Chapter 21

NEW YEAR’S EVE has sent my dad into a reckless mood. In fact, he has been like that for some time now. I hadn’t noticed before but now the fear that the talk left opened my eyes. He has stopped taking his meds rigorously, takes longer baths, sleeps in, doesn’t want to go to his dialysis appointments, and makes a lot of special requests when it comes to food. Sushi for breakfast, waffles for dinner. It makes me skittish, but I can only argue so much with my old father.

Sonia’s more comfortable around me. She isn’t direct when something I say bothers her, so there are lots of sarcastics remarks and middle fingers but to be quite honest, it feels better than cold shoulders and forced hugs.

“You forgot to say Uno, you little bitch,” Sonia says as she draws five cards from the Uno deck and tosses them to Ben.

“The rules don’t go like that!” Ben objects while grabbing the cards anyway.

“That’s literally the only rule I know by heart.” She plays her turn. I’m waiting for them to finish arguing, exchanging looks from one to the other. They’re possibly the funniest people I’ve ever known. “The other ones, everyone bends to their will.”

“Uno,” I whisper and I show the back of my only card. “I’m showing it to you two so I don’t get called a little bitch.”

Ben’s cards fall from his hand, sending Sonia and I into hysterical laughter. It’s possible he has half of the deck.

“Where’s Amanda and Artie?” Sonia asks. “Is she bringing cake?”

“They are at the hairdresser. Artie wants to look presentable for today's party.” He quotes the word with his fingers.

“He’s such a sweet boy,” I say. “He’ll be an amazing brother.”

“Because of his haircut?” Sonia arches a brow as she lets a card fall. “Uno.”

“No, pass.” I don’t have one card anymore. “Because he’s considerate and nice, and feels like this is an important thing with the family and wants to look his best. Ben would’ve rather died than get ready for Aunt Georgia’s parties.”

“I hated Aunt Georgia’s parties. They were awful.”

“He’s sensitive and picks up on things fast.” I look at Ben and give him a grin. “He’s lovely. You and Amanda are good parents.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, unbothered. “At least he’ll be a better brother,” he lets out when he’s finally able to throw down a card. He doesn’t say than me. But it could have easily filled the silence that follows like a blank space..

“Yes.” Sonia doesn’t hesitate while I look for the right thing to say.

“Sonia!” I scold her. She only shrugs and draws a card. “Don’t say that, Ben.” I squeeze my brother’s arm, hoping to reassure him.

“No, really. Let me say it because it is true.” He places all his cards face down on the kitchen island. “I don’t want to act like I don’t owe you both an apology.”

“Ben…”

“Let him.” Sonia raises her voice, calling my attention. We have all stopped playing. “Let him say it, let him apologise. You might’ve received one but I didn’t.”

I don’t remember if I did. All the time he’s spent in this house, all the attention he’s given to Dad, the meals he cooked, the movies we watched. It feels like he already has. I don’t really care about an apology anymore,

“I'm sorry,” he says. Sonia doesn’t look fazed, but the way his voice shapes the words is heartbreaking. “I’m sorry I left you when Mum died. I’m sorry I took off and I couldn’t be as strong as I should’ve.”

“None of us were…” I chime in so he knows I understand. “We reacted in different ways.”

“But I was the oldest. Dad was counting on me and I let him down too.” His voice is steady but his face couldn’t be further from calm. There’s a glimpse of pity on Sonia’s face but it lasts just a second. “It won’t happen again.”

It won’t happen again. Four words that hold so much meaning. I’m scared and in pain, but relieved to know that Ben won’t leave again.

“Good,” Sonia says as she hops off the stool and throws her last card on the table, winning.

I get mad. I get so mad at her attitude and the way she dismisses other’s feelings and efforts to make things better. I get up from the stool. Without measuring my next move, I go after her until Ben grabs my arm, turning me to face him. He looks so calm.

“Let her,” he says, making me angrier.

