Authors: Liz Reinhardt
Chapter Eighteen
I’m a planner by nature.
I like to have direction, to have everything lined up and accounted for. It’s one of the things that Georgia and I have always bonded over. She loves a good plan as much as I do. She loves logic.
She also has a big, huge, emotional heart. And it tends to get in the way of her best laid plans. But nothing can realign her universe like a neatly made list to check off or a precisely filled in day planner.
She might get pregnant by a married guy out of the blue. But once the craziness of her affair settled, her every thought was directed towards getting the nursery decorated, daycare planned, savings set up, living situation arranged. She knows exactly what it means to captain her own ship. Georgia know how to make up for all the time she’s screwed up.
Which is why she finally tells my mother—gently—that she’s heading back to her own apartment, at least for a while. Until she has a better plan. I find her in her calm living room when I arrive, a donut peace offering in hand, my stomach tied in knots, so damn scared to talk to her about everything for the first time in our long friendship.
Because I’m afraid this one talk will ruin everything we’ve managed to build up again. Or just ruin everything period.
“Sadie!” She looks up from the spreadsheets she had flung all across her coffee table. “Do you have any idea what your mother pays in mortgage and property tax per month?”
“Um, no. Not at all.” I slide my feet out of my boots and sit on the soft rug across from her, listening to the gentle sounds of the classical Christmas carol station. “Do you want me to ask?”
She’s staring out her apartment window, tapping her pen to her chin, and I’m not sure she even heard me.
“Income properties are such a valuable add on. I know your mom never wants to move because that’s the house she and your father bought together, but I worry about how she’ll be able to manage things when she gets older.”
“George, my mom isn’t even fifty yet.”
I try to laugh, but I feel a pinch of guilt. These are probably things
I
should be thinking about. When I left for college, I made sure I could go to school on scholarship and with pretty minimal loans, but I never stuck around to actually help with bills like Ella does.
Maybe I really do only think of myself.
Which brings me back to why I’m here.
“I know,” Georgia says, snagging a bearclaw. “What do you think she’d say to me investing in the basement of your house as an income property? I could live there and pay for a complete upgrade in lieu of rent. When the baby and I leave, she’ll have the option to rent the space or just leave it as is. Because your house is prime location for the commuters who want to live in the burbs.”
“Um…” I look over her spreadsheets and figures. “That sounds amazing. I’m sure Mom will love the idea.” I don’t want to be an asshole, but I know Georgia would never have made it this far into planning without cold, hard facts. “Were you able to get a bank loan?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I just started this job, I barely have any credit. No bank would touch me with a ten foot pole. I’m planning to ask Trent,” she says breezily.
I catch sight of the number she has factored under “total.”
“You’re asking Trent to lend you…” I point.
She circles the the number and laughs. “I know, it’s a very low estimate. That’s for materials and labor we can’t manage ourselves, like plumbing. I think a full bath would be pretty necessary down there. But forget basic brute labor. My little brother can give his pregnant sister his nights and weekends for free until this project is done.”
“That’s a lot of money,” I say slowly.
Georgia settles back on the couch, her lips pinched together.
“Right. It’s been a while since we really talked, Sade. I mean, probably since the funeral. A lot has changed for all of us. For Trent especially.”
There isn’t even a hint of accusation in her voice, but I hang my head.
“You have no idea how sorry I am for that. I know I wasn’t the best friend, I know that. I’m not trying to compare my problems to yours, please don’t think that, but I was drowning too, George. And I felt so alone. I know picking up the phone would have been a huge help, but every time I tried, this panic would just rise up and stop me. I guess I was avoiding...everything.”
She reaches her hand out, and I take it. It feels so damn good to have her here, by my side, as the true friend I should have reached out to months ago.
“It’s okay, Sadie. I understand. It was easier to sleep with some guy I had a crush on than go cry on your mother’s couch. I think we all did things to avoid dealing with losing her.”
Georgia’s eyes go to the picture of our mothers hanging on her wall.
“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing as I say it it’s not remotely enough. “So sorry. I know I screwed up. Everyone thinks I went off to have this big adventure in college, but I think I just ran away. I think I really thought I could hide out there. But I’m sick of pretending.”
I’m usually cool, calm, able to hold it all together, but the tears are just running fast and hot down my face, soaking the back of Georgia’s shirt as she holds me tight and lets me howl.
