When the doorbell rings, I glance down at my penguin-printed pajamas, and consider ignoring it. But the likelihood that it’s Carter, who always forgets his keys, is very high, so I begrudgingly drag myself off of the sofa.
I barely get the door halfway open before Tessa squeezes her way inside. Crap.
She’s dancing around like a fool in her heavy pea-coat.
“Oh my goodness, it is freezing out there!” she says, pulling off her matching hat and gloves.
“Hey, come on in,” I say, with weighty sarcasm.
“Long time no see,” she says. She helps herself to a barstool at the kitchen island.
Not even close to long enough, cow.
I watch her for a moment in silence. Her posture is perfect in the barstool, but I can tell she’s nervous by the way she fidgets with the dial on her massive white watch.
“New watch?” I ask.
Tessa’s face brightens. “Yes! Early Christmas present from my mom. It’s ceramic, see? Only seven-hundred-fifty dollars!”
Thankfully, the timer finally goes off, saving me from having to stare blankly at her, or have another materialistic discussion.
I pull the casserole dish out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool. I’m trying to come up with a way to figure out what the hell she wants without having to actually talk to her. Sadly, I can’t come up with anything smooth.
She unbuttons her coat, revealing a t-shirt that reads, Put Christ Back in Christmas.
“What are you doing here, Tess?” I deadpan.
Her brow furrows. “Um, I thought we could talk.”
“Were you fed paint chips as a child? What in the world is it that you think we have to talk about?” I snap.
She purses her cherry lips and drops her shoulders.
“Um, for starters, we’ve been friends for like how many years?” She taps her fingers on the counter top one-by-one like she’s adding them up.
“Don’t bother counting, it doesn’t matter how long. You haven’t acted like a friend lately.”
She’s already pulling her gloves on by the time I finish my sentence.
“Look, I just came here to try to apologize. If I knew you were going to go all Anna Nicole on us, I obviously wouldn’t have asked Ben out. I mean, come on, dramatic much?” She pulls her cashmere hat down over her ears.
“Good, looks like you’re all set to leave,” I say.
I’m back on the sofa, pudding in hand before I even hear the door slam behind her.
Fa La La La La La La La La..
“Who was that leaving?” Carter’s voice booms as he walks in the door. I tilt my head back on the edge of the sofa to look at him.
“That was Tessa, you idiot.”
He lets out an obnoxious whistle. “Tessa? Seriously? Whoa, she got—”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’d put it in her butt,” he says.
“Carter MacPherson, you’re a vile human being. That’s disgusting.”
“What? I would. Stuck-up looking girl like that? Oh hell yeah. She’s all prim and proper, but she could marry a Senator later on, and I’d still be able to say that I—”
“Seriously, quit,” I cut him off.
“What in the world are you eating?” Carter asks.
I’m slumped down deep into the couch cushion with the entire casserole dish balanced on my stomach.
“Chocolate bread pudding, with bacon glaze. I made it, you want?” I offer up a gargantuan, overflowing spoonful.
“Uh, negatory. So, trying to off yourself wasn’t enough? Now you’re gonna give yourself heart disease and diabetes?”
My brother is the male clone of me. Not just the matching hazel eyes and chocolate hair, but he’s also my partner-in-snark.
“Christ, I didn’t try to kill myself, it was an accident.”
He plops down beside me on the sofa.
“Seriously, put that away.” He takes the pudding off of my lap. “Then what is going on with you, Quinnlette?”
I cringe. “Ugh, don’t call me that.” I glance around the room, looking for a reason to escape.
“Quinn,” Carter says firmly.
His tone makes me squirm, since I realize I’m not getting out of talking to him.
“I don’t know how to explain it.” I dust the crumbs off of my lap on to the floor.
“Mom said something about some guy? Was it that guy I met at the start of summer?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “That’s not it. Or that’s not all of it.”
He inhales deeply and raises his eyebrows. “You know, you don’t have to be miserable just because Mom has chosen to be.”
“It’s not that easy. You just don’t understand.” Only, that’s not really true. If anyone does understand me, it’s Carter. He lived through my identical childhood, right alongside me. I just never saw it affect him the way it had with me. He never acted out. He had goals and plans, and he went after them. He managed to escape this house unscathed. Why couldn’t I do that?
“Please. Why do you think I turned down a free ride to the University of Georgia? Because I’d rather bust my ass working two jobs and pay for school myself than stay here, sucked into all of this crazy. I don’t get it, my ass.”
I weigh this over. “Yeah, but you’re so damn normal. You’re so much better than me.”
“Ah, Quinnlette, I blocked it out. Just like you’ve tried to do. Sure, I played by their rules a little better than you, but it was never easy.”
I bite my bottom lip. “I’m exactly like her though, I see it. How can I let people in, knowing I’m just going to end up driving them away just like she does?” The guilt over talking about my mom like this crushes me, but I just can’t stop the words from flowing.
“You’re not her. You don’t have to let yourself become her. You’re smarter and better than that.”
“How the hell am I supposed to prevent it?”
