The Remaining Sister

by Leanne Davis

  While eating breakfast, Chloe asked Chet if it were okay if she stayed at his place for a while. He said yes without any questions like why, or how long? He wasn’t even curious to know what she envisioned happening from this. He didn’t hesitate either, but just said yes. Chloe reveled in it. She asked him to stop by her house so she could grab some stuff, so he pulled into her driveway, turned his car off, and followed her inside. Waiting in her living room, Chet was silent as she gathered some things from her bedroom and put them into a bag before using a smaller one for all of her grooming needs. Without any comment, Chet took the bags from her and stowed them in his car. Sparing neither a word nor a startled glance, Chet resumed his neutral face again. It might have annoyed her if she were trying to gauge how he felt about something, especially the good things. But when she was worried or unsure of how he felt, she was glad he didn’t show any anger or even flinch. Nothing. Nada. He followed her out and that was that.

  “Do you have any preference as to where I set this stuff?” she asked when she first walked into his confined space with all her gear.

  He shrugged and said, “No.” Just no. Without any reassurances or waffling or panicked looks of discomfort. She nodded, deciding she’d take his word for it. He was so cut-and-dried. She believed he’d tell her if he minded or had any misgivings before explaining exactly what they were.

  Hiding safely in his small bungalow, she felt as if she dropped off the face of the earth. She gazed out over the natural views through the back windows. Only the front door faced out towards the road and driveway. Further off lived the owners of the land and the cabin. Chloe spent her days pretending there was no outside world. She walked the trails along the river. The beach wasn’t much of one, but a path led through the trees to a lush, grassy land that rimmed the river. The views were breathtaking. The huge trees absorbed most of the noise from the road traffic, but the river had plenty of boat traffic so Chloe never felt cut off from the world.

  She watched the numerous kite-surfers executing their elaborate jumps and speedy surface runs throughout the afternoon and evenings. All day, barges floated up and down the river. There were various types of boats to see. Some were on their way to the dam, where they planned to use the locks to go further upriver. Some were headed to the Snake River, via the locks and into Idaho. She watched fishermen, water-skiers, and happy people who were out enjoying the nice weather and water in their personal watercrafts. Chloe grew up there, and often passed the river as she drove around town, going up and down the coastline towards Portland and back. It wasn’t all that exotic to her. But now it took on a new meaning. It was a challenge for her to find a way to get through each day. So having an unscheduled respite was a luxury. Tucking herself away from all that was familiar to her, she somehow found the will and energy to survive. She found the strength to not drown herself in pills that only numbed her pain without removing it. This was her best effort at dealing with it all. She cried a lot. She thought a lot too. She remembered things she hadn’t thought of in years. Wandering around, doing nothing, she often stared outside and hours passed by without her being aware of it. At other times, the minutes dragged on like hours. But being at Chet’s was different and unfamiliar so there was no guilt by association to her sister and family.

  Her parents didn’t even call her. She told them she wanted to take some time off and planned to stay with a friend and they eagerly agreed. Okay. Sure. Go ahead. They didn’t ask for one detail. Like who her friend was or what she was doing or for how long. They didn’t even ask if she were okay. She dutifully checked in and asked them though. She couldn’t muster the strength to see them, however. She relied on Ryder for that and begged him to. Of course, he did, after reassuring her to take all the time she needed. When she claimed she would be staying with a friend from school, he didn’t press for details. He obliged her wishes and took care of her parents, every single day, as she should have done. But she just couldn’t.

  Some days, Chloe felt like a ghost and she didn’t bother to get dressed or shower. On others, she managed to wear loose, lounging clothes. And rarely did she put anything on that resembled the old her. That part of her identity was forgotten. Her studious attention to makeup, hair, and fashion were deeply ingrained in her, and something she had always prided herself in. Not so much anymore. Her eyes remained swollen and pink from crying. Tears became a frequent companion now, appearing at all times of the day, and without warning or explanation. She felt like she were dripping in tears. The convulsing tears were physically painful and sapped her emotional energy. She could only endure those episodes and try to expunge the thoughts that led to them. She resented those soul-gutting crying jags because she couldn’t control or stop them. She stopped being surprised if she felt skinny tracks of tears streaming down her face when she wasn’t even aware she was crying. Many things managed to set her off. Yet she was never entirely sure what or why. A thought. A song. A commercial on TV, peculiar things that reminded her of Ebony.

  And as for the stranger with whom she lived as she walked around like a zombie or cried hysterically, rocking and choking on her sobs before staring at the TV for ten hours, what did Chet do? Nothing. He went on about his life. He went to bed and got up and worked on the days he was scheduled. He bought groceries and fixed dinners and breakfasts, leaving the meals for her when he had to work. Although she was absent, Chet’s face was still familiar at her establishment, her business. The irony of that sometimes tickled her and made her laugh. They never discussed the topic. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. She didn’t care either. Not in the least. The only way her café affected her now was in Chet’s routine and the hours when he had to work.

