Chapter 17

I HAVEN’T SEEN the office in two weeks. Christmas came as a saviour for all of us. There were mixed reactions from my patients. Some of them were relieved, like Edward. Others were devastated, like Ms Wlosok. And one of them hasn’t called or texted since the last time he was here.

Ben and I let go of our dispute but the feelings I had about Sonia’s arrival haven’t changed. She’ll be arriving soon and all I want is peace for all of us—something that Amanda’s big batch of gingerbread and gifts has brought to this family today. We’ve been talking about the new baby with Artie, but he’s not thrilled about the idea.

“Why can’t it be another boy like me?” he asks while shaking the presents under the Christmas tree.

“Well, now you’ll get to be the big brother like your dad.” Josephine ruffles his ginger hair and sits cross-legged in front of him. “He’s Aunt Emma's big brother.”

“No, he’s not. Aunt Emma is the big one,” he says. I take this chance to arch my brow at Ben. “She always knows what to do,” he keeps going. Ben makes faces at me while hugging his wife from behind. “She’s very bossy too.”

My face drops and Ben laughs.

“I’m not bossy, little man. Stop that.” I am.

He points at me while searching for help from his Aunt Jo.

“Hmm…” She scrunches her nose. “She kinda is, isn’t she?”

It has been a different Christmas. A good one, I have to admit. Christmastime became devoid of its meaning after I left for Glasgow. We tried to celebrate as we did in our childhood but Mum’s passing ended it for good. For the past few years, we’ve spent Christmas eating Chinese takeout and watching movies.

Amanda insisted on baking and Ben insisted on cooking. It has been the most use our kitchen has had. They leave a mess behind. I won’t say it isn’t annoying but the way their food comforts us and brings us together is something worth all the dirty dishes in the sink.

I’ve been in a smooth recovery from my eating disorder for years now. Relapsing has become a rarity but my relationship with food is forever ruined and distorted thanks to all the meals I threw up.

I don’t hate food but it never tasted the same again. Until Ben and Amanda started to use the kitchen. The way they use food to show us gratitude and affection is what makes me enjoy a piece of cake. Fish doesn’t taste like cardboard anymore, nor does flour feel like cotton stuck in my throat.

My phone vibrates, and my heart skips a beat.

T: Merry Christmas.

I put my phone away.

“Well, I better go look for Sonny.” Ben parts from Amanda. “She clearly messed up her schedule and now can’t find a cab to—”

Ben’s rant is cut off by three loud bangs on the door. Josephine gets up but Ben jumps over the sofa and runs for the door before she can reach it. When he swings it open, I see the small frame of a girl with a side buzz cut and bleached hair. Her suitcase hits the floor next to her combat boots before she brushes the snow off her shoulders.

“I fucked up my schedule,” Sonny says, irritated. “I had to wait an hour for a stupid cab and this crap,” she throws her phone and it slides across the floor to Artie’s feet, “died on me.”

We’re all too stunned to talk. Maybe it’s the way we forgot how vocal she was or the way her face has more piercings than we remember. The silence shatters when my dad sighs.

“She’s here,” he announces and smiles at her. She gives a half-smile back. “My Sonny.”

Artie picks up Sonia’s phone and walks to her with his arms stretched out, offering her phone as a gift. She kneels in front of him, accepting it.

“Thank you, little mate.” She talks to him as if she has always known him.

“What happened to your hair?” Artie reaches to touch Sonia’s head.

“Didn’t your dad tell you?” She lets him. “I had to send some of it to him so he doesn’t go bald.”

Artie first looks confused but then his eyes fill with surprise. “Dad, why didn’t you ask me?!”

“You think I’d look good with ginger hair?” Ben plays along.

The image is too precious to describe. I pity anyone who doesn’t get to see how Ben wraps his arms around Sonia and lifts her inches from the floor. My dad’s joy when he takes her face between his hands, not minding all her hoops and studs. Sonia hugging Amanda and Josephine like they’re best friends. It’s all magical and perfect until she reaches me. A balloon pops in my face when she gives me a brief squeeze and asks for the bathroom.

