“Lovely, dear.” She brought her hand to her earpiece and shouted, rolling her eyes, “Does nobody know how to do anything around here?” With a gracious expression, she said, “Nice to meet you, Harper.”
As she departed, I stood there by the staircase like a deer in headlights before closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and going upstairs, not stopping and not looking back. Hiding, the way I always had in that house.
The hallway was empty, and I tiptoed over the carpet to keep from making noise. The door to the master bedroom was open and I stopped. I don’t know how long I stood there frightened in front of it, waiting for my father to pop out. I tried to avoid letting these visceral feelings get the best of me, but I never succeeded. They were