Page 80 of Even After This
She places her cup down. “Meredith, you aren’t normal.”
The words knock the breath out of me.
“I’m not just being a big sister here.” Her voice lowers. “If he breaks your heart, it might break you.”
My gasp cannot mask the bruise of her blow. “But that’s going to be the case with anyone. I either risk now or risk later. Do you want me to be alone the rest of my life?” I dump the dough, causing a halo of flour to poof into the air.
“It’s not that simple, Meredith, and you know it. What if something happens and you come undone? Do you want me to remind you what the last four Christmases were like?”
I pummel the dough flat with a little more force than necessary. “Harlan and I haven’t even talked about Christmas yet.”
“You will. You will because yesterday was real. He likes you.” She draws her coffee up to take a sip. “And don’t pretend grief at Thanksgiving and grief at Christmas are the same. They aren’t.”
In terms of loss, Christmas is Thanksgiving on steroids. It’s more everything. More flashbacks. More things to miss. Gifts. Children having fun. Santa Claus. Cards with family photos. Shiny, screaming, decorative reminders of what was taken from me.
Picking up a stick of butter, I unwrap it, then drop it in a bowl. I shove the dish in the microwave, slam the door shut, and pound the timer. “What is your endgame, Molly?”
She scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I stare at the butter going round and round, angry bubbles forming. “How long will you protect me from holidays? For the next five years? Ten years?”
“You are so ungrateful—”
“No.” I turn on my heel to face her. “I’m eternally grateful. You cannot imagine. But, Molly, I’m worried that my life has engulfed yours.” A growling exhale of frustration escapes. “Let me ask yousomething. When you aren’t trying to take care of me, what do you think about?”
“What kind of a question is that? What’s going on with you?” She paces two steps and whirls back my direction. “First you took this odd trip to tour properties in Colorado. Then Francine Clyde told me you never returned her call about helping with the church database system. You worked way less hours at the food pantry this season. Next thing I know, you’ve broken a good man’s heart but invited a flaky actor slash YouTube star into your home.”
She didnotjust say that. “Molly—”
“No. This is bizarre behavior, Meredith. But somehow you’re turning this onto me and criticizing me for trying to help. I can’t believe you.” Tears spill down her flushed cheeks, and she covers her face with her hands.
Our family is like a musical nursery mobile. Hanging above the crib of life, small, perfectly balanced animals circle securely to the calming, repetitive lullaby. The homeostasis is alluring as long as no one shifts. It’s a system that hides and protects me well. But if someone removes their piece, the system destabilizes.
“Molly.” Seething, I wait for her gaze to find mine. “It’s not about you. You have served me sacrificially. I’m saying maybe it’s time for both of us to let go a little and see who we are now. Without my life being about the accident all the time. And without your life being about holding me together at every turn.”
“It’s that easy for you, is it?” She grabs a napkin and pats tears from her cheek.
“No.” The microwave dings, and I open the door. “No, it’s not that easy for me. I’m terrified sometimes.” I walk the melted-butter bowl to the counter with the dough and stare at the ingredients. “But I also hold to a sliver of hope that if I lean in a bit ... risk ... maybe life has something else for me.” My voice cracks through the last words, and I look back to my sister.
“Do you mean Harlan?” Her face blanches. “You think he’s going to swoop in and save you?”
“This isn’t about Harlan.” I pound my fist on the granite, and my voice rises in anger. “Who isnot, by the way, a flaky actor slash YouTube star. It’s bigger than him. It’s everything. How long will I hide in my home? What do I have to offer now? What role do I play in this world?” As the words spew out of my mouth, I point to the window. “There are answers for me somewhere out there. And whether or not Harlan is part of those answers doesn’t matter.” My voice carries through the house, and I don’t care who it wakes. “I want to live. I want to participate in my own life. Do you hear what I am saying? I want to live. Again.”
Molly gapes, and for a few seconds she doesn’t respond. Before I know what she’s doing, she scurries over and wraps me in a suffocating embrace.
“I thought I’d lost you.” She whispers her teary confession into my ear. “Steve and the kids were gone, and then ... I thought I lost you too.”
A sob sticks in my throat. Maybe the mobile won’t collapse if I leave. Maybe the figures will find a new equilibrium, but they won’t fall apart.
While she clings to me, I hear the front door open.
“Hey, guys.” Harlan’s voice floats through the house, causing my insides to flutter.
Molly releases me, nods, and wipes her face. We both inch toward the door to peek into the living room. A post-run, sweaty Harlan leans over the back of the couch, rustling Taylor’s hair and giving a groggy Hannah a high five.
My sister sighs. “Heispretty.”
Harlan glances up and grins. “Morning, ladies.”