Is the first time I realise how fragile our bridge is. Sometimes, time is not enough. Maybe we need more of it.

I take her suitcase to the guest room as I hear Ben telling her there’s leftovers in the oven. We saved a full meal for her, he just likes to get on everyone’s nerves.

“That finger, Sonia.” I hear the faint voice of my dad in the living room. My phone goes off again.

T: Did Santa bring you a present? 😉

I look down at Theo’s text. Weird emoji aside, I can’t help but think maybe Santa did bring me something; it’s just the present doesn’t want to be around me.

I wasn’t sure about Sonia coming but seeing her in the flesh moved something in me. I wish she would’ve hugged me the way she hugged everyone else. Suddenly, her cold indifference is way too real. Ben’s voice echoes in my head. Maybe he was right all along.

Sonia opens the door abruptly, making me drop my phone under her bed.

“Damn…” She closes the door behind her. “What’s up with you? Watching porn or what?”

As if being on my knees, reaching for my phone wasn’t embarrassing enough. “Sonia...” I sigh. I stand up, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from my trousers.

“I’m just kidding.” She kicks off her boots and falls onto the bed. “I’m super dead, but Dad won’t let me go to sleep without eating Ben’s secret meal. Sounds like a gross idea.”

I’m ashamed to say I’m not listening to her words. My first impression comes from all the tattoos she has on her belly. The second impression comes from her ribs and how much I can see them. How much it reminds me of what I used to keep track of in the mirror. Finally, her buzz cut brings flashes of a night I wish I could forget; it makes my chest tight and the food I ate threatens to leave me.

“Go on,” she says, propped up on her elbows. “Go ahead, put your mom mode on. I know you’re dying to.”

I shake my head as I pick up her boots and place them next to the door.

She’s right. I’ve been dying to point out her septum ring, the piercing on her Cupid’s bow, her tattoos and hair. But the fact she associates my negative traits with Mum makes me shove it all down.

“I’m not going to criticise you.” I cross my arms and look at her from the door. “I’m just surprised about how different you look, that’s it.”

“You’re full of crap.” It comes out as a whisper but I manage to understand. “Do you like it? Do I look just as cool as you did back in uni?”

I don’t know if it’s a genuine question or just sarcasm. I give her a straight smile as I open the door. “I wasn’t as cool as you say. And definitely not as cool as you look.” She rolls her eyes and lets herself fall back to the pillows again. “Please, eat something. You’re right. Dad won’t let you live and he won’t go to sleep if you don’t.” I want to tell her I won’t either. She places a pillow over her face.

“Fine.” She elongates the sound of the i. She will come out to eat eventually.

I glance back down at my phone.

T: Please answer. Was the wink emoji too much?

I can’t help but feel bad for him. He might not be spending Christmas with his daughter or his parents. I know it doesn’t concern me; the last time he was here, things went horribly and I’m letting myself get too invested. But it’s just a text. I’m just being a decent person.

E: It’s fine. I was quite busy. Merry Christmas.

I send the text and shove my phone in my pocket, promising to let it go. I wander out of the bedroom to see Ben carrying Artie and Amanda placing a blanket over them so they can get to their car. Jo’s picking up teacups from the coffee table in the living room. My dad kisses Amanda’s hand, and Ben instead places a kiss on my dad’s head.

I wave them goodbye from the hallway. The sensation of this being too delicate for me to be part of still lingers, everything unfolding like a movie in front of me.

A saucer of gingerbread biscuits lies on the floor. Maybe Amanda gave it to Artie but he was just too focused on the gifts under the tree. I take the saucer to the kitchen where Jo’s leaving the last teacups in the sink. I hop on a stool and place the biscuits on the kitchen island.

“What a night, huh?” I look down at the little gingerbread men with missing limbs. Jo’s hand finds my cheek.

“It was a lovely night.” Her lips meet mine. There’s still a trace of spiced tea on them. “I’m going to bed. I’m pooped.” She dramatises the last word.

