by Ann Aguirre
I spent the next four days trying to fill the hole my mom left. And failing.
Nothing I did made my dad rouse from his perpetual, absent fog. He gave me a tired smile over the Christmas decorations and thanked me prematurely for the present I’d wrapped and tucked under the branches. It could be a rotten egg. But somehow I doubted he’d react, even if he opened the box to find one. He’d just look through me and mumble something, before going to his room to hide, to count the minutes before he could return to the lab.
The one time I’d mentioned how much he was gone lately, he’d snapped, “I’m trying to carry on our work, Edith. Can’t you understand that?”
What I understood was that he’d checked out. I was raised, right? No need for further parental supervision. They’d gone on red alert after I started dating, but at this point, I suspected my dad wouldn’t even notice if I moved in with Kian. But I couldn’t get really mad over how Dad was handling his grief when guilt played a constant drum solo against the inside of my skull. If I’d been a little smarter, more prepared, more cautious, I’d have saved her.
Or … if I’d turned down the deal, which I’d known was too good to be true, I’d be words on a headstone by now, poetry about the beauty of my soul, probably. And my mom would still be around. Yet I didn’t let myself think that way for long. Suicide wasn’t an option for me anymore. If I quit, it would mean that everyone else died for nothing.
Four p.m., Christmas Eve. And my dad still wasn’t home.
Normally, we’d be baking cookies right now. My mom had stopped setting them out for Santa years ago, but the tradition remained. My dad wouldn’t be buying the ingredients this year, though, and I knew better than to bother him about it.
As promised, Kian arrived at four thirty, dressed in well-cut trousers and a button-up shirt. His leather jacket might not be the warmest choice but he was even more gorgeous than usual. He’d clearly made an effort since he didn’t see his mom that often. I followed him out to his car, pretending I wasn’t nervous. I’d rarely been to hospitals—only to visit my great aunt and Brittany—and I’d never known anybody in rehab.
“Don’t worry,” he said, apparently reading my expression.
“What if I say something stupid? Or insensitive.”
“She’ll get over it. What’s that?” He pointed at the wrapped package in my hands.
“It seemed wrong to show up empty-handed, especially the day before Christmas, so I went out yesterday and got her a little something.”
“What?”
“A pair of slippers. I checked online to see what’s allowed in most programs.”
His green eyes kindled with a warmth that tightened my stomach, every time. “That’s amazing, thank you.” Patting his inner jacket pocket, he added, “I got her a watch, for basically the same reason.”
He led the way out to his Mustang and opened the door for me. I hopped in, restraining my anxiety. This was about as far from normal as any meet-the-parents scenario could be. Somewhere between the facility and my apartment, Kian touched my knee, telling me silently that it would be fine. Weirdly, my tension dissolved. Given his penchant for trouble, he shouldn’t be able to reassure me like that, but my nervous system was gullible, apparently.
It was snowing slightly when we pulled into the parking lot. I didn’t know what I expected, but this place was fairly nondescript, a historic building that had obviously been renovated. A brass plaque on the front read SHERBROOK HOUSE. Yeah, even the name wouldn’t tell you what they did here. Kian opened the door and stepped into a tasteful reception area. Behind, there was a bank of elevators.
“I’m here to see my mother,” he told the woman behind the desk. “Riley? I should be on the list.”
She checked her records, then handed us guest passes, which we clipped on. “Go up to the fifth floor and check in. The floor attendant will show you to the common room.”
Nodding, I thanked her and went with Kian, who was fidgeting, tugging at his shirt collar as we waited for the elevator. He offered a sheepish smile when he laced our fingers together.
“Hypocritical, I know.”
“Has it been a while?”
He nodded. “We talk on the phone sometimes. But she mostly calls when she needs to get into a new program.”
“And so here we are,” I said as the doors opened.
He was quiet in the elevator, and as I watched, his shoulders squared. I could practically see him bracing for some kind of damage, and I tensed in sympathy. My free hand tightened so the nails bit into my palm. It couldn’t be easy to watch someone you loved fail, time and again. Dashed hope must cut him up inside, until he was afraid to believe anymore.