He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Because genetics don’t determine who we become, Quinn. It’s the choices we make for ourselves that make us who we are, not the crazy that we come from.” He smiles and reaches for the bread pudding.
“By the way, this is really freakin’ good,” he says, while shoveling another heaping spoonful into his mouth.
“Thanks.”
“What kind of bread is this?” he asks, poking at the buttery-bacony-custardy goodness.
“Challah.”
“Wait, you used Challah bread and then covered it in pork sauce? There is something seriously wrong with that.”
I laugh. “Hey, you said it was good!”
The room is twinkling in that warm and magical way only Christmas can achieve. I don’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed. This moment, sitting here talking with my brother is priceless. Even with all of the pain that it took to get here.
“You ever consider culinary school? You could come back to Cali and stay with me. There are some amazing cooking schools there.”
The truth is, I really never had thought about it. I’d been so preoccupied with not committing to a future in any aspect, that I hadn’t even let myself dream. How amazing would it be to train as a chef and maybe open my own restaurant? But as quickly as the excitement rises, I’m brought crashing back down to reality equally as fast.
“What about Mason? If I leave, it’ll just be him here alone to deal with all of this.”
“Quinn, that’s really not your burden to carry. You have got to start living for yourself.”
“I’m afraid he already hates me.”
Carter scrapes the bottom of the dish clean with the spoon.
“The thing about Mason is that he’s always been a spoiled brat. He’s my brother, and I love him, but he has been the sheltered, golden-child, Quinn. You know that. You’ve protected him as long as you can. And someday, he’ll see things for how they really are, and understand.”
“Dad is having an affair,” I blurt out. I’m looking down at my lap, but allo
w myself a tiny glance up out of the corner of my eye to gauge Carter’s reaction. His expression gives nothing away. He was right; he’s just as good at hiding his emotions as I am.
“I’m not surprised.” He doesn’t look it.
“With Mena Lombardo.”
“No shit,” he says. “She is like—”
“Slutty?” I volunteer.
He stretches his arms out in front of him, laces his fingers and laughs. “Something like that, yeah.”
“I mean, how the hell do they expect us to turn out okay when they pull stuff like this? So what, my choices are either be a zombie mental patient or an adulterous prick?”
He shakes his head. “You can’t do that, Quinn. I get that you want to blame Mom and Dad for everything, but it does absolutely no good. You have got to let go of all of that resentment, or it’s going to eat you alive.”
“When did you get so damn smart?”
He chuckles. “When I got away from all of you jack-wagons.”
I pull back my fist and punch him in the arm. He doesn’t flinch, but my hand immediately stings.
“But seriously, Quinnlette, I may not be around much, but you’re my sister and I love you. So, no more trying to off yourself, okay?”
“Oh, for the love of all that is holy. I. Did. Not. Try. To. Kill. Myself!” I snip each word at him and simultaneously punch him with each one.
“Speaking of love—”
“Oh, gripes, don’t start.” My hands fly to my face to cover the inevitable blush.
He pulls me in and squeezes my shoulders.
“All I’m gonna say is, there may be a hole in your heart right now, Quinnlette, but there isn’t a hole in the entire world. You can’t just stop living because you’re hurting.”
“Where’ve you been?” Mom asks me. I hang my keys on the hook and keep my back turned to her.
“I was just meeting with Claire,” I answer. It’s true. I really had been at my appointment with the hospital’s shrink. I just choose to leave out the part about how afterwards, I drove around aimlessly so I didn’t have to go straight home.
I can’t look at my mom. It’s starting to sink in how it could be so easy for her to rewrite the history of our family. The guilt of the truth can sometimes eat you alive. It’s the choices we make for ourselves that make us who we are…
I’d been replaying Carter’s words in my mind for a week now. He’s right of course. I’d been letting my fear of turning out like Mom dictate my life instead of just living it. And, somehow, by doing that I’d become closer to being like her than I ever wanted to be. Still, I’ve made so many mistakes I don’t even know where to start fixing everything.
God, I miss Ben. Things just shouldn’t be like this. This wasn’t at all the Christmas that I had envisioned earlier in the year. But still, Mom and Dad have managed not to fight for at least three days and Mason will be getting everything his little heart desires under the Christmas tree, so all is right in his world.
“How was it?” she asks.
I have no choice but to turn and face her. I haven’t looked her in the eye since I got home from the hospital. She hasn’t yelled at me, or even confronted me about what I did. I honestly think it would be easier if she did. I know how to handle her screaming and acting all insane, I don’t know how to deal with her when she is rational.
Mom is already in her night-clothes, her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back. She looks calm for once. Normal.
“Wasn’t so bad, I guess,” I say.
“Good,” she nods. “Carter has been looking for you. I think he’s out on the deck. Why I don’t know, it is cold as anything outside tonight.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I pick at my Alpine Snow polish as I watch her scoop her tea bag out of her cup with a spoon and then toss it in the garbage can. I’m about to lose my chance. If I’m going to speak up, I need to do it now. I swallow once more to try and dislodge the burning lump in my throat. It feels like I have something going down the wrong pipe.