“I’ll be right there.” I lower my voice. “ I want to make sure Sonia eats. You know…”

She smiles and lifts her hands, as if no explanation is needed. A wink lets me know she’ll be waiting. I pull out my phone out of habit. There’s another text from Theo waiting.

T: Thanks. Family?

E: Yes, but they’re gone already.

T: I spent it with Molly.

It takes me by surprise and I also feel stupid. I was already imagining him alone in his apartment. It was the sole reason I texted him in the first place. At the same time, there’s a bit of relief.

E: That’s great. How did it go?

T: Her mother called me and invited me to spend it with them.

My feelings turn at the mention of Zoe. My relief turns sour. Why doesn’t he call her by her name? It’s obvious something’s happening there.

E: !!!???

I delete the text: too casual, too friendly. I don’t need to make things more complicated.

E: How was it?

T: It was fine, actually, I’m sleeping on their sofa. It was too late to leave so she told me I should stay.

The only thing I know is I don’t fucking know why I’m like this right now. How is the same woman who pushed him into a ridiculous deal a month ago asking him to stay at her place now? Is it the intentions behind her request that makes me mad? I know those intentions.

E: You know she’s waiting for you in her room, right?

My phone screen dims without an answer and I leave it to go completely black.

I grab a gingerbread man and eat it in annoyance, thinking he maybe just needed someone to read the clues for him and now he’s entering her room in the middle of the night. I shouldn’t care. If anything, I should be glad they might have a chance to have a normal family, no more restrictive parenting, no more therapy, nor Chase being moved around between houses. Why do I even care about the dog anyway? I should be fine with it. I’m fine with it.

My phone lights up.

T: How do you know that?

The five words increase my annoyance. How can he be this blind? This facade of being oblivious is going too far. He likes to play dumb for the sake of it. I wonder if I’m bold, will he he dare to play dumb? If I push him to the edge, will he explode?

E: That’s what I’d do.

And when it's out in the world, when the word read appears under the message, I freeze. The brightness of the screen lights up my face. Three dots appear and I can’t lock my phone fast enough.

T: Can I call you?

I’m always saying I can be a bitch. This is the time to be one.

Emma, get your shit together.

I know I have what it takes to be a spiteful arsehole. It’s not hard. What’s hard is to be a good person to Theo, to have empathy and emotional responsibility with him. That’s very hard. I should call it quits and go to sleep and never text back, but the image of Zoe waiting for him in a pitch-black room makes me take the other path.

E: fine.

Not a second passes when I have an incoming call from him. I watch as my phone sends vibrating waves through my hand, weighing the consequences of my decisions. I should’ve chosen to be an arsehole.

“Hello.” I lose my usual querying intonation at the end, since I know who’s on the other side.

“Hi.” It should be weird to have these silences between greetings but it has become part of our dynamic. “Merry Christmas.”

“You already said that,” I point out with every intention to make things awkward.

“I wanted to say it out loud.” A chuckle comes from him. “How was your evening?”

“Not as good as yours, I believe.” I need to make this awkward enough so he hangs up on me.

“Isn’t your wife asleep in your bed?” It’s the first time he’s called her my wife. “I had my daughter used as bait to have spiteful sex. And now I’m sleeping on a sofa that’s not as comfortable as my bed. So I don’t think my night is better than yours at all.”

“You really think it’s spiteful sex?”

“Emma…”

“What? I’m curious.” I try to sound as confident as I can. I can’t help but feel like a fake.

“We don’t… have much in common. Just Molly. We only have a cordial relationship. Well, at least, when she’s not trying to take me to court.” He laughs. I don’t.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that, Theo.”

“I know—”

“You don’t know me anymore. It really upsets me when you sound confident with statements like that.”

I came to the conclusion the scales will inevitably tip between us. One moment, we are jokingly teasing each other; the next, we are at each other's throats. It sets me off when he tries to claim that he knows me.

“Well, I’m trying to.” The way he says it feels like a punch.

“I’m sorry you have to spend the night on the sofa.” I need to redirect this conversation.