“You okay?” I asked.
“When I see her number, I’m never sure if it’s her,” he said quietly. “Sometimes it’s neighbors, friends wanting me to know she’s strung out. And … I’m always afraid when the phone rings in the middle of the night. It’s like … I don’t even expect her to get better anymore, and I’m waiting to hear she’s finally checked out.”
“Oh, man.” I wished I could think of something better to say. He’d never opened up quite this much before, and his words made me think he must feel like he’d already lost her, along with the rest of his family. “You miss her.”
His throat worked. “Yeah. I really do.”
I held him for a few seconds, until the elevator doors opened. By the time we stepped out, he was calm and collected, striding toward the check-in desk. We signed the visitor log, showed our passes, and then let the lady inspect our gifts. She seemed relieved that we weren’t trying to give Mrs. Riley contraband. With the details sorted, she ushered us into the lounge, where a few people were already sitting with their visitors. All of the inpatients had on pajamas or some version of comfy clothes, like sweats.
Since I didn’t know how Mrs. Riley looked, I waited for Kian to head toward her. First thing I noticed, she was painfully thin with big, haunted eyes; he’d gotten the green irises from her. Her hair was dull, badly dyed an inky black that made her skin look even more sallow. Her cheekbones were pronounced, as was her chin, and her mouth was pale and chapped, raw even, as if she’d been biting at her lips. Without makeup, she looked older than I expected, deep circles beneath her eyes. Her hands were knobby, raw knuckled, with cuticles ragged from nervous picking. She reminded me of a bird, all hollow bones and ruffled feathers.
He bent and kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
God, it hurt more than I expected, hearing him say it out loud. Even if he rarely saw her, she was alive, and there was a chance she’d beat the odds this time, astonish him with an awesome recovery. An ache tightened my throat.
“You get more handsome every time I see you,” she said with what looked like a fond, if tired, smile. “Do you have a stylist or something?”
“I got your genes,” he said, which obviously pleased her, based on how she beamed.
Then Mrs. Riley turned to me. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Edie Kramer. Nice to meet you.”
For clarity, I presumed, Kian added, “My girlfriend.”
“Finally.” Her eyes took on a teasing light. “You were such a late bloomer. I’m so glad you’re here, Edie. Now you can level with me about how Kian’s really doing. He’s so evasive, especially about his job.”
Since that was the last thing I could do, I managed a crooked smile. “Actually, he’s taking time off to focus on school.”
Kian was scowling at me, as if to say, Why the hell did you tell her that? I ignored him.
“Are you okay on money?” she asked, visibly anxious.
Oh, crap. I forgot he pays for her treatments.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve got a good amount in savings and I’m looking for part-time work, something that leaves me more time to study.”
And doesn’t come with a lifetime servitude clause.
“Oh, that’s good.” Relief relaxed her shoulders. “You always were so frugal. Remember how you’d
lend money to your sister when she burned through her allowance? You had a ledger and everything. Such a little loan shark.”
He shifted, seeming not to know how to respond. During the relatively short time I’d known him, he’d never mentioned his sister. I had the sense it was an unhealed wound, a loss he couldn’t process. Quietly I reached for his hand under the table and his fingers clutched mine as if I were a rope that kept him from falling off a cliff.
“We brought presents,” I cut in, mostly to change the subject.
“Did you?” Mrs. Riley seemed honestly delighted. “How sweet! And you’re so pretty too. I have a good feeling about you.”
Despite a rocky few years, her demeanor showed glimpses of the grace she must’ve exuded when she was still a socialite. I could picture her in better clothes with hair and makeup done just so, wearing a designer dress and holding a flute of expensive champagne while gossiping with moneyed guests. In fact, she could still fit in among the Blackbriar parents. I figured a bunch of them had been to rehab.
“Thanks.” Producing the gift, I offered it to her with a smile.
