Chapter 20

I WALK NOW. I gave up running after spending the afternoon cleaning my office. Luna left still heartbroken but hopeful about what comes next. Relapses are not only for substances but also for people, but she didn’t need to know that at the moment. All I can do is wait for her when she needs me.

The sun is already setting when my house appears in the distance. What could happen now that could send my already fucked up life overboard? There are questions I have to answer, and gazes I have to face.

I get in through the garage. The door’s open just like when everything began. Me arriving after an unfortunate encounter, having a bubbling panic attack stuck in my chest, getting angry about a door that was supposed to be closed.

I wonder if I’ll find Josephine inside cooking kebabs, my dad at the window looking at the rain. If Sonia would be in her room listening to whatever type of music she listens to or if Ben would be in the living room playing with Artie and rubbing Amanda’s belly. I don’t have a role in this happy scene that I’m playing in my head. Maybe I was the wrong thing in our story all along.

I swing open the door of my car. Before facing everyone, I need my soap. I need the dry texture against my finger tips, the citrusy scent filling me. But my hand doesn't reach the glove compartment before my phone starts to vibrate.

I hesitate to pull it out of my pocket. I don’t care who’s calling. I don’t want to see Ben’s name, Theo’s name. The only person’s name I want to see has asked me for time. But it doesn’t stop when the call finishes. It starts again.

Seeing my dad’s name on the screen unsettles me a bit. He doesn’t usually call, not unless it’s an emergency.

“Dad?” It’s embarrassing how desperate my voice sounds, as if anything can send me into panic mode. “Is everything alright?”

“Em, where are you?” His voice is calm, there’s no urgency nor pain. I let out a breath that I was holding back. “We are waiting for you to have dinner.” My dad sounds calm but that cannot mask the fact that he’s tired. I want to wipe his illness away.

How did they know? They knew I wouldn’t answer them but I’ll always answer my dad. I’ll answer him no matter what. My throat hurts as if I've been yelling at the top of my lungs. I wipe a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand.

“I’m looking for something in the car. I’ll be right there.” There’s a trembling on my lips that I manage to control for a moment.

“Wonderful, wonderful.” He laughs, a worn down version of what his laughs used to be. “We are waiting.”

I look in the mirror to clean the streaks off my face. I grab the soap bar to give it a deep sniff before leaving the car. As soon as I step inside the house, I’m shrouded with the scent of dinner. My cheeks get toasty when I start to walk towards the dining room.

My dad is at the head of the table in his wheelchair, dressed in his best sweater. Ben and Amanda are at his left side, talking lively while Artie sits on his high chair next to them. Sonia has replaced her messy bun with a high ponytail that showcases more tattoos on her neck and Josephine is in front of them, saving an empty seat next to my dad that I assume is for me.

When she looks at me, the air leaves my lungs. Her golden hijab makes her grey eyes glimmer with intensity. I don’t know how long I stand there at the threshold of a family that seems perfectly fine without me. Josephine enquiries with her eyes; she either wants me to sit next to her or wants me to announce that I’m here. I do neither because my dad lifts his arms slightly, as if he’s asking for a hug. I smile.

“Where’ve you been? I know you don’t like to cook but damn, you can help once in a while,” Ben demands when he’s aware of me. Amanda slaps his leg. “What?”

“Yeah, Ben almost burned the fucking house down,” Sonia says. I wait for Dad’s scolding but, surprisingly, he laughs.

It’s Ben who looks scandalised. “Is this what they teach you at Uni?” he asks, dramatising each word. “You used to be a lady, Sonny.”

“Yeah, because if I didn’t learn how to kick men in the dick, they would’ve eaten me alive.” Sonia takes a piece of what I think is salmon with her fork to her mouth. “I’ll kick yours too if you don’t leave me alone.”

“Come sit, have dinner.” I turn to Josephine when her voice is directed at me. There’s still wariness on her face but I do believe that she wants me next to her.

“Everything alright?” Amanda asks when I finally sit. “Where have you been? We didn’t call because we didn’t want to worry you.”