“It’s fine.” His voice changes as though we weren’t about to hang up on each other a moment ago. “Would you have breakfast with me? Tomorrow?”

I’ve seen what intimacy can do to him. But I still don’t know what it can do to me. I’ve been thinking too much about it. Could I be just friends with him? Can I forgive and forget just like my parents taught me once? Maybe I can. But it doesn’t feel like he just wants to be friends.

“I don’t know—”

“Who are you talking to?”

I jump on the stool when I catch Sonia’s shadow walking into the kitchen. Her bleached hair is up in a bun, and she wears an oversized sweater and socks.

“Oh, whoa, are you alright?” she asks me. I worry that my face says much more than what I want to.

“I’m fine.” I cover the phone with my hand. “A patient struggling with today’s holiday. I’ll be done in a moment.”

She just shrugs and walks to the fridge.

“We’ll have to finish this conversation at the end of the break. You’ll be fine. Goodbye.”

What the fuck was that? I can’t even pretend in front of my sister. I hang up before he can say something about it.

“Damn, way to treat a suicidal.” Sonia grabs a cup of chocolate pudding from the fridge.

“He wasn’t suicidal, just a bit anxious. He’ll be fine.” I leave the half gingerbread man back on the saucer and hop off the stool.

“You don’t have to leave.” She says without looking at me, playing with a teaspoon along the rim of the cup. “I mean, if you don’t want to. But if you want to go to sleep…”

“No, no. It’s fine.” The words leave my mouth in a rapid fire. I quickly return to the stool, eager to have any kind of connection with my sister.

She looks at me as if I’ve grown a third eye.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Yeah…” Her voice is vague, exactly how one sounds when they are not. I don’t push it. “Just… you know.” She shows me the indent she made on the pudding. “Hungry, I guess.”

“We saved a whole plate for you, not just leftovers. Ben can be a jerk sometimes.” We cackle. It’s amazing how it makes me feel a bit closer to her.

“I know. I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea. The flight made me gassy.” She grabs her stomach as I raise my eyebrow. “TMI?”

“I’ll survive.” There’s a glimpse in her eyes. a door half-open, the sun creeping in a little. The warmest beam touches my skin. “How are things back at uni?”

The door shuts.

“They’re fine. Bullshit most of the time. There’s misogyny dripping every-fucking-where. But that’s just the standard for women in STEM.”

“Someone’s giving you a hard time?” I would like to sound less like my mother and more like her sister.

“That’s quite a question.” She clicks her tongue, leaving the pudding on the counter. “Not really. Everyone is an arsehole.” I smile at her, knowing the door won’t open for a while again.

“You know, if you need something, you can tell me.”

She’s unbothered but at the same time, the warmth in her half-smile gives me hope.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. Just…” She starts to play with the cuff of her sleeves, looking down at her socks. “Don’t answer my texts like Mum used to do? Maybe?”

It hits me that she’s unaware of the way she just set a boundary with me. I’m glad and a little irritated at the same time. It’s not easy to be given boundaries, knowing you might have been doing something that hurt another person and they waited so long to tell you.

“I won’t. And I’m sorry.”

“She wasn’t…” She keeps playing with her sleeve until she looks straight back at me. “She wasn’t the same with me as she was with you or Ben. I wasn’t… She wasn’t that proud of me. So…”

“Sonia…”

“No, no. I’m serious this time. I learned to live with it and I’m fine. I’d like to not receive the same treatment now she’s gone.”

“Sonia.” This time her name sounds like an alarm going off.

“Emma,” she replies, dropping her sleeves and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry. I know you love her. I did too.” The contrast in tenses breaks something in me. “But you weren’t there to see how she was with me.”

“She loved you.”

“But I wasn’t you. Or Ben.”

“You didn’t need to be—”

“Look, I wish I could see it that way right now, but I can’t. I’m only asking you to stop becoming her every time you have an interaction with me. I don’t need Mum. I need my sister.”

She leaves me with words clinging from my lips and my hand against my racing heart.