“I doubt it,” Will said. “More likely, Mike will piss her off and she’ll throw him out on the street. She’s not the type to put up with anyone’s bullshit.”
That I had to agree with.
Thanks to them being there, things were more comfortable than before. Shannon and Spencer came over and talked. Even the twins tried to be sociable. Mom was a different story. She’d retreated to her room, and Dad made it clear that she was not to be bothered. Not that I was planning on it. I could imagine a fight happening, and today wasn’t the day.
Once everyone had left, Jack, Will, and Naya helped clean up. My good mood didn’t last long, because soon Dad came over and awkwardly said,“Jenny.” He cleared his throat and tried not to look at anyone else. “I’m not sure how to say this, but…it would be better if you didn’t spend the night here.”
Was he serious? Had Mom put him up to this? Could they not even bury the hatchet for one day?
Will and Naya stared at each other. Jack looked directly at my father with an expression that was hard to grasp.
“Are you kicking her out?” Shannon asked, indignant.
“I’m not kicking anyone out. I just think your mother needs some peace and quiet today.”
“Did she say that?” Spencer asked.
Looking exhausted, Dad went on, “It’s not about what she says. And it’s not about you. If you want to stay here, Jenny, that’s fine. But all these people…”
“I’m not kicking out my friends,” I made clear. My tone was cutting. Dad sighed.
“It’s just so we can have a little peace,” he said.
I could have exploded, but I felt Jack grab my arm. His expression was surprisingly calm. “We’re going back tonight anyway,” he told me. “And you can join us if you want.”
I can’t even begin to describe how much those words relieved me.
We finished cleaning up, said goodbye to Shannon and Owen, and got in Spencer’s car. He refused to let us get an Uber—he said a drive to the airport would help him clear his head. Jack sat up front with him, and the rest of us piled in the back. I was happy to leave, I admit it. I couldn’t wait to get back, shower, and rest. I felt as if I hadn’t slept in years. On the way, though, something occurred to me.
“Spencer, could you stop for a second?”
He knew why I was asking, and he had his doubts about it, I think. He gave me a long stare before parking in front of my grandmother’s place.
Will remarked that he didn’t want to be rude, but we were cutting things short for our flight. I assured him I wouldn’t be long.
Going back in there was a shock. I hadn’t ever been in there without her, and it was weird to find all the lights turned off. It felt so big, so empty. I crossed the vestibule into the living room, and for the first time I realized that there were dozens of photos of her sister and her grandkids, but not a single one of her. How could that have escaped my attention? In the kitchen, I found a bowl of dough in the fridge. Grandma had been getting ready to make a cake. I cleaned it out and washed it and left it in the sink.
Then I went upstairs to the bathroom, where I had left a hairbrush she’d lent me. It’s not that I needed it, but it felt important to me. I walked downstairs and sat on the couch. At some point, I started crying. I guess I wasn’t there that long, but it felt like ages that I clutched that hairbrush in the darkness. Finally, I walked out to the car, and no one said anything as we headed to the airport.
12
The Night of Truth
Getting back to the apartment was like waking from a bad dream. I was so happy to put some distance between me and my parents again. I didn’t cry when I talked about my grandmother, but there were days when it was hard for me to focus on anything. In class, I’d rest my chin in my hand and stare off into space, and even when a professor or a classmate tried to bring me back to reality, I still didn’t really feel centered.
Curtis noticed, but he never mentioned it, and no one else did, either. I was grateful for that. I didn’t want to talk about it, and I needed people to respect that. What Curtis did do was try to distract me by talking about other things.
I remember one day I asked if he’d called Chris again. We were sitting at a picnic table on one of the quads, and I was stirring a coffee I’d just bought. Curtis shrugged and sighed.
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“I swear, if you mistreat him, Naya’s going to kill you,” I warned him.
“We’re not married, Jenna.”
“Didn’t you have fun on your guys’ date?”
“It was fine. He’s so awkward it’s kind of sweet. But that’s all I can say.”