“Why? Why is she always getting away with being the way she is? Hell, Mum and Dad were incredible parents, but they would’ve kicked our arses if we’d have appeared with a septum piercing during dinner. Why does she have the privilege to be an insolent brat?”

“Let her, Emma,” Ben repeats. “She’s hurting because we all abandoned her.”

I flinch at how Ben says the last sentence without a shadow of a doubt. “What?”

“Emma. The way you felt about me leaving? Sonia felt the same way, not just about me but about you not asking her to stay, sending her away and taking Dad with you. She was left alone by all of us. I didn’t realise I hurt the two of you, and you don’t realise you hurt her.”

The room starts to spin and I have to grab the kitchen island. “I didn’t…” I cannot form one sentence; there’s too much I want to say. “I thought she wanted to leave. She had her career, her friends. She didn’t seem affected by Mum’s death. I thought she wanted…”

“Well, she didn’t. And even if she wanted it, we should have made her stay, at least for a while.”

My life is a mess, and it took a series of unfortunate events for me to realise that, in some ways, I’m the one at fault. It stings like a paper cut: first, it’s just the fear of the sudden, sharp slit waking you up. Then, there’s the constant and uncomfortable pain reminding you it’s there, you cannot ignore it now.

“Hey… I understand.” Ben places his hand over my forearm and, instead of feeling understood or grateful for his words, that bubble grows inside of me again. I’m angrier than I’ve been in a long time. I take my arm away.

“No.” I shake my head, and my face contorts with disapproval. “I’m not, I’m not like—”

“Like me?” He cuts me off and I wish I could make him disappear. I don’t want Ben and his patronising eyes looking down on me.

My house is not my own anymore. There’s nowhere I could go and hide. My dad’s in bed, Josephine has an online school meeting in our room, I cannot hijack the dining room, and I have one foot in the living room and the other in the kitchen. My eyes move in desperation, trying to find somewhere to run.

“Don’t worry,” he finally says, pushing all the cards from his spot. “I have to pick up Amanda and Artie.” He gets up and this should be the moment where I say something but I don’t want to. I don’t feel like it.

He nods to me again. “Let me know if we are still invited for dinner.” It feels like another kick.

Why would he say something like that? He really thinks I’d call everything off over a stupid fight. He’s said and done worse things to me than tell me I’m a horrible sister. The simple fact he thinks so poorly of me makes me want to tell him to not come anymore but I keep quiet until I hear the door closing behind me.

My cheeks are burning. I throw all the cards off the kitchen island in rage. Why? Why does it always come back to me? Why can't I grieve in peace? Everyone always finds a way to blame me for all my suffering and all I want to do right now is suffer without remembering I’m a terrible partner and an awful sister.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sonia’s voice manages to drive me over the fucking wall.

“No,” I spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I’m driven by anger as I find myself facing her judgy blue eyes. “Who do you think you are? You think you can come over to my house, treat me and your older brother like shit just because you don’t have the fucking nerve to work on your shit? Fuck you.”

She wears a smug smile that makes me want to slap it off her face, but I’m paralysed by anger.

“Do not project your shit onto me.” Her face still wears a judgemental mask. She nods like something is becoming clear in her head. “You know what, I thought I could do it. Come here and pretend we were one big happy fucking family but I can’t. I don’t regret it though. At least I was able to say goodbye to Dad and talk to him before you pricks abandoned me again.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Grow the fuck up. You’re a woman, not a child.”

“Funny, ’cause you were a woman too when Mum died, but you still held so much shit against Ben for doing the same as you.” There’s silence before she lets out a chuckle, attention caught on her spiderweb-patterned socks. “You know what your fucking problem is, Emma Lamb? You think so highly of yourself. You think you don’t need help, that because you are a shrink, you have all your shit together. But I can see right through you. And your shit is about to hit the fan.”