She wasted no time in tearing into her package and she appeared pleased with the lavender slippers I’d bought, just simple ballet-style ones but since I’d never met the woman, I had no idea of her tastes. I’d gotten a medium, hoping for the best. She pulled off the somewhat worn ones she had on and slipped into them right away. Wriggling her toes, she beamed at me.
“With socks on, they fit beautifully. Thank you, Edie.”
I took that to mean they were a little big, but she was nice enough not to complain. “You’re welcome.”
Then she unwrapped Kian’s present. She had tears in her eyes when he fastened the dainty bracelet watch on her wrist. Leaning forward, she pressed a trembling hand to his cheek, and I had to look away. My chest hurts. For multiple reasons, this was turning out to be a lot harder than I anticipated.
The hour passed quickly, though. Too soon, the other visitors packed up, giving hugs and saying Merry Christmas for the last time. Mrs. Riley wasn’t allowed a cell phone, so we couldn’t offer to call her tomorrow. She hugged me, which startled me, but I went with it.
The woman held on a little longer than was comfortable, whispering, “You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?”
I’m trying. I imagined facing this broken woman to tell her she’d lost her son—the only person she had left in the world—and every muscle in my body locked in denial. No way. She’s barely coping as it is. For her that would be the end.
“Okay,” I said.
Kian gave us a weird look as I hurried past, alarmed in every possible way. I knew him; there was no way he’d bring up such a convoluted issue with her. So she’d just get blindsided in four and a half months or whatever. I steadied my breathing.
That won’t happen. I’ll figure something out.
“You ready?” Kian asked, once he finished saying good-bye.
“Yeah.”
There was a line downstairs to turn in the passes and reclaim our IDs. I didn’t say anything until after we got in the car and had been driving for a while. Kian broke the silence first, letting out a long sigh.
“She looks pretty fragile, huh?”
I nodded.
“For the last eight years, I’ve felt like I’m the parent. And I’m tired. But…”
“You can’t give up. I love that about you.” Though I didn’t say so, I wished he had that kind of determination when it came to his own self-preservation.
He smiled, reaching for my hand. The snow had accumulated a little while we were inside, dusting the trees and sidewalks. Passing cars had the wipers on and the street was dark with melting snowflakes. I put on the radio, wondering if I’d ever feel better. Between my mom, the dead Teflon crew, and the sword of Damocles hanging over Kian’s head, fear felt like a permanent fixture, needles constantly digging into my spine.
Half an hour later, he pulled up in front of my building. “What time should I come over tomorrow?”
“Noon?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
I didn’t invite him inside because I saw my dad shuffling up the sidewalk toward us. He wasn’t dressed for the weather, wearing only an old tweed jacket my mother had begged him to throw away years ago. His shirt had stains on the front, and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved in at least a week. His beard was more gray than brown, something I never noticed before.
Kian kissed me quickly, then I climbed out of the car. He waited until I went in before pulling away. Dad followed a couple of minutes later. I hugged him and was alarmed to feel how skinny he’d already gotten. He’d always leaned more toward reedy than Mom or me, but I could tell he hadn’t been eating during work hours. Shit, it was all I could do to make him have dinner after he got home.
“What did you have for lunch?” I asked.
He made a vague gesture that was supposed to reassure me. “One of the grad students brought me a sandwich. I’m fine.”
That doesn’t mean you ate it.
“You’re not. Promise me you won’t go to work tomorrow.”
At first he gave me a blank look, edged in frustration. “Why—oh.”
“It’s Christmas Day. Kian’s coming. And I need you to help, or all the groceries I bought a few days ago will be ruined.”
He exhaled slowly, and it was like watching a light come on in his head. “Right. I guess I’m not doing very well, huh?”
Finally. I was afraid the fog would never lift.
“I want you to be present when you’re here. I still need you.” Since I wasn’t used to saying stuff like that, it was hard, and the words came out choky.
“Okay.” Awkwardly, Dad reached for me, offering a one-armed hug. “I promise. We just need some time to figure out how the pieces fit now.”
Badly, I thought. You only see me half the time.
Still, I was relieved he’d be around tomorrow. Maybe, if we tried really hard, we could coax a smile out of him. The new apartment came with a TV and I could hook up my laptop for a holiday movie marathon. Given his status as a classic-movie nerd, Kian probably adored It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. I’d seen both—didn’t love them—but I was willing to sit through them if Kian and Dad wanted to.
I chilled with my dad while he paged through a scientific journal. But an hour later, he murmured, “We should get some sleep, if we’re making a feast tomorrow.”
It was eight o’clock.
But I couldn’t force him to talk to me. Maybe the progress I’d made was as much as I could hope for so soon. Tired, I trudged down the hall to wash my face and brush my teeth. My room was still devoid of personality, most of my things still boxed up in the closet. This didn’t feel like somewhere I actually lived, more that I was killing time.
When I popped my laptop open, I had a message from Vi waiting. She was still online, so I pinged her for a chat. As usual, her room was a mess and beyond her closed door, I could hear her mom yelling at Vi’s brother. Then her dad rumbled something while she made an OMG face.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I envy you the noise, actually.”
“Oh. Yeah, I bet.” She changed the subject swiftly, probably guessing I didn’t want to go farther down that road. “Did you get my package?”
“Not yet.”
“Crap. It’s probably hung up in the Christmas mail rush.”
“Thanks for thinking of me. I forgot to send you anything.” Yeah, I’m definitely winning the cruddy friend award this year.
“I didn’t expect you to. Merry Christmas, Edie.”
“Thanks. Give my best to your family.”
“Oh, if your invitation still stands, I’m talking to my parents about coming to see you. Maybe for a few days during spring break?”
Since I’d mentioned that a while ago, long before the supernatural shit hit the fan, it was probably a terrible idea for all the reasons. But she seemed so bright and h
opeful that I couldn’t say no. Maybe her parents would do that for me. I’d used a favor to protect her, so Wedderburn should honor the deal.
“I’d love to see you,” I said honestly. “I miss you.”
“Me too.”
Just then I heard Vi’s mom yell, “Are you coming down to wrap presents or not?”
Visibly exasperated, she shouted back, “Give me a minute!”
“It’s fine. Go do family stuff.”
“Sorry. We all have to wrap junk for the relatives. Grandparents, cousins, nieces, whatever. God, it’s such a pain.”
Vi might think so, but if it went away, if her house got quiet, I bet she’d feel differently. “Say hi to everyone for me.”
“No problem.” With that, she signed off.
There was no word from Ryu, but it hadn’t been long enough since we talked for me to worry about him. That left me sitting in my room, wishing Kian could pop in secretly like he used to. But some things couldn’t be undone.
In my darkest moments, I wondered if it would’ve been better for everyone if I’d stuck with the original plan … and jumped off the bridge.
MONSTER’S BALL
Christmas wasn’t bad.
With my dad checked in, we made enough food for the three of us and it wasn’t depressing or lame like Thanksgiving. There was ham, mashed potatoes, and green beans—not a feast—but better than the frozen junk we’d been eating since my mom’s funeral. Afterward, we exchanged gifts. I was astonished my father remembered to buy me anything, even a bookstore gift card. He seemed to like the blue scarf I got him.
Kian offered me a small box. I’d guessed right when I speculated he’d gone for jewelry. Excitement flooded through me as I peeled away the shiny paper, revealing a delicate silver chain threading through the center of an infinity symbol. Instinctively I curled my right hand, fighting the urge to check whether the sigil on my inner wrist was hidden. Casting a glance at my dad, I was reassured to see that he was a reading a magazine. I had mixed feelings about the gift, considering what it represented.
He could probably tell that because he leaned forward to explain, “That’s not supposed to represent interminable servitude. I could talk geometry and calculus, add in topology and Möbius transformations, then move on to fractals and the Koch snowflake, but in reality, it’s much simpler. It just means ‘endless.’ And that’s us, Edie. So this necklace, it’s how I feel about you.”