I take the plate of salmon that she hands me. “Oh, it’s fine. Thank you.” A plate with mashed potatoes follows. “I had a work-related emergency.” My plate is full now.

“I thought that you were taking a break.” Ben has loaded his fork with more than I think his mouth can take, but I won’t be surprised if he’s able to gobble up everything.

“Hence the emergency part.”

He just devours his food. Oh my God.

“We were worried.” Josephine says next to me. It’s the first time that I dare to look at her this close. “I was…” There’s a brief moment where her eyes are tender, like they were before this morning’s incident. She looks back at her plate.

“I’m fine.” I whisper.

The dinner goes smoothly, with Sonia telling us about her grade project and how much she has to move around. The men in her career don’t like her. She says they weren’t expecting a loud mouth back talker that doesn’t respect them. I exchange looks with Amanda, Josephine, and Sonia. We know why they don’t like her and her manners don’t have anything to do with it. Artie makes us all be quiet for a moment because he needs to sing a song he has learned at nursery and because he’s my nephew, I melt completely at his performance.

When everyone is getting ready to take the dishes and glasses back to the kitchen, Dad stops us for a moment. The silence wraps us all together.

“I would like to have a chat with my kids,” he says and we all stay still, not knowing what to do.

Amanda lets Artie out of his high chair and tells him to bring what is left of the cake back to the kitchen; she will let him take an extra piece. The dish leaves my fingers as Josephine takes my plate from my hand. I look at her and she can see I’m not ready for whatever is going to come next. She squeezes my hand.

Sonia has sat down again. This time, she brings her feet up on the chair, pressing her knees against her chest. Ben has slowly returned to his seat too. I’m still standing a few steps away from the table. My dad looks at me as if he’s waiting for me to sit next to him so he can start.

I know exactly what he wants to talk about. How do I tell him I’m not ready? That I’ll never be ready for what he thinks is the inevitable end of his life? He reaches his open palm to me, inviting me to his side. A silent drop escapes the corner of my eye. It comes effortlessly. The tears slide from my lids, with nothing to stop them from their freefall. I wipe them away aggressively as I walk to take my dad’s hand.

“It’s fine, bird,” he says, his eyes glassy. “I’ve comforted you from many nightmares before.”

This talk is my biggest one.

“I want nothing,” Sonia says and I find myself sitting next to my dad. “I don’t even want my name in your will, Dad.”

“Sonia…” Ben warns. His voice is tight in his throat. “It’s not your will. And it’s not something we get a say in.”

“I don’t care. I think it's awful. I’m not ruining our already ruined and patched-up relationship because of money or stuff.” Sonia doesn’t see it but I do. I see her just like she was when she was fourteen and would hide in her closet when she was upset, knees against her chest, chin over her knees.

“Why would we ruin our relationship? It’s not up to us what happens next. Dad will tell us what he’s going to do and we will stick to it. That’s it.” Now I notice too how much Ben has grown up. The weight of looking after our family and his family, the guilt of leaving us behind, is starting to show under his eyes. For now, even if he sounds upset, his shoulders are relaxed.

“Can I talk?” my dad says. I hold on to the hand he offered me moments ago. Ben lets his hands rest on his lap while Sonia tightens her hug around her legs. “It’s good to know I didn’t have to say much for you to understand what this reunion is about.” He chuckles. “And I’m glad to hear you don’t want to lose this connection with your siblings now that you are together after Mum.”

“Well, if you are so glad, please do us a favour and don’t put me in the stupid will.” Sonia stands so fast I barely notice that she has knocked the chair back.

“Sonia!” Ben calls her out but stops when he sees Dad’s hand on the table.

“Please…” There’s a plea on Sonia's lips. A quiver. “Dad, I’m asking you this, just this one thing.” Tears form in her lashes. They are already staining her cheeks with black mascara. “Promise me, Dad.”

My dad grins at her and it’s almost too hard to watch how much he still sees us as little kids. There’s devotion in his eyes: he doesn’t see Sonia’s tattoos or buzzed head. He sees her freckles and ginger wavy hair, her bony knees and long limbs running through the park.