I hop off the kitchen stool and walk up to Sonia. I’m taller just by an inch, but that doesn’t make her back up.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” It comes out a little louder than what I intended. “Get out!”

“My fucking pleasure,” she whispers before we hear another voice behind us.

“What’s going on?” Josephine has one hand on her chest and the other placed against the wall.

“Don’t worry, Jo.” Sonia walks away from me. “I’ve just been evicted by my sister.”

“What? Sonia, wait!” Jo calls as she gets lost down the hall. “Babe?” She turns to me, waiting for an answer.

I want to say something but if I do, there are only two likely outcomes. I’ll snap at her or I’ll cry.

The garage.

I sprint out the hall to the garage’s door. There, inside my car, is my soap. A space I can just crawl in and shut down everything around me. It has to go away before I lose my mind again. I bring my legs to my chest after I get the soap out of the glove compartment, my chin resting over my knees. This soap has been with me for so long. It already has the indent of my thumb and index finger, its scent, so different from the Dove one that causes nausea, now mixed with my sweat and perfume. I hear Jo calling my name, but it feels like static noise trying to make its way through my brain. The space in my car becomes wider, a void where only me, my breathing, and my mistakes exist.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I fall asleep and I wake up to Jo’s nails tapping on the window. The tear streaks are dry on my skin. I catch a glimpse of my face before turning to my fiancée, who has deep concern in her eyes. The silence is interrupted by the sound of the window rolling down.

“Hey…” Eating disorders ruin you in many ways. I'll never be able to cry in peace without my voice sounding like claws against a blackboard after doing so. “What time is it?”

“Half-past six.” I’m relieved to hear the softness in her voice, even when I thought she’d blame me for what happened. “I called Ben. He told me what happened.” What could I say to that? Yeah, I know I suck, I’m sorry for ruining tonight. “Sonia’s staying with him. I don’t think she’ll come tonight.” I shrug and she sighs. “Listen, whatever is happening right now, we’ll figure it out, alright? Let’s try to give your dad a nice gathering as much as we can.”

I nod as I open the door of the car and hug her. Why did I even run away from her when this is the only place where I’m safe and understood? Why can’t I get my life in control again? I kiss her cheek before parting. She’s holding some envelopes and catches me staring.

“Christmas cards. I guess some are from your colleagues.” She hands them to me before stroking my cheek. “Let’s get inside and get ready.”

She trusts me to follow, but I stay there for a moment, looking through the cards. Some are from long distant relatives and others from old colleagues that I can barely remember—except for one. Dr Holmes’s signature, long and polished, looks back at me and intrigue grows in my mind. I shove the card in my pocket.

Ben will arrive at any moment to start cooking. Amanda will arrange the dining room with her beautiful motherly glow while Jo stares at her, wishing I could give her that. Artie will ask for his Aunt Sonny while my dad tries to explain to him she had to go. Both of them will end up watching telly with gloomy eyes. And I’ll be there, pretending I don’t hate myself for snapping today, the night my dad was excited for. I blew it up.

I lock the bathroom door. The bathtub starts to fill while I sit on the toilet, letting the steam cover me. Before getting in the tub, I catch a glance of my naked reflection in the mirror. My hair has grown about four inches, which is not much, but it's enough for me to feel different. My freckles trail from my neck down to my chest, interrupted by a keloid scar that crosses over my chest. Jo’s necklace sits against the different textures of my skin. I don’t feel like me at all. Maybe I’m not me anymore.

A buzz from my phone startles me and seeing Theodore’s name sends my heart up to my throat fast enough to make me kneel in front of the toilet. Nothing comes out of my mouth but I’ve grown abrasive to that feeling; the same feeling I used to have years ago when he’d disappear from my life and then appear again. My mind goes back to Dr Holmes’s card. I just need to send one email, one thank you card to confirm what I guess I already know. It won’t be the most professional email I’ve ever written but it’s enough to get an answer.