  During all of this, Chet cared for her. He simply cared for her. In her calmer moments, when she felt a smidgeon like herself, she realized that. He took care of her basic physical needs like food and shelter. He kept the place clean too, from her dishes to her laundry. He did her freaking laundry. Without mentioning a word about it. He didn’t give her ambiguous looks that might have suggested she should get her shit together because she was bothering him. Not at all. He just did what he did without comment. He spoke to her when she initiated conversation, and left her alone when she didn’t. She’d never been around anyone like him before. He could remain quiet for hours and hours on end. With only a few places to go in his home, he often painted. She silently watched him or stared off toward his subjects. He had no trouble in letting her be. Yet he was always there for her. He saw to all of her physical comforts and didn’t expect a word of thanks or even an acknowledgment. When she did come out of her comatose-like state, which occasionally happened, she always thanked him but knew he deserved so much more.

  She wasn’t wrong. She distinctly got the feeling that he liked her presence. He didn’t seem to mind even though he was a complete loner, which she quickly discovered. And yet, whatever emotional state she might have been in, from feeling okay to feeling really, really bad, he just accepted her. He had no problem leaving her alone and seemed to take his cue from her moods. He always knew how much to engage her and what to do for her. Sometimes, he held her at night. The nights were always the hardest for her, and the times when she felt the loneliest, and the most lost and vulnerable. She liked the way he made her feel. She realized that anything can happen at any time to anyone. She wasn’t used to thoughts like that. Not at all. She didn’t understand until then that her life was so beyond her control. She had a lingering fear, a vulnerability that made her feel unsafe and alone all the time. His solid warmth in holding her alleviated both anxieties.

  Of course, there was sex too. Not every time, but occasionally, it was the one thing she really experienced, the fulfillment of a desire to be held and warm and alive. Sometimes, she felt so numb inside, it scared her, and having sex reminded her she was still existing and functioning as a real woman should. And Chet let her exist with very little commentary. It was a gift unlike any other she could imagine. And yet she sensed none of
it was really a hardship for him.

  His effortless way of having her there and dealing with her without questioning it was wonderful for her. She did not fail to notice their developing relationship, which, although a respite and comfort to her, was also kind of unique. Not in a bad way. Or a good one. But it was different in the way that Chet responded to her.

  “I saw my mom today.” They were lying in his bed together. She was wrapped in his arms, with her head resting against his chest. She quickly grew used to the way his body felt against hers. She was starting to love how small she felt in his arms and how protective he seemed toward her. It was dark outside and she hadn’t spoken in a while.

  His tone was sleepy when he answered, “And?”

  Somehow, his one-word, terse answer made her smile. Never any who, or what, or where, or when, or why with Chet. She considered herself lucky that he even grunted out that reply. She noticed that several times in conversations he didn’t respond. She had to ask if he heard her, and usually, the answer was yes, of course. That was inevitably followed by a scowl before she snapped, “Then answer me.” She tried to explain that she needed to hear him talk or nod or smile or grunt even. Something that would let her know he was listening and heard her. Otherwise, it was like talking to a wall.

  Stone-faced, he nodded and said, “Okay.”

  From that day forward, he tried to do just that. Perhaps it was peculiar, but also strangely good. Anything she pointed out or asked for, was instantly addressed by Chet.

  “Mom doesn’t even seem to notice I’m not around anymore, not even in town. She hasn’t even asked where I am. Or if I’m okay. I ask about her health every time we speak. She tells me Dad has been staying in bed a lot. She’s got the opposite problem and can’t sleep. But she doesn’t ask me how I am.”

  Silence. She kicked her foot into his calf. He grunted. “That my cue?” he replied, his tone witty and dry. He never failed to make her smile when nothing else could or would.

  “Yes. Try to act horrified. Shouldn’t she care or at least notice that her only remaining daughter has all but disappeared? I could be suicidal, you know. Does she think my twin stood alone and had no clone? Have I become invisible?”

  “But you’re not,” Chet stated. He rarely asked since he seemed to have a rather clear picture of her, and a pretty decent grip on how she felt as well as functioned. He had a freaky, hyper sense of radar when it came to his observations. Noting every small detail in everything around him, it seemed especially heightened when he was with her. Whatever his interest in her was, she knew it ran deep and true.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “They’re hurting too, Chloe. They just can’t be the parents they once were right now, just as you can’t be the old Chloe.”

  “They could ask about me occasionally, maybe just once.”

  He squeezed her. “Yes. They could ask about you just once.”

  She tilted her head up to see his face. “I think I should go back to the café. I can’t keep hiding out here. It can’t possibly be good for me. Or you.”