For the first time, the dam really breaks.
Everything—
every single thing
I’ve been hiding, everything I’ve been afraid of comes swirling out, and it’s this disgusting, sucking whirlpool of painful memories, stupid mistakes, missed opportunities, and pretending to be what I’m not, what I’m
so not
.
My head aches, my voice is raw and scratchy, and snot and tears run down my face, but I don’t stop. Because as good as it feels to unload about my douchebag exes, my loneliness and fear of failure, my asshole professors and all the times I had to work triples just to be able to afford to keep a roof over my head, it’s all just a prelude to what I really want to say.
What I need to say.
“And then there’s Trent.”
Up to this point, Georgia has had her hand wrapped around mine, her eyes locked on my face, nodding, murmuring sweet, helpful things, handing me tissues so I could mop down my face. At the mention of her brother’s name, she snaps up straight and narrows her eyes at me.
“What about my brother?”
The possessiveness in her voice is a shrill warning bell letting me know I’d better tread carefully. But how can I? There’s nothing careful or easy about any of this. So I just run at it, head down, eyes closed, breath held, and hope beyond hope for the best.
“I love Trent.”
I watch her mouth pull tight. She shakes her head slowly.
“Right. I love Ella. We love each other. We’re like
family
.”
“No.” Deep breath. “I...I’m in love with Trent.”
Now that I’ve said the words, out loud, finally, I expect something huge to happen. The skies to open, fireworks to pop and crackle overhead, glitter to rain down over us.
But all there is the soft swell of “Joy to the World” and Georgia’s stunned expression.
“Don’t, please don’t look at me like that,” I say in a whisper, crawling closer to her. She jumps back like I’m poisonous.
She’s off the couch, pacing back and forth across the floor.
“Okay. Okay. So this is some kind of crush. You’re having, like, a quarter-life crisis. That’s a thing, right?”
“I don’t think that’s what this is, Georgia. I can’t stop thinking about him. He challenges me. He makes me excited to try new things, to be true to myself. I’m attracted to hi—”
“Stop, Sadie!” She throws both hands up. “You’re talking about my
brother
.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to make things so complicated.” I can hear how lamely the words drop out of my mouth.
Georgia isn’t remotely interested in my meek little apologies.
“Do you have
any
idea what kind of havoc you two could bring on all of us?” she snaps, running a hand through her hair and tugging at her ear. “We just lost our mother, you realize that, right? He’s not even done mourning her. You think he could survive you breaking his heart?”
I’ve been holding it in for so long, and I just can’t anymore.
“Why the hell does everyone think I’m going to break his heart?” I yell.
My voice echoes around the room, over the sound of a new song. “O Holy Night” washes through the room.
‘Oh holy screwed up insanity’ is more like it.
Georgia stalks over to the her wall of photos and faces them, her back to me. When she finally answers, it’s so low I can barely make it out.
“You’re beautiful. The smartest person I know. You’re kind in your own way. Funny when you want to be. Focused.”
“Thank you,” I breathe, my fingers knotted.
“I’m not done.” She traces a finger over Trent’s high school picture and then whirls around, her curls bouncing in the warm glow of her little place. “I love you. Like a sister. But Trent
is
my brother, and I’ll do anything it takes to keep him from getting hurt. You’re amazing, Sadie. I know you’re going to find a guy who’s going to make you so damn happy. But it’s not Trent. And I’m telling you to let him go before he gets hurt.”
“I’d never do that,” I choke out, pressing my knuckles to my lips to hold the sob back. “I’d never hurt him.”
“I don’t think you would mean it.” Georgia’s voice wilts, tired from all this talk. All this craziness I’ve leveled on her when she’s just barely gotten back on her feet again. “You’re selfish, Sade. And I’m glad you are. It means you’ll go further than any of us. Do better than we all will, stuck here. But Trent needs someone who can be his partner. Be there for him. Someone like Rosa.”
I get up and stagger toward the door.
“Sadie, wait…”
I press a hand just left of center on my chest, and I swear I can’t make out a beat. I imagined her anger, her disappointment, her disgust. But this is something else entirely. This is my oldest friend turning her back on me. Letting me know the ugly way she’s always seen me.
And what hurts most is that she’s not the only one who brought it up.
Ella said it.
Mom said it.