THE NIGHT FEELS uncomfortable at first. Amanda is trying hard to cheer everyone up with wine and sparkling water even though she cannot drink herself. Artie plays on the rug in front of me, unbothered with the evening. Dad’s in the kitchen with Ben. My dad is commanding him, telling him he’s cutting something wrong or washing the vegetables too much. They throw snarky comebacks at each other, just for fun. Josephine is still putting up some decorations and fixing the table when Amanda joins her.

I sit on the sofa, cross-legged, one hand across my stomach, the other one grabbing a white wine flute. On the outside, looking in.

I haven’t replied to Theo’s text. I haven’t even read it but I’ve been refreshing my email like crazy, waiting to see Dr Holmes’s reply. Apart from that, there’s a lingering annoyance from what happened earlier. It was supposed to be a great night and I ruined it.

Artie climbs the sofa and makes his unapologetic way to rest his ginger head over my lap. I have to uncross my legs to let him. He’s not looking at me, just scrutinising a toy car he was playing with. I don’t ask questions; there’s no need to. He lets me run my fingers through his freshly cut curls.

“I miss Aunt Sonny,” he finally says and I almost stop caressing him. “I wish she didn’t have to study so she would be here at the party with us.” He’s talking about some made up explanation his father gave him. I press my lips together.

“Sometimes, it is what it is.” I take a sip of my wine as Josephine and Amanda walk in from the dining room. Her eyes fall to my glass and the half-smile she was wearing vanishes. She doesn’t say a word but the way her feet quickly change directions and start to walk back to the kitchen is enough to know that she doesn’t appreciate my petty drinking.

There’s a sour taste in my mouth. I cannot shake the idea that it comes from inside. I’m giving cold responses to Artie, fixing my whole attention on the glistening my glass produces every time the ceiling light hits it.

“Is the dinner ready?” Artie gets up from my lap when his father approaches us. There’s caution on his face, his hands casually resting inside his pockets.

“Yes, mate.” Ben’s voice is soft. He pulls Artie up and lands him standing. “Go help your mother and Aunt Jo.” There’s a smack on Artie’s butt before he runs off giggling.

I don’t look at my brother. I’m still looking straight into the open kitchen, Jo and Amanda chatting and laughing as if they’ve been friends their whole life. I’m bitter.

“Since when?” Ben’s finger clinks my flute with his finger, pulling me out of my intrusive thoughts. “I thought you quit it.”

I finish the last trace of wine with a flick of my wrist. “I’m not getting drunk by having a glass.” The glass ends up sitting on the coffee table in front of us.

His weight disturbs the stillness of the sofa when he sits next to me. I want to shoot him a confrontational comment but I'm too tired to even try.

“I suppose the conversation with Sonny didn’t turn out for the best.”

“You think?” I’m not even mad at Ben anymore but, for some reason, I don’t want to give in to his jokes, nor do I want to act as if nothing has happened. There’s a feeling inside me that wants me to be a jerk, especially today.

“We should call her.” Ben tries to reach for his phone.

“I’m not doing that, Benjamin. Not anymore.”

“Please, Emma. Don’t act like you’ve been doing it for years.”

“Still.”

“Fine.” He gets up. Looks like I struck a nerve. Good. “Come and have dinner at least. Let Dad have a somewhat normal holiday.”

The mentioning of my father makes a rush of guilt run through my body. Ben has left and the last person I see at the dining room’s threshold is Josephine, who has stopped to check up on me.

“Will you keep it together for tonight?” I’ve never heard her voice this serious. A feeling that I don’t know her anymore goes through me and scares me enough to nod.

“Good.” Her eyes soften a little bit, sending some relief over me. She extends her hand, offering it to me so we can go together.

I get up from the sofa and walk to her until I’m able to touch her. Her fingers intertwined with mine. “Good,” I repeat. I’m behaving. I’m not ruining this anymore than I already have.

My fiancée leads me to have our New Year’s Eve dinner and I leave my phone abandoned on the sofa.