Authors: Kathryn R. Biel
After the Hendersons leave, Jenna is all in a tizzy. Which means, obviously, that she can't help Mom clean up. Instead, she's moving from one chair to another, fanning herself. There's a fair amount of moaning and wailing going on as well.
"What if they try and take my baby?"
I swear she's channeling Meryl Streep in "A Cry in the Night."
Mom, always the voice of reason. Well, usually the voice of reason, chimes in, "You'll just have to hire a lawyer. Until then, try to stay on their good side. If they want to see the baby, let them. Include them in the child's life. This is all they have left of their son. Try to respect that."
See? Good advice that any normal person in her early thirties would heed. Too bad Jenna is not normal. I can tell by her response that she stopped listening at the word lawyer. She fixated on that and didn't hear the rest of it.
"How am I supposed to afford a lawyer? Retail does not pay that much you know. Those people are loaded, I bet. I should sue them for child support."
"If you can't afford a child, then maybe you shouldn't be having one." I can't help myself. Jenna's job is fairly decent. She's the manager at a very upscale boutique. She's good at selling. However, she's also good at spending. Her savings could use a little work. Where I could buy a house on just my salary, sometimes Jenna has trouble making her rent. I don't know how she makes her car payments.
"Well, it's not like I planned to be doing this alone, you know. I thought I'd have Robin with me for support."
I know I should leave well enough alone, but I just can't. Like that thread that's hanging, it begs me to pull. "Do you know that Rob would have supported you?"
Tossing her hair in that defiant manner, she looks at me. "Why on earth wouldn't he?"
"Because Rob wasn't on board with the whole kid thing."
"And how would you know that?"
"Jenna, are you a moron? He was my boyfriend. We'd talked about it. A lot." No way in hell was I telling her about my pregnancy and miscarriage. That would just be one more thing for her to hold over my head about how she's better than I am. There was a time in our lives when Jenna and I weren't competitive. We didn't hate each other. We liked each other. We were the best of friends. We played together every day. We picked out the same outfits so that we were dressed alike. Even though we had our own rooms, we slept in the same room each night. Then, one day, it abruptly changed. It probably coincided with puberty and hormonal changes. I was in eighth grade and Jenna was in sixth. She came home from school, threw her bag at me, and told me she hated me and that I'd ruined her life. Despite trying to talk to her about it, she shut down, and our relationship has been forever changed.
It was trivial stuff too. If I told Mom I wanted something for Christmas, suddenly she had to have it for her birthday (right before Christmas). If I was joining a club, even if she had been interested in it, it suddenly became the "lamest." But as much as she criticized me, there was a one-upmanship that became tiring. I'm not saying I was blameless. I fed into her drama. I whined and complained almost as much as she did. However, somewhere along the line, I grew up and she didn't.
Mom was caught in the middle. We've gone through periods where we're very close. We've been through periods where she and Jenna are very close. That never happens at the same time. I feel like we're always pulling Mom in one direction or another. About the time when Dad had his stroke, I decided I was tired of the game and took myself out.
It's hurt Mom, I'm sure. I miss the relationship we used to have. Jenna wasted no time swooping in and playing the helpless role. Stupid things, like needing my mom to come over and get her Christmas decorations out of storage and putting them up for her. I'm resentful of the attention Jenna gets, like she's a helpless child. Not that I want to be helpless, but it would be nice to be taken care of every now and again, instead of taking care of everyone else. No one sees that Jenna's manipulative. No one expects more of her.
And no one, besides me, sees any problem with her getting knocked up by my boyfriend.
Part of me wants to jump up and down and scream and shout. I want to tell everyone that I was pregnant and lost my baby. I want the sympathy, the coddling. I want people to think that I'm the special one, not her. I'm jealous that she gets the attention. And I'm too damn old to feel that way.
I can't keep putting my mom in the middle. I can't keep swallowing my pride and kowtowing to my sister. And this baby thing is only going to make that much harder. Especially if things get nasty. Well, nastier.
The kitchen is in pretty good shape, so I give Mom a quick hug and leave without saying goodbye to my sister. Walking out into the driveway, I see Aunt Elaine outside pruning her rose bushes. Our family living next door to the funeral home was convenient for Dad, to say the least. I always wondered if Mom minded living so close to her brother-in-law. Uncle Peter was sort of the polar opposite of Dad. Uncle Peter and Aunt Elaine never had children. I always wondered why, but sometimes I think it was because the three of us were a handful.
I usually avoided talking to my aunt, but tonight I decide to go over there.
"How's it going? Nice crop of roses this year."
"They're coming along. How are you doing? I hear that you bought yourself a little house."
