But that night, although not a great conversation, ended amicably in my opinion. We decided we wanted different things at that time. So why was she more aggravated with me today?
Maybe because you keep forcing your presence on her when she just wants to move on?
So, should I just give up? The thought sent a lump down my stomach, twisting it with unease.
I couldn't give up, at least not emotionally. I knew we had something special, something that could lead somewhere—if I wasn't too late. All I could do was leave her with my parting words and hope they impacted her enough for her to reach out.
The rest of my day was easy, with only two jobs to measure and provide quotes for. On one hand, I was thankful since my mind swirled with conflicting thoughts and I wouldn't be much use puttingactualthought in during the day. On the other hand, my mind was filled with conflicting thoughts, so the distraction of having a full-on day would have been a welcome reprieve. Plus, it would've prevented the day from dragging on.
When I finally got home, I deviated from my usual routine of jumping straight into the shower, instead collapsing on the couch with a tired grunt. I closed my eyes for a moment, weary from the day and too lazy to even think about moving.
Before I knew it, the quiet of the house lulled me into a light snooze before startling awake when a car alarm blared. Only fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like an hour.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, knowing I should get up and shower since I felt and smelled a little ripe. My dirty shoes hung off the end of the armrest, and my lips curled in a fond smile. If Hannah were here, she would lose her shit if she caught me lying on the couch, all filthy. I could picture her little glare and her huff of annoyance. She would clip my ankles to get my feet down, chastising me while I hightailed it for the shower.
Hannah liked things neat and clean. Everything had its place with its little label and drawer. I remembered the first time she handed me a face cloth and pointed to a clean stack of them that miraculously replenished each week. No more soap, water, and hand scrubs for me. I was more than happy to oblige her. Happy wife, happy life. Frank, her dad, imparted that to me in amoment of father-in-law bonding the night before our wedding. And we did. We had a happy life.
Once she passed, I tried to maintain the house as she would, desperate to keep even the slightest connection to her. But as the years drifted on, habits that became second nature fell to the wayside. There was no use washing and replacing face towels when they were rarely used. Soap dispensers began to grow mold when I kept forgetting to buy the liquid to fill them, preferring just to use a soap bar. And forget about keeping the toilet seat down.
Could I see myself sharing my space again, opening my heart, and making another woman happy? Maria's face swam in my vision.
Not just any woman.
After finally leaving the couch, I took a hot shower before microwaving the leftover orange chicken I had for dinner last night. I then camped out on the sofa, watching nothing in particular as I periodically checked my phone. Was it too early to hope she'd text?
Just as I debated hitting the sack early, my doorbell rang. It was only 8 PM, but it was still too late for visitors. I grumbled when I left my spot, promising that if it was a religion seller, I was gonna pop the tires on their ten-speed bike.
Instead of a twenty-year-old boy in a suit, my sister-in-law stood there holding a glass dish. I was a little stunned, even though it wasn't unusual for her to pop over unannounced.
"Sarah, hey. What are you doing here?" I wasn't sure if her presence was welcome, although I felt a little guilty seeing her. We hadn't spoken much since her outburst at dinner, although I spoke with Diane regularly.
"Do I need a reason to see my favorite brother-in-law?" She smiled brightly, but her voice held a slight edge.
Still, I gave her a teasing grin as I opened the door wider. "Favorite, huh? Didn't know there were others in the running."
She winked at me before bustling into the house. I was exhausted and definitely not up for company, but I felt bad about how she and I had left things even though she didn't seem phased. So, despite my tiredness, I closed the door and kept my welcoming smile on. Besides, it would be nice to get back the familial bond we once had.
"I made apple pie," she added over her shoulder. "It's still warm."
I perked up at that. "You know I can never resist your apple pie," I answered, my mouth already salivating at the thought. That was another thing Hannah loved to do: serving something sweet after dinner. I couldn't be bothered with any of that now.
When I met Sarah in the kitchen, I expected to see her dishing out a generous portion of delicious pie for me in a bowl. Instead, the glass dish was abandoned on the counter while she rinsed out my dinner plate.
"You can just leave that. I was gonna do that before bed." I wasn't. I planned on doing it with my breakfast dishes in the morning.
"No, I can do it," she fussed as she picked up a dishcloth and started wiping it. "Really, Brian! Hannah would pitch a fit if she saw dirty dishes in the sink. You know how she likes to get it all done straight away."
Anger and annoyance traveled up my throat, ready to come out in a biting retort. But I held it back before I said something I’d regret. Instead, I glowered at her back, feeling like a naughty twelve-year-old as I watched her wash and dry my one dish before placing it away. She then started to wipe down my benches, even though I knew they were clean.
"You know, that apple pie's probably cold by now."
She waved me off. "I'll just warm it up. You take a seat in the lounge. I'll finish cleaning up in here."
I glanced around my kitchen, noting that the coffee pot was the only thing out of place. I didn't like feeling like some messy slob in my own home, but I knew better than to argue with Sarah. Even though she was the younger sister, Sarah thrived on her bossy nature, often exasperating Hannah.
I trudged back to the couch, feeling awkward in my own home. I picked up the remote and flicked through the channels, finally landing on an action movie. If Sarah thought I already had something on to watch, then she wouldn't insist on watching that god-awful sex series.
"Here we are." Sarah breezed into the lounge carrying two small bowls of steaming pie. Mine had a generous dollop of whipped cream, just the way I liked it. My stomach grumbled in anticipation.