“I promise, Sonny.” I’m surprised at how steadily that comes out of his mouth.

“Good.” Sonia’s voice breaks. “So I don’t need to be here.” She storms out, just like when Ben got to choose the bigger room, just like when Mum passed.

Is just the three of us, Ben in front of me and my dad at the top of the table. I’m afraid the next one to leave will be Ben but he doesn’t. He moves his chair closer to the table and grabs Dad’s hand.

“You know…” he starts, “I can’t keep that promise.” I’ve been crying all this time and I’m unable to say a single word. “Alright? She’ll understand.”

I don’t want to talk about it either. I don’t want to talk about how much money there is, what he's leaving behind. I don’t want to talk about papers, about mortuaries or coffins. I don’t want to be technical with my dad. Not right now.

“We don’t have to do this,” I spit, looking from my dad to Ben. “As in, right now. We can… I mean.”

My dad squeezes my hand.

“The thing is, we have to,” he says. “But I understand what you mean. We won’t talk about what you guys have to do when the time comes. You’ll know. You’ll figure it out if you don’t. I just need a moment with you three, because I need to ask you something.” He sighs and it’s the first time since Mum died that he looks so… fragile. “I need you to be a family. I need you to take care of Sonia. I need you…” he turns to Ben, “to take care of your sisters. And you…” he says to me, “to take care of your siblings. I need Sonia to take care of you two. I guess I’ll find a moment to talk with her.”

A beat passes and I catch his eyes wandering. We don’t have many pictures, but the ones we have are an intrinsic part of our lives. Next to the dining room door, there’s a stool. On that stool, a golden frame holds five people. A woman holding a ginger baby, two kids fighting over a map, and a man kissing his wife. It could have been taken in Copenhagen, Ibiza, or Perú. I don’t remember.

“We… we’ve done great things, haven’t we?” He lets out a chuckle mixed with a cry. “We weren’t the best parents in the world. But we did our best and there’s not a single day that passes that I’m not proud of you three. Imagine how smart you would’ve been if I wouldn’t have let your grandpa take you to the park and drop you from the slide.”

Ben lets an ugly laugh out when dad ruffles his head. He grabs his hand and kisses the back of it.

“And you, my little Emma. I wish I’d have been at least half as good as you are. In everything. I’ll be forever grateful for everything you and Josephine have done for me. Thank you for letting me rest in your house.”

I sob uncontrollably, clutching my fathers hand. If I dare to let go, he might vanish into thin air without me being able to say something back. I want to tell him I’m the one whose grateful for my wonderful childhood around the world, for the shelter that Mum and him provided and took care of, for the post-nightmare hugs, for the car rides, for the music, for picking up my broken heart when I appeared at his door one cold morning with nothing but the clothes I was wearing. For putting his pride aside and letting me take care of him because it was the bare minimum I was able to do. I want all this to come out of me, but there’s only weeping.

I feel Ben’s arms around me, and my father’s chest against my cheek. It soothes me, having them close. I wish Sonia was here too.

“I think I’ll never be able to say goodbye,” I finally say. My dad grabs my face between his soft palms and smiles at me.

“But, my darling, we don’t need goodbyes.”

THE TRUTH IS: my father’s dying, my fiancée mistrusts me, my brother’s trying so hard not to let his problems be seen, my sister keeps a distance between us, and my ex-boyfriend hasn’t texted me in days.

I have to admit, the latter is a blessing. Even when I have this old familiar pain in the middle of my chest.

My dad talked with Sonia alone but I wasn’t there to know how it went. I couldn't bear to be in this house. I needed the time Josephine was asking of me. I’ve been running every evening since. No matter the snow or the rain. Running without destination, listening to the type of music I stopped years ago because it was too painful to do so. Running was always my escape, only now, I know what I’m escaping from.

Josephine hasn’t asked me to sleep on the couch, thankfully. She has been talking to me in bits. It hurts but I understand. It must be hard to realise you don’t know a big part of your significant other’s life. I don’t know how to explain why I kept it to myself. I could tell her and hope for the best. But I’m not ready to see her go if it comes to it.