  His gaze remained neutral as he said, “I’m fine. You don’t have to do anything on account of me.”

  For the first time in a month, she asked, “How is it going?”

  “The café?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still there. Still serving plates of food.”

  She laughed. “I should go in and at least make an appearance.”

  “Do you think you’re ready yet? Considering—”

  “My last attempt? I think I have accepted that Tara is there and now I can handle it.”

  “Well, it’s yours. You should do whatever you think you’re ready for.”

  She flipped all the way over. “How come you tolerated me just staying here like this?”

  His gaze held hers. “I liked you since the first time I saw you.”

  “You were attracted to me, you mean?”

  “Yes. But I liked you. Your easy-going smile and effortless manner with people. Something very attractive and not within my realm of talent or abilities, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I might have said that before. But with me? Whatever you do seems to be working.”

  “I listen.”

  “Yeah.” She touched his cheek. “You listen and comprehend what I say, without any demands or judgments and I feel heard. It’s the strangest damn thing. This must have been torture for you?”

  “No.”

  She hid her smile of half amusement, half frustration. She usually insisted on having more from him. More insight. More words. More descriptions. More clarification. But always, he answered only what she asked.

  “Explain what no means. Humor me.”

  “No means I told you, from the start that you could stay here for however long you needed to and that’s exactly what you did. It wasn’t any surprise. I was at the funeral.”

  “I think you might have actually saved my sanity. I worry, though, that I’m using you. Once I’m better and stronger, I’ll be done. How real can this be? Especially after how it started?” She shook her head, casting her eyes downwards. “Honestly? I can’t believe I even say things like that out loud to you.”

  “Then I guess I served a purpose and you just needed me for this.”

  “But that’s not fair. Not to you.”

  “I don’t believe it’s the case.” His tone was clear, even and confident. She almost persuaded herself she wasn’t doing that at seeing his conviction. Shouldn’t she have already known what she was doing and feeling? Maybe, but she didn’t. And she was honest with him about that. There were many things she failed at, or neglected or avoided of late, but there was one thing she could claim: her honesty with Chet. Complete, right down to her gut, honesty. Which was weird because she had barely known him when this all started.

  “And if it is?”

  “Then I deal with it. What else would there be to do?”

  Yes, indeed. Always first with the logic.

  She took in a huge breath, sniffing his skin. He always smelled clean and warm but with something more. It could have been the soap or whatever medium he painted in, but it never failed to comfort her because it was so distinctly Chet. “I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone, except Ebony know me as well as you do, or see me in the ways you have.”

  “What ways?” his tone was deeper than usual. She popped her head up. Did she detect a tone of emotion? Was that his reaction? It was strange and new for him.

  “Down and dirty. I mean, you’ve seen me when I’m literally dirty. From my hair to my fingernails. And also emotionally dirty by acting lazy and spoiled. Crying and carrying on when I should have been doing anything but. You’ve witnessed me at my worst and my most honest self. No pretenses. No attempts to conceal anything about me. You’ve seen me when I neglected how I appeared physically, emotionally and even in my behavior. I’ve been terrible company to be around, and yet you’ve done nothing but stay with me and help me. You never experienced me when I wasn’t like this. Why would you willingly dive into this mess? Because that’s what I’ve become and will remain in the near future.”

  “I already told you. I like you. I wanted to sleep with you. This just happened. I don’t change my mind about people because the circumstances change. And I hate anything fake. I don’t need you acting your best before I want to be with you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She kissed his chest. He rubbed her tangled hair.

  “You can’t be sorry for the circumstances you didn’t create.”

  “No, I’m sorry I never saw you before the day my sister’s murdered body was found. I’m sorry it took that for me to actually see you.”

  He chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to be noticed. Remember? I thought you were fucking Ryder and didn’t want—”

  She kicked him again, gently, but firmly. He caught her hand in his. “Sorry. Sleeping with Ryder.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know how I’d have survived all of this without you. The biggest surprise is
before this, I didn’t even know you.”

  “Well, it kind of threw us in the deep end and we both had to figure it out fast before we sunk. And I think, so far, we’ve figured it out together pretty well.”

  Their mouths met along with their bodies in a soft, easy, slow lovemaking. With their arms tightly wrapped around each other’s torso, their bodies joined in a gradual, languid connection that she felt in her heart as much as her body.

  ****

  Chloe waited another week before she decided she would go back to work. She needed to do the paperwork, and get a clear picture of what transpired during her absence. Her decision made, she suddenly grew anxious to return to the café. How was the payroll being done? Who did it? No one ever signed the checks but her. It was the reason she rarely left town or took a vacation. Who covered the weekly inventory? Who maintained the relations with the local farmer that supplied the beef? Or the wholesaler that supplied chicken? And what about the produce? The list went on. Chloe started to panic as she fully comprehended how long it had been since she was there and how much she missed.