Trent said it.
Now Georgia.
I’m selfish. Cold. Determined to do what I need to get ahead, ready to leave the people I love behind. Out for adventure, for gain, for
myself.
It isn’t what everyone said about me that has me torn apart. It’s the terrible realization that
they’re right.
“Sadie, please come back here. I’m hormonal right now. We can talk it through some more. I didn’t mean for it all to sound as harsh as it did.”
“But you meant what you said, right?” I wait a second and soften my voice. “Right?”
“Yes.” She looks up, her hazel eyes begging for my understanding. “I’m sorry, I am. But I meant every word.”
She lays a hand on her tiny stomach and winces.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, stepping forward.
She sits hard on the couch and shakes her head.
“No. No, I’m fine. Just...maybe you should go.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my hand on the doorknob.
She nods weakly. “I need to lie down.”
“Let me help you to—”
“Just go. Please.”
Would it be selfish to stay when I’m clearly distressing my best friend? Or would it be selfish to go when she’s obviously not feeling well.
I compromise. I leave her apartment and call my mother.
“Mom? Can you stop by Georgia’s place. She’s not feeling well.”
I say my goodbyes before Mom can ask anything else and trudge back to my sister’s car. I lean so hard on everyone else. I depend on them. But I don’t give back. I don’t.
“You need to start,” I tell myself, whispering fiercely as I switch on the ignition. “You need to start
now.
”
Chapter Nineteen
It’s New Year’s Eve. The last night of this old, shitty year. I’m desperate for the first night of a new, better one.
And this one will be better. I know it will.
“Mom?” I knock softly on her doorframe.
“Come on in, love.” She sounds tired.
She’s been shuttling between our house and Georgia’s apartment. It winds up it was just cramps that had Georgia in pain, and the doctor chalked it up to dehydration. She’s been ordered to keep a water bottle around at all time.
Mom knows something’s up between us because she’s my mom and she just knows everything. But she also knows when it’s better to keep her nose out of it, and this time she does.
“I was wondering if you have something I can borrow? I have a New Year’s party to go to tonight.”
She perks up. My mom loves clothes and she loves parties. She always lamented the fact that I never went to nearly enough and Ella went to way too many.
“You don’t want to borrow something of Ella’s? I think her clothes are a little more hip.”
I think about my sister’s tight, bright, sexy winter collection dusted with glitter and sequins, and I smile. “No. It’s kind of a fancy party, so I need something classic.”
“Well, I haven’t worn this baby since your daddy was still around to take me dancing, but I know I can find it in here.” Mom sticks her head in her walk-in closet, and I take a minute to look around.
I cringe.
My mother is an incredibly capable woman. She’s more than able to do all the things my father could have done. But she always had to make do on a single salary, juggling the hats of mother and father both at once. Her room looks worn, outdated. It’s scrubbed clean and neat as a pin, but the carpet is patchy and faded. The paint is splotchy from the sun hitting in the exact same pattern across the walls for so many years. The curtains and bedding could all use an update.
She loves things to look good. But this place is falling down around her ears, and who’s here to help? Not me.
Meanwhile she spends every spare cent she has to make sure I’m comfortable at college and have every single thing I ever needed.
“Here it is!” she cries, popping out with an emerald green dress. It’s simple—cap sleeves, scoop neck, silky fabric, little tie at the waist—but it’s absolutely gorgeous. She motions for me to strip out of my clothes, and, when I’m shivering in just my underwear and bra, she slips it over my head, makes a few adjustments, and twirls her finger so I’ll turn.
Mom presses her red and white candy-cane painted fingernails over her lips.
“Oh, baby. You look so beautiful. Stunning.”
I smooth down the skirt. “Thank you, Mom. It’s incredible.”
“I have a string of black pearls that would look gorgeous with that. Let me find them.” Mom is rummaging in her jewelry box, humming an old song, looking so beautiful, I feel a surge of love for her.
“Mom?”
“Mmm?”
“Did Georgia run her plans by you yet?”
She stops searching through her boxes and closes the lid quietly, then turns to look at me, her face drawn. “She did.”
“Do you think it’s something you might do?”
She turns back to her dresser and runs her fingers over the carved boxes sitting on top of it. “I’d love to. I would. But I need to get to the bottom of what’s going on between the two of you.”