“You’re sad.” Artie pulls me out of my head. I’m sipping tea from my mug. His parents are having a night out for no reason other than, sometimes, taking care of a toddler twenty-four-seven is exhausting. “You are sad a lot.”

He stands in front of me while I’m curled up on the sofa. We are almost at the same eye level. I smile at him.

“Why do you say that?” I arch my brow, wondering what he sees that makes it so easy to point out my mood.

“You think a lot.” He says. I’m a bit lost. “I’m here. I’m playing with the cars Aunt Jo gave me and you are not playing with me. I don’t want to play when I’m sad. I just think.” Kids are smart, but somehow, I’m surprised by his thought process. His blue eyes see right through me and, to be honest, I don’t really mind.

“Why do you get sad?” I ask as a habit. Answering with more questions.

He looks down to his adorable dinosaur socks. He keeps quiet for a moment. As I start to worry, he leaves his toy car on the floor and climbs next to me, his little feet dangling at the edge of the sofa. He keeps his head low.

“Artie?”

A little sigh leaves his mouth, almost too amusing for me to ignore. I don’t laugh though. I want him to know I take him seriously.

“Everyone says I should be happy to be the big brother.” Ah. I know exactly where this is going. “But I don’t want to be the big brother.”

“Why not?” I rub his back to ease his feelings. “Being a big brother is an important thing. Like your dad. He’s the big brother.”

“I don’t want to be a big brother like Papa, he was a bad big brother.” He gets upset after saying this, almost as if he’s going to cry.

“Why do you say that?” I see him shrink as though he doesn’t know if he should tell me. I keep rubbing his back. “I won’t tell. I promise.”

Artie looks at me and his blue eyes are gleaming with tears that won’t become drops quite yet. He gets closer to me, bringing his lips as close to my ear as he can. “Dad says he left you once and he was a bad brother because of that.”

My heart stops. Did Ben tell Artie that? Did Artie just happen to hear him talking with Amanda?

“That’s why Mama and Papa want to come all the time, so he can be a better brother. But what if I’m a bad big brother? What if Mama and Papa stop loving me because I’m a bad big brother?” He pouts, warning me of imminent crying. I hug him and some of his sadness trespasses to me. I want to cry too.

“Hey… Listen, young man.” He wraps his arms around my neck and buries his face in the hollow of my neck. “Your dad is an amazing big brother, the best big brother who comes and makes dinner for us, takes us to have lunch sometimes, and takes care of all of us even if he feels a little helpless himself. He’s a good big brother. He always has been.”

It’s the first time I believe in my own words. They come out of me so easily. I have a moment to think about all the things Ben has been doing for us, how much he has been trying to keep us together and somehow to prepare us for what we know is inevitable. I missed my brother, I really did, and I’m so glad he’s back. I shush and kiss Artie’s head. I’ve seen Amanda do this many times. It soothes him and somehow it soothes me too. I don’t remember how long Artie and I cuddled on the sofa, nor when we fell asleep.

I only feel Jo’s hand on my cheek waking me up, the weight of Artie between my arms. When I finally open my eyes, Jo is in front of me and Ben and Amanda are behind her.

“I see you guys are having a good time,” Ben whispers right before he scoops his son from my hands. “Thank you,” he says and grins. Before he turns away, I grab his forearm and squeeze it.

“Thanks to you, Ben.”

He looks confused for a moment, but lets it go.

“Thank you, Emma,” Amanda says, placing a blanket over little Artie. I smile at her. I like her for my brother. I like her in general; she’s a good woman.

After they leave, Josephine waits for me in the kitchen. She’s making tea, and there are two mugs placed on the kitchen island. It means time’s up. I walk to the kitchen with caution as if it’s still too fragile for me to say something. I sit on a stool and wait for her to notice me.

“I heard Artie crying,” she says, pouring tea in both mugs.

“Oh.” I shield myself, one arm crossing my body, the other hand playing with my necklace. “Yes, he was a little bit sad about the big brother situation.”

Josephine raises her brows, sliding one mug toward me. “Is he jealous?” She sips her tea.