“Mom?” My eyes are already watering, great. I’m turning into such a damn emotional nitwit since I’ve been home.
She turns and faces me, and I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I totally freeze. My apology is caught in my throat like under chewed food. Mom continues to stare back at me, waiting.
“I just…”
She sets her tea cup down on the counter and walks toward me. She wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close to her. I sniffle and I can smell her Coco by Chanel perfume. She has worn the same scent since I was a kid, and as the smell wafts around me, and she squeezes my shoulders, I feel no older than ten all over again.
“I know,” she says, without me having to continue.
“But I…” I want to tell her I’m sorry for being a disappointment and I know now she isn’t directly responsible for every bad thing that has ever happened to me. That I believe that most of the time, she did try her best. I want to tell her about my dad’s affair and that she’s too good for him. I want to tell her I love her, even though I’ve never shown it right. But, like an idiot, I can’t find the words.
She rubs my arm softly before letting go of me.
“Quinn, don’t make your life harder than it needs to be,” she says, simply. She kisses the top of my head and then leaves me standing in the kitchen alone. This is the closest I have been to my mom in years.
“Was wondering where you were,” Carter says. He hands me a mug, and I curl up in the chair across from him.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask. It is barely teetering above freezing outside and my lounge pants and hoodie are doing a less than adequate job of protecting me from the frigid breeze when it kicks up.
“Quit being such a baby, it’s not that cold.”
I put the mug to my lips and take a small sip. “Maybe not, but this used-to-be-hot chocolate is.” I lick my lips and touch my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “What else is in here? Rum?”
Carter nods. “Mom gone to bed?”
“Yeah, I just talked to her … sorta…” My teeth chatter together. “Seriously, what are we doing out here?”
“Just relax, enjoy it. Weather like this is good for clearing your head.”
“Whatever you say, you damn hippie,” I say with a laugh.
I pull my arms and legs inside my sweater and try to relax. The crisp air bites at my nose and I crinkle it up from the burn. I rock back and forth gently in the chair just to keep moving.
Carter and I sit in near silence. The lukewarm beverage does little to combat the cold or calm the chattering of my teeth, even with the shot of dark rum. But maybe Carter was actually on to something. Sitting out here under the ultra-bright stars, shivering with each gust of wind, the deck no longer feels like the depressing, lonely place it had become since Ben and I had broken up. The chills I have only make everything seem so much more real. And maybe that is exactly what I have been running from.
Ben’s forgiveness and acceptance of me and my faults scared the shit out of me. It meant he really did love me, and that I was going to lose control over my closely guarded feelings. But at the same time, it’s what I wanted the most, an escape from the phoniness of my home life. I was desperate for someone to really get me. Not only that, but to still love me, even at my worst. Ben did that, and so I ran from him.
“Got something for you.” Carter’s voice snaps me out of my daze.
He tosses a manila envelope onto my bed.
“What’s this?” I ask, pulling my legs under me.
“Open it, spaz.” He plops down onto the end of my bed.
My hands sweat as I grab the envelope and peek inside.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask. I pull out a brochure for Le Cordon Bleu School of Culinary Arts.
“Um, I’m going to go with apply?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, right.”
“Why not, Quinnlette? You’re already an awesome cook, why no
t just take the next step?”
“I don’t know,” I say, tugging on the chain around my neck. “It’s really just a hobby.”
“Do you love doing it? I mean, I’m going to school to be an accountant. Not because I’m passionate about doing people’s taxes, but because I’m good at it—”
“Vomit,” I groan.
Carter laughs. “The point being, if I was half as good at something I loved the way you are with cooking, I’d chase after it at full speed.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.
“And don’t give me anymore crap about having to stay here for Mason. I left, and you deserve to go, too. Go on and live your life, Quinn. Full speed – no looking back,” he says.
All I can do is give him a hesitant nod. He stands up and ruffles my hair as if I’m eight again.
“And for the love of God, hurry up and get dressed. I’m so freakin’ starving and I sure as hell don’t want everyone to have to sit around all night waiting on you.”
“Oh, shut up!” I fling a pillow in his direction, which of course, he easily dodges.
My mom stops in the doorway and reflexively, my muscles tense up, and my posture becomes stiff.
“You about ready, Quinn?” she asks. We’re going to a Christmas Eve party at Mr. Taylor’s house.
“Yeah, give me twenty,” I say.
She nods and gives me half a smile before looking Carter up and down, taking in his Dickies, plaid shirt, and raggedy Converse.
“You are not wearing that, Carter,” she says.
“Pick your battles, Ma,” he says, while patting her on the shoulder.
The door closes behind them and I start toward my closet. I have just started flipping through the section I have set aside for dresses, when my door opens again and Carter peaks his head in.
“Seriously, your left arm will be the first thing I eat,” he says.
I haven’t laughed so hard in a long, long time.
“Hey stranger,” Shayna says. I jump back when I hear her voice; I’d snuck in here to be alone. “Holy shit, it’s a Christmas miracle! Both of us are hiding out at another party.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask. She’s leaning back in one of the two dark, leather recliners. I take a seat in the other one.
Risk the Fall Page 33