"I did. Lots of work, but I think it will be worth it in the end. Of course, it may take me several years to get through all the renovations I want to do. Maybe next summer I can hit you up for some landscaping ideas. I'd love to have roses that look like this." I touch the delicate pink blossom. So beautiful, so dainty, yet tough all at the same time.
"They've been my pride and joy for years, these roses." Aunt Elaine has a wistful expression on her face.
"They're a lot of work, aren't they?" In my head, I'm thinking maybe I want something lower maintenance. Still, now I have to invite her over and get her opinion. It won't be so bad. After all, I'm shaping up to be the old aunt who never has kids, just like her. Won't hurt me to spend some more time with her. I'll be looking for the company when I'm older too.
"I've had a lot of free time over the years, with Peter working odd hours at the funeral home. Roses are my thing."
"I get that. It had to be hard being on your own so much." Mom was always busy with the three of us. She never seemed bored when Dad had a Saturday funeral or was called out of the house at odd hours to transport a body.
"Isn't that why you're taking on this home renovation project?" From anyone else, that comment would have seemed mean. From Aunt Elaine, it was direct but soft.
"Probably. I've been looking at houses for a long time now. I've always wanted to own my own home. I love the old ones too. I don't mind the restoration aspect. It's fun."
"You know, when you were young, you were always the one helping Simon with all the projects. I always thought it was odd that you were the one with the tools, not Brady."
"Brady is a tool."
She laughs. "Yes, he's quite the piece of work. Breaks my heart, really, to see how Brady and Jenna turned out. The three of you were like our own children in many ways. You're the only one who has a decent head and heart."
My eyes fill up. Partially from the compliment, but mostly because someone has
finally
acknowledged me for being a good person.
Aunt Elaine continues. "I know this year has been rough on you."
"And it's only going to get rougher."
"Why do you say that?"
We've migrated to the large front porch and are sitting on the wicker furniture usually reserved for the bereaved who can't go the full three hours of the wake without sneaking outside for a smoke. "Haven't you heard the joyous news? Jenna is in the family way."
"You're kidding!"
"Wish I was. She's pregnant with Rob's baby."
Aunt Elaine has no words for this. I understand it. It's like a bad soap opera being played out in my life. Finally, she seems able to speak. "I, um, take it this was unplanned?"
"You could say that." I think for a minute, "Actually, to tell you the truth, I don't know. With Jenna, it's hard to say. I mean she was, after all, having an affair with my boyfriend."
"Well, there's that."
We sit in silence for a minute, the night sky creeping in and easing out the last moments of daylight. I wonder why I haven't made more time for Aunt Elaine since I grew up and left my parents' house. Although I don't like to think it, in some ways I'm just as selfish as Brady and Jenna.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around more."
"You've been busy. Peter says you still visit the nursing home almost every day."
I look at my toes, nails in desperate need of some polish. I've been too busy with the house to even think about it lately. "I do. Well, weekdays at least. I'm still waitressing and then working on the house."
"What are you working on?"
"The bathroom is just about finished. I restored the original clawfoot tub and redid the rest. I just have to finish putting in the light fixtures and shelving, and then that room will be done."
"Then what?"
"Taking down some woodwork in the living room, stripping it, staining it, and putting it back up. The rest just needs a good cleaning and polishing. There are some gorgeous built-ins. Painting. I've been trying not to move too much in so that I won't have to move too much back out. I have a dumpster for all the debris. The place is sort of a mess, but I love it. It's my mess. When I get it livable, you'll have to come over and see it."
"I will. It sounds like you've got a lot on your plate. Are you doing it by yourself?"
"I've hired a contractor to help me. But otherwise, yes."
"That's impressive. Simon would be proud."
"I'd like to think so. I tell him about it all but it's hard to know what he hears. So, thanks for listening, Aunt Elaine. It was nice chatting with you." I stand up to leave.
"Any time, Sadie. Don't be a stranger. If you need an open ear, I'm here."
I give my aunt a quick hug and then run down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, I look back up at her. "You know, Jenna's done a lot of crazy things before, but this really takes the cake."
"Yes, it does."
"I mean, who does this?" I'm talking more to myself than to Elaine.
"You don't deserve this."
"No, I don't. But what about Jenna? What does she deserve?"
"Waterboarding?"
I laugh, a bitter, shrill laugh. "That would be too good for her. I swear, I could kill her for this. I really could."
"You don't mean that Sadie honey."
"Unfortunately, Aunt Elaine, this time I do."
"It's gorgeous."
"I know."
"I'm completely in love with it."
"How can you not be?"
I turn to look at Max. We're standing in the doorway to my bathroom, admiring the gleam of the chrome fixtures, the shine of the white tile, the majesty of the tub. It is perfect. It fits the period of the house with all the modern conveniences, right down to the fluffy Egyptian cotton towels that were a complete and total splurge for me. I cannot wait to wrap myself in them. To keep the black of the tub and the white of the floor and tiled wall from being too stark, I painted the walls above the tile a bright aqua blue.
I'd been nervous about that combination, but Max assured me that it would be great. If I weren't happy, he said he'd repaint it, free of charge. Actually, we'd had some heated discussions about the paint, even as it was going on the walls. I was sort of worked up and accidentally splattered Max with it. From there, it escalated into a paint fight. We finally ended up in the backyard, hosing each other off. Thankfully the water had been cold, because things had been about to get more physical than I was ready for.
"You were right about the blue."
"I know."
"Humble much?"
"Not about this."
I try not to notice how his grin shows off his straight white teeth or how his eyes seem to match the aqua on the walls. Likewise, I'm totally not looking at how his feet, usually trapped in work boots, are long and lean in his flip flops, making me wonder what else on his body is long. I shake my head a bit to clear the impure thoughts that are encouraging me to throw myself into his arms and rip off all his clothes. I don't know how much longer I can hold off his advances, which are getting more obvious and more frequent.
Giving in would not be good.
Or more likely, it would be very good.
But bad, I tell myself, since we still have several rooms to renovate before the end of the summer. My goal is to get all the rooms painted and the trim done by the time I go back to school, as well as finish the mudroom overhaul that has brought the laundry out of the basement. The washer and dryer have already been moved, but nothing else is done in that room. I have to fix up the living room fireplace and built-in bookcases as well. The original lead glass windows above the bookcases are on the schedule for this week. The mudroom project will be the next big thing. Replacing all the light fixtures and outlets will be something I can do on my own in the fall, if I don't get to it before then. Thinking about being in the house without Max here working makes me sort of sad. Lots of sad, actually. I think I've spent more time with Max since Memorial Day than I did in a year with Rob, which, when you consider that we worked together, says a lot.
I'm going to have to come up with more projects just to keep Max around. Or I could just ask him out. That might be easier. Until I accidentally kill him, like I did Rob. And all those other people.
Then I notice he's looking at me. Uh oh, please tell me I was not speaking out loud.
"What?" I try to compose myself.
"I should ask you that. Where did you go? You were all happy for a second, then you looked down, and it was like you got lost in a fog or something. You do that a lot. Are you okay? Are you offended by my toes?"
"No, I'm fine, but why would I be offended by your toes? I can't smell them from here or anything."
Max looks at his feet and wiggles his toes a little. We're still standing side by side just outside the bathroom door. It's a rather awkward position, and we should move, but I'm not going to lie—I appreciate the proximity.
"They're freakishly long. My college roommates always made fun of them."
"They are more like fingers than toes."
"That's why I never wear shoes that show my toes."
"I thought you just wore the boots because it's part of your sexy-construction-worker image."
He turns and looks at me. Somehow, we're even closer than before. My chest is rising and falling, trying unsuccessfully to keep air in my lungs. I could get lost—scratch that—I am already lost in his eyes. They're twinkling with some sort of mischievous thought. It's the sort of look he gets before he does something he's not supposed to, like that time he dropped ice cubes down my shirt.
He steps towards me, and I instinctively back up. My back is now against the doorframe, and I've nowhere left to go. It's hard to catch my breath with him this close. And with his body pressing into mine. And with his lips so very close.
"So, you think I'm sexy?"
I try to hold my ground. "What? Where'd you get that idea?"
"You just said I had a sexy-construction-worker image, didn't you?"
I try to think but all I can focus on is how close those lips are to mine and how easy it would be to close that distance. "I, um, I ... I meant that all construction workers think they have a sexy thing going on. That's all."
"So," he says, licking his lips, "you don't find me attractive?"
God, he's killing me. All the flirting, all the teasing, all those comments have led up to this very moment. I want him so badly right now. But I can't. I cannot do this to him.
"No, not really." I'm so lying.
"Then why are you breathing heavy? And why are your pupils dilated? And why do you keep pressing your hips into mine?" With that, he grinds into me, matching my unconscious movements. Dammit. My own body is betraying me.
Before I can lie some more, he takes my breath away, once and for all claiming my mouth. Oh. My. God. His mouth is warm and delicious and skilled. His stubble scrapes my face, but just makes me want him even more. I'm weak in the knees and hot and bothered all at the same time. My lady bits have awakened from their slumber and are screaming in joy and agony.
I wrap my leg around his waist as his hand begins to caress my thigh. It reaches into my shorts and grabs a handful of my ass, squeezing with a firm pressure. Thank goodness it's summer, so we don't have much clothing to remove to get to business. His mouth moves to my neck and chest, and I'm frantically trying to remove his t-shirt.
We're going to have sex, most likely up against this wall. In the middle of the day. Hallelujah. It's like all my fantasies are coming true.
"Sadie! SADIE! SADIE MELVINA, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? YOUR CAR IS HERE SO I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"
Max pulls back and looks at me. He remembers that voice—hell, how can you forget it?
I roll my eyes as Max steps back, my leg falling to the floor. He's pulling down my shirt, which I hadn't even noticed was pulled up, exposing all of my bra. Man, he works quick.
"SADIE MELVINA!" Jenna's voice scrapes through me like nails on a chalkboard.
"Melvina?" Max asks, unable to control his smile. He's taken a step back and is adjusting himself. Part of me is cheering that I've had such an effect on him. The other part is going to kill my sister.
"Shut it. Long story. I hate it and never tell it to anyone. Hence, Jenna insists on using it. I hate her. I hate her so much."
I'm not even aware that I'm muttering how much I hate my sister as I walk toward the back of the house, following the most distasteful sound ever.
"SADI—"
"What do you want?" Jenna is standing in my kitchen, bellowing, just like she used to when she was little and wanted my dad to come tuck her in at night. "Why are you in my house? Actually, I don't care. Get out."
Her mouth hangs open for a split second. Then it snaps closed, and she re-loads. "I cannot believe you have the nerve to talk to me like that." She's nervous, pacing around my kitchen, touching everything on the counter. I don't register that this is her behavior when she's deep in thought or troubled. I only register that I want her out of my house. NOW.
"Seriously Jenna, get out. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want you in my house. I don't want anything to do with you."
"Sadie, I know what this must seem like, but I really need your help."
Now it's my turn for my mouth to fall open. Red rage seethes through me, making it impossible for me to even form words. Jenna's always been ballsy, but this simply takes the cake. Without waiting for me to respond, she continues.
"I don't know what I'm gonna do. I—"
"You're going to leave before I drag you out by your dyed-red hair extensions."
"Um, actually, I'm going to leave." Max interrupts us. He's got a look on his face like he's trying to say something to me without actually speaking.
"I'll walk you out." Anything to get away from my sister.
We step into the living room. I hear Jenna walk down the hall toward the bathroom.
"Are you going to be okay here?" Max reaches out and runs his finger lightly down my cheek and jawbone. That light touch ignites a fire elsewhere.
"Yeah, nothing I can't handle. I'll make her leave, one way or another."
"Do you want me to stay?"
OH GOD YES. "Nah, that's okay. She'll be gone soon. I'm gonna start working on the windows. They've all got to be taken apart to improve the weather efficiency. And the two stained glass windows are getting fixed. I've got a tight schedule to stay on. The window guy is coming tomorrow afternoon."
He looks ... disappointed? "Okay. Call me if something comes up."
"You mean, like if I feel the need to kill her?"
Laughing, Max leans in and gives me a quick kiss. "Something like that. It does seem like she's always interrupting at inopportune times." He turns and is out the door. I close the door behind him and lean back on it. Holy hell, he is one of the sexiest things I've ever laid eyes on. I touch my lips, relishing the memory of him ravaging them. I almost had wall sex. Or at least wall foreplay. Until my damn sister walked in.
Speaking of which, where the hell did she go? Is she still in the bathroom? It's been a few minutes since she went in there. No sign of her in the kitchen or living room. Must be the bathroom. What is she doing in my brand new bathroom? She'd better not be fouling it up in there. Or puking all over the place. If she is, she's gonna clean it up. I literally just put out the towels. I don't think I've even used it yet. Speaking of which, I need to pee, so she needs to wrap it up.
BANG BANG BANG. "Jenna, hurry up in there. You'd better not be destroying my bathroom." I wait. No response. Standing still just reinforces my bladder's suddenly urgent need to empty. BANG BANG BANG. "C'mon Jenna!"
She's got the water running, which is only making the situation worse for me. Dammit, I don't care what she's doing in there. I'm going in.
Are you freakin' kidding me? That bitch locked the door. Cursing myself for buying a house with only one bathroom, I hightail it to the kitchen and dig through the junk drawer for the key. I loved all the crystal doorknobs and skeleton key locks that my doors had. Of course, I never thought I'd have to actually use them. The key takes a bit of jiggling in the lock to do its thing, but finally I have the door opened.
I am so not prepared for what is in my bathroom.
I am going to kill her.