“Oh no. It’s… it’s a little bit more complicated than that. But then again, nothing is simple in this family.” I let out a chuckle. Jo doesn’t smile back.

“I’ve been talking with Sonny,” is the last thing I was expecting to hear, just because it’s so random. “Since I cannot get information from you, I have to look for it somewhere else.”

I let a sigh go. “Jo…”

“It's fine, she didn’t say much. At least not anything I didn’t know.”

“You don’t have to look anywhere. You can ask me.”

“That’s the thing, right? I should know these things. I always expected you to tell me about them. I guess I found myself so comfortable with you, so loved, that I never cared to know more about what hurt you. I never asked you. I even forgot there was a past before you and me.”

“And I wanted it to keep it that way.” I don’t intend my voice to sound this needy, it just comes out like this when it’s Jo. “I wanted to keep it just you and me. I didn’t want to think about a past in which I wasn’t totally immersed in your existence, Josephine. When I met you, you were so… you were golden, so precious I didn’t want to stain what we had with tragedy. It felt wrong.”

“Life doesn’t work like that, babe.”

“But I wanted it to.” My hand leaves my necklace and rests on the island, waiting, yearning for her to reach out but she doesn’t. “I wanted it for us, Jo. I’m sorry.”

There’s a silence in which she turns around and gives me her back. She leans on the island. I’m helpless. Everything I thought I had under control is finally slipping through my fingers.

“Then prove it,” she whispers before turning around. “Tell me everything.”

And I do. I guess if she’d have asked me to pull the moon down for her, I’d have found a way to do it. I tell her. I tell her about St. Barts, about the age gap, about the nights I’d sneak out of my house, the stolen kisses in empty halls and sex in dark rooms. My eating disorder, my drug abuse, my problem with alcohol, the night I almost died, the worst thing I’ve ever done.

But I don’t tell her she already knows the person who caused all of it. I'm this close to losing her.

I won’t have it.

I wipes away tears I hadn’t known I’d shed. She wanted to take care of them, I know for the way her fingers flinched in eagerness. I wish I’d let her, I want her to touch me.

“I wish I’d known,” she says after a while of being silent, the two of us curled up in our bed. She holds me like she’s shielding me from the external world. I like it here, between her arms. There’s no place I’d rather be. “I would’ve understood. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve always loved you, from the very first time I saw you. Your high profile, so powerful and contrasting in your small frame. No one dared to contradict you, or question your decisions.”

“I was a stuck-up bitch,” I say back and she chuckles. “We acted like two hormonal teenagers around each other, having a secret crush on each other, waiting for the other to say something.”

“I loved every moment of it.” Her hand caresses my arm, up and down, and she knows exactly what she's doing. I don’t want her to stop though.

“I mean it,” I call her attention by catching her hand mid-stroke. “When I say you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She lifts my chin and I catch her grey eyes piercing through me. She makes me feel so small but so invincible at the same time. I never thought it could be possible. I’m always melting under her lips.

Only she’s able to erase every problem, every argument, with just the touch of her hand in the right places. The magic at the tip of her fingers loosens my clothes and my fears. My golden necklace against my pale skin marks me with her initial, seals the reality that I’m hers, am hers as much as she’s mine.

She stops and my body is scandalised at how her lips have left my naked chest and her fingers are caressing my tights up and down. She pulls away to look me in the eye.

“I want a family,” she says and I come back to the reality where I’m in our bed. Her body is over mine, her hand is grabbing my thigh as if I’m going to run away. “I want a child.”

Josephine never wanted to have a child. She loves kids. Teaching is her passion, Artie is her favourite nephew.

I have enough kids in my life I can treat as if they were my own, she’d always say if the topic would surface.

What changed? Why now? I don’t want her to do this just because she thinks it will help us.

“We will talk about it,” I say, because I really don’t know how to respond. It's not like I’m able to get her pregnant right now. Shit, if she keeps looking at me like that, I’d find a way.

“Fine…” she whispers before she lowers and trails her lips between my legs.

Fuck.

I’d get her pregnant if I could.