“Us?” I suck at pretending, and my mother’s raised eyebrows let me know I’m not fooling her at all.
“I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s that Georgia is dealing with so many difficult changes all at once. Or maybe you’re just chomping at the bit to get back to college. I have no clue, but I need to find out. I won’t have you girls unhappy. I love Georgia. She’s like a daughter to me.”
“I’d never want you to feel like you had to choose between us, Mom,” I say, sitting on her bed.
This bed was where I crawled as a kid when I was scared. This was my place of solace. It’s been a long time since the dark or monsters or thunder sent me running, but I feel like I’m that little girl who needs her mother’s bed all over again.
“Georgia and her baby need us,” I say firmly.
“And we’re here for them. No question.”
“Except I’m making it complicated,” I say, surprised at just how bitter my voice is.
My mother dips her hands into the jewelry box one more time and comes back with a glowing necklace of pearls. She walks to the bed, sits beside me, and reaches up to clasp them behind my neck.
“I’m your mother, sweetie. I know you better than anyone. You’ve always done for yourself, always forged your own path. And I’m proud of you for doing that. But now I feel like you might need me, and if that’s true, here I am. I’ll help you any way I can. If Georgia moving in won’t work for the family as a whole, we’ll work something else out. Just because you can do it on your own doesn’t mean you have to.”
I let those words sink in.
I look around at this room, in this house, where this family has lived such a happy life because my mother had no choice but to do it on her own. Well, not entirely. She had help and support from Eileen. I can’t imagine how scary it must be to have lost that safety net.
I wrap my arms around my mother’s neck and breathe in the sweet smell of her skin. “Same goes for you, Mommy. Same goes for you.”
She holds me tight, so tight I’m afraid she’ll pop a seam in the dress. When she lets me go, her eye makeup is runny.
“Look what you’re making me do! Now my makeup’s going to run. Go on, now. You need to get ready for this big party, and your old mom needs to slip into her comfy jammies and watch some good comedies with Ella. That kid needs cheering up if anybody ever did.”
I kiss my mother’s cheek and pull back from her embrace.
“I’m going to check on her before I get ready.”
Mom’s smile is all the encouragement I need to go face my crabass sister.
“That’s a good girl. I’m so glad you two have each other. Go ahead now.”
I make my way down the hall to Ella’s room, where she’s staring at her ceiling, some woman with a sweet, intensely depressing voice crooning from her speaker system.
“Hey.” I sit on her bed and she flicks her eyes to me.
“You look amazing in that dress,” she says flatly. I know she’s not being sarcastic. I think she maybe just doesn’t have the will to modulate her voice.
“Thank you. Do you want to come? It’s an artsy kind of thing—”
She manages a weak smile. “Thanks, sis. But I think I’ll sit here and mope with Mom. There’s a metric ton of leftover Christmas cookies to work through.” She stretches her arms over her head. “I hear you and Georgia had a little fallout the other day.”
I clear my throat. “We’re, um, we’re okay. Or we’ll
be
okay. I hope.”
“I tried to warn you.” She takes one glance at my face and the gloating look melts off her features. “Shit. Sorry. Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head. “Not since I ran into him after my first art class.” Thinking about that class brings a fresh wave of heat to my neck and cheeks. I narrow my eyes at Ella. “By the way, did you know Trent modeled for life-drawing classes?”
“Oh?”
The inability to lie is clearly a genetic thing with the Jellicos.
“You little ass!” I swat at her, and she rolls out of my reach.
“I thought since you’ve been undressing him with your eyes for months, some actual nudity would be a nice change.”
I blush, because I
had
been undressing him with my eyes...and I resolved the problem of my curiosity in that particular department long before the life-drawing class.
“I don’t want to know, seriously,” Ella says, making a gagging noise. “Are you lovebirds planning to talk? Or meet for a midnight kiss? Or have some sort of contact beyond the telepathy you’re apparently relying on at this point? Something? Anything?”
“I don’t know if he’s coming to the party. I’m too scared to ask. And I want to tell him how I feel. What I want for both of us. But I want it to be right.”
My sister buries her face in a sequined throw pillow and screams, then punches it and points at me. “Why are you so dense? Did you listen to
nothing
I said? Love can be really messy. Seriously messy. So, you better get off your ass and fight for what you want.”
Downstairs, the doorbell chimes. We both exchange a look.
“Georgia said she’s going to bed early tonight,” Ella says slowly.
“I doubt it’s Trent.” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.
We rush to the stairwell the way we always used to when we were kids. We crouch down and peek through the banister railing, craning to see into the foyer or overhear something.
“...just wanted to say ‘happy New Year.’ I feel silly now. I should go.”
“No!” Mom’s yelp carries up the stairs, loud and clear. “You have to stay. Ella will be right down. Sit, sit! If I don’t see you eating some of those cookies, I’m going to be very disappointed, young lady.”
My sister has collapsed against the wall behind us, her face bone white. I crawl over to her.
“Is this bad?” I ask. I wonder if she hoped it was Antonia.
“Bad?” she repeats groggily. “No. Not bad. Um, I need to…” She looks at me, her eyes pleading. “Do I look okay?”
I reach into her pocket and fish out the Lip Smacker I know will be there. She’s been carrying chapstick with her nonstop since she was ten. I hold her chin in my hand and put the gloss on her top, then bottom lip and motion for her to press her lips together.
She does, rubbing them together nervously.
“You look so beautiful, Ella.” I push her hair back and kiss her forehead. “Go see Melanie.”
“I hurt her, Sade.” My sister grabs my wrist, her eyes wild. “She was good to me, and I just trampled her heart.”
“I guess the Jellico girls are just fuckups when it comes to love.” I give her a good pat on the butt. “Good thing we’re also excellent at grovelling. And we’re cute. And stubborn. If nothing else, put the bad shit from the old year behind you.”
She nods, squaring her delicate shoulders as she stands. “Right. Okay. I can do this.”
Before she goes down the stairs, she catches me in a tight hug.
“I’m glad you’re around, Sadie. Don’t punk out and wear that wimpy pink lipstick. You’re lucky enough to be able to pull off red. Go fucking red.”
I laugh and nod, then walk to the bathroom as my sister, stair by stair, goes to face the her first love, the girl whose heart she broke before she learned the value of real love.
I think about how thickheaded we are as I shadow on smoky eyes and lips so old Hollywood red, Ella won’t be able to complain.
“I’m going!” I call to Mom, who hands me a five pound plate of cookies.
“Hostess gift. You’re not showing up to a party empty handed, Sadie Jellico. Those macaroons are your father’s grandmother’s recipe. That woman had to be real life witch, she was so damn evil, but if she traded her soul to Satan to get this recipe, I think it was worth it.”
I glance over and see Ella and Melanie, heads bent low, talking quietly on the couch.
“What’s going on in there?” I ask.
Mom looks over at them, a soft smile on her face. “I think my youngest might be realizing how rare and wonderful real love is.” She looks up at me, pinches my cheek and kisses the side of my mouth. “Go before you turn into a damn pumpkin! Do
not
drink and drive. Text me if you’re staying over somewhere. Do you have money for a cab home, just in case?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’d almost prefer you wait an hour or two after the ball falls if you can stay up. By then all the drunks who got on the road will be home or crashed, and all the rest will be passed out in someone’s bathtub. I know you’re an adult, and I trust you. But give my heart a rest and text me, will you?”
“I will,” I promise, kissing her again. Thank you for the macaroons.”
I tiptoe past Ella and Melanie, whispering intently, their heads bent close, and make my way out into the bitter cold air. I shiver all the way to the car, the nude heels I swiped from Ella’s room nearly sending me toppling down. It takes a good ten minutes before the car warms up at all, and I’m still only halfway to the party. Of course, the heat only really kicks in when I’m already pulling onto the cobblestoned driveway.
In front of a gorgeous, stately mansion. The entire facade and all the shrubbery glows with twinkle lights, and the front walk is lined with sparkling glass jars, tea light flames glowing through the sides and the snowflake cutouts in the lids. There are wreaths with bright red bows hanging in front of every window and door. People dressed to the nines are walking in, clutching wine bottles in each hand.
Shit!
Should I have brought wine?
I refuse to be embarrassed by Mom’s macaroons. I walk in, head held high, plate balanced on my forearms, and graciously thank the man who runs up the walk to get the door for me. Inside there’s a tree that has to rival the one in Rockefeller Center. It reaches all the way up to the peak of the cathedral ceiling, and is dripping with lights and sparkling glass ornaments.