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Anne leaned back in the passenger seat of her car while Derek took his shift during the long drive home. She had checked on Etta, passed out in the back seat, before speaking up.
“Do you ever feel as if you are a character in a book?”
Derek didn’t even glance at her, thinking his own thoughts when he asked, “Antagonist or protagonist?”
Softly, she answered, “Supporting cast.”
Turning his head slightly, he questioned her further.
“Well,” she drew out, using the hesitation to gather her thoughts coherently. “Sometimes, especially these last five years, it’s felt as if my entire purpose is to make things easier for my sisters and father. I’m in the background making certain that Father eats and that laundry gets done.”
Letting out a sigh, she quietly released her frustrations. “You’ve seen the laundry room in Mary and Charles’ place, right?”
“Yes?”
“They have been married three years now. Two children under the age of three.”
“I know that. Little Charles just had his second birthday and Baby Henry Walter is barely nine months old.”
“Hard to think that two and a half years ago I had to drop out of that Biology class. That class I didn’t even realize you were also taking.”
“I didn’t want you to know,” he admitted. “I usually turned around to talk to a classmate the second you walked in the room.”
“That’s really beside the point at this moment, isn’t it?” Anne retorted, glancing over at him again. “What’s done is done and can’t be undone.”
“What does this have to do with laundry rooms?”
“Mama taught my sisters how to wash their own clothes. Separate the whites from the colors. Don’t wash brand new reds with the whites because everything will turn pink.” Shaking her head, Anne left out a chuckle. “Mary tested that theory once. Bought a brand-new pair of red pants. Threw it in to wash with all of her underwear, white socks from assorted family members, a few of father’s white undershirts. The whole nine yards. Elizabeth was so pissed when she realized that all of her socks had been ruined. Mama just laughed, deducted the new clothes from Mary’s allowance, and made Mary wear all of the pink clothes she had ruined. Until Mary complained to Father a week later.”
Derek was too tired to laugh like he wanted to, but he also didn’t want Anne to strongarm him into letting her drive again. He remembered that she didn’t like driving in the dark. Besides, they would need to pull over soon to find someplace to stop. None of them were in the condition to continue driving.
“What happened next?”
“Mama got sick so I took over the laundry duties,” she answered, looking out the passenger window. “It was easier that way. Back then Elizabeth did her own part and Mary was only fifteen and couldn’t drive yet.” Shaking her head at the memory of giving Mary driving lessons during the younger girl’s Junior year was the last thing she wanted to think about at the moment. “At least Elizabeth handled the grocery shopping then.”
“I remember,” he interrupted, noticing the bitter tone Anne’s voice was starting to take. Reaching over, he placed a hand on her thigh, a habit they’d started so many years before. Realizing what he’d done, Derek jerked his hand back, uncertain if Anne was even aware that he’d attempted to comfort her. All he could see was her crossed arms and the blank stare she shot out the window.
“I came back from Chicago for Winter Break,” she whispered, not betraying her reaction towards his simple gesture. “The place was a mess. My sisters and father output more mess than the maid service could handle. There were warning letters about the disaster zone that had gone unopened on the counters along with bills and who knows how old sticky glasses of what used to be juice on the counters. I spent a week making the place presentable enough before the maid service was willing to return to the house. They hadn’t even noticed that the service hadn’t come to the house in six weeks.”
“Anne...” he whispered, uncertain what he could possibly say.
Looking at him, she continued, “The only time in my life I’ve felt as if I was more than a supporting character in my own story was that summer with you and that semester in Chicago. I returned that December and have been washing clothes and doing dishes and cooking meals and taking care of babies that aren’t even my babies ever since. At least with classes, I get a break.”
Sniffling, she returned her face to stare out the passenger window again, only offering Derek the back of her head.
“Anne...”
Shaking her curls, she said nothing. Just grabbed her purse and pulled out a ponytail holder. For the first time all semester – at least when she wasn’t working or coming in from her student teaching placement - he watched her pull her hair back into a bun. Admittedly, a messy bun, but it was considerably tamer than the curls she had let fly loose.
“No!” he loudly hissed, pulling over off of the road before removing the rubber band from her hair and throwing it out the window. “Don’t hide again. Don’t pretend to be that emotionless Anne who everybody relies on. Not with me.”
“Derek,” Anne sighed, shaking her head even as she refused to look at him. “I’m the supporting cast in this story. You heard Charles. It doesn’t matter how much we’ve been talking when the others have been focused on Isa’s pursuit of you.”
“Anne...”
“She’s been chasing after you for months and you haven’t rebuffed her. Probably because you didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout of actually rejecting Charles’ sister. I know you two are friends, but...” Drawing in a breath, “They all think that you are her boyfriend.”
“But Anne...” Derek tried to protest. “Anne, I...”
“No,” she whispered, pretending to focus on the scenery that she couldn’t see outside the window. “What I want doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered,” she bitterly spit out.
“And what about me? What about what I want?”
“It’s too late.”
They lapsed into silence as Derek pulled back onto the road, unaware that their quiet conversation hadn’t gone unheard by the person pretending to sleep in the backseat.
“I wish things could be different,” Derek whispered ten miles down the road.
“Me too,” Anne sighed. “We need to pull over and find somewhere to sleep soon. I don’t think either of us can finish this drive tonight.” Reaching for her phone where it had been charging, she started to look for the nearest cheap motel.
Etta, aware that she had been listening in on something private, something that only Anne and Derek could fully understand, started thinking back on the past six months. She knew Anne, mostly, and understood that she never was one for rocking the boat. It didn’t help that for several months Anne and Derek did not say a single word to each other.
Then she remembered something nobody else seemed to connect together. For years it had been whispered about. She’d even suspected Charles had attempted to use Anne’s breakup to his advantage, but he ended up married to Mary instead.
At eighteen Anne had gone through a really bad breakup that left her gutted. At nineteen Derek had proposed to his girlfriend and she had turned him down because they were too young. And there was a year age gap between the two of them.
They both referenced North Carolina. The Crofts referenced North Carolina. Cassandra Russell referenced North Carolina.
Derek would watch Anne from across the room when she was busy doing something. And Anne would do the same when Derek was helping Charles study.
There had been times over the last four months when she would notice them laughing or talking about something, only to move apart whenever somebody else came into the room. The look of disappointment that passed one of their faces whenever Isa interrupted them, purposely wedging herself between them or draping her legs over Derek’s lap.
It suddenly all made sense. Why Derek didn’t proclaim himself in any way towards Isa, treating her as if she was a younger sister more than anything else. Why Anne would frequently leave the room once Isa started trying to redirect Derek’s attention. The times Anne bailed on their plans, pretending she needed to study or take care of their nieces or nephews.
He’d picked her up and carried her to his sister’s car that time Anne had twisted her ankle, even as Anne protested that she could still make it to the house.
They hadn’t known it, but Etta had witnessed the entire event. She had even gone over to visit Charles only to make certain that Anne was okay. She liked Anne. She didn’t want Anne injured.
Only Anne didn’t return directly to the Musgraves house. A few hours later, Sophy Croft and Derek had brought Anne home. He had even helped her up the stairs, telling Mary that Anne had twisted her ankle and needed to rest it for a little while. He had made certain she had made it to her room before Mary asked Anne to do something.
It all made her think of something Charlie had once asked her. Even he had wondered why Anne took care of Mary and Charles’ children so much. Why she or Isa didn’t volunteer to babysit and give Anne a break from tending to children that were not her own.
No. Derek helped her out. Even when he wasn’t speaking to her, he had lifted Little Charles off of Anne’s back as she tried to change Baby Henry’s diaper. He had distracted the little boy while Mary, Isa, and herself were giggling upstairs over who knows what. Charlie had told her about that when they discussed the canceled date.
Oh, what have we done, Isa? she thought. Is it too late to fix it?
