost like being upstairs in my own bed, wrapped up in my own blanket, letting my thoughts lull me to sleep so I can at least get a little rest before starting my new week.
Love. Do I love Rosie? Does Rosie love me? Could she? Or is she already starting to resent me? The questions swirl around in my mind, getting quieter and quieter until sleep finally takes me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Okay, okay, everybody just sit!" Rhiannon's voice takes over the living room as she tries for the third time to get the entire family sitting down and silent. Not exactly an easy task, but she seems extra determined today. Which is saying something for Rhiannon.
Finally, we all settle. I'm on the couch with Reagan, squished between Dad and Aunt Grace, while mom takes a chair and Reece sprawls out on the floor. There's one last, extremely appealing looking empty seat just on the other side of the coffee table, but when I try and stand up to take it, Rhiannon casts me a stern glare that makes it clear I should stay put.
She clears her throat, and her eyes wander the room, trying to find someone to land on. Is she nervous? It can be hard to tell with Rhiannon, who has always had a seed of confidence buried deep within her, encouraging her to believe that just about anything is possible. It's something I've always admired about her.
But as I study my sister, waiting for her to speak, it's obvious that she's feeling a little anxious about whatever she wants to tell us. Or show us. She's currently casting the screen of her phone to the TV at the front of the room, but she hasn't offered up any hints about what's up.
"For the last few months, I've been working on something. When I first came up with the idea, I thought it might be a good way to draw some extra attention to my college applications. But it's kind of started to take off, and I didn't want any of you to find out from someone who isn't me."
I sit up a little straighter, not sure if I'm supposed to be worried.
But it only takes me a second to calm myself down again. It's Rhi. Whatever it is, even if there's trouble, she'll figure it out. It's who she is.
"I can't take this anymore," Reagan says beside me before throwing up her hands. "Let's get this show on the road." Her voice isn't impatient, just excited.
Rhiannon's face fills the TV screen. For an instant, she's frozen in time, unmoving, letting me take in the attic background, and the way her hair brushes past her shoulders. Whatever we're seeing, it's from before the back-to-school haircut she got at the end of August.
"My name is Rhiannon Donovan. I am one of four identical sisters. Almost seventeen years ago, my sisters and I were born in a small town called Fairview." A picture of me and my sisters, all swaddled in a row of pink, fills the screen, slightly off center. "First came Reagan, then Reece, then Reilly, then me."
What comes next is a recap of our childhood, sometimes told through Rhi talking directly at the camera, sometimes through pictures of all of us and our parents. It goes over moving from Fairview to Richmond, the tv specials and coverage we got as kids, and our big return to Fairview.
It's us, as told by her.
The whole thing lasts maybe three minutes, but I can't take my eyes off it. When the video finally finishes, it snaps closed, revealing its spot embedded on a website. My eyes scan the information underneath, trying to learn as much as I can. Her channel doesn't have a cutesy name. She's labeled it simply, ‘Rhiannon Donovan.’ Not surprising. What does take me off guard is the subscriber count underneath. Five thousand.
Five thousand people are subscribed to her channel?
I look again just to be sure when my eyes stumble onto the view count for this particular video. It's almost five times that!
I'm still processing when Aunt Grace bursts into applause beside me. "Bravo, honey! Well done! That was awesome!"
My parents and sisters are still sitting in silence. Stunned. Rhiannon is watching all of us for clues about our response. I start clapping and hollering as well. I still don't know how I feel about this, but it's clear she's worked hard.
It only takes a few more seconds for everyone else to join in.
"I know this is kind of a surprise," Rhiannon starts, "but it's gotten a decent following, and I've really started to love it."
"You could have told us," Reece says, jumping up from her spot to pull Rhiannon into a hug.
"Or, you know, ask us if we were okay with this," Mom adds. "Putting your picture out there for the world to see isn't something to do lightly."
"I only used pictures that were already featured somewhere else. Newspapers, TV, whatever. I figured since you guys were okay making all of this public years ago, I should be able to do it now. The rest is just my own face."
"What about us?" Reagan asks, not quite frowning but not smiling either. "Nobody ever asked us if we wanted our faces plastered all over the internet."
"I didn't use anything recent," Rhiannon counters, looking a little uncomfortable now. "All the other episodes are just me vlogging."
"Wait," Dad says. "There's more? And what's vlogging?"
"Just talking about stuff. My day, us. Nothing personal or private," she hastens to add.
I already suspected as much. It would have been hard to get that many subscribers on one video alone.
Mom leans forward in her seat. "Show us another one. I want to make sure I have the full picture here."
Rhiannon quickly obliges, and I settle in to watch, grateful for the chance to put my thoughts together.
I don't think I mind, but it is a little weird that this has been going on for months now and I didn't even realize Rhiannon had been talking about our lives somewhere so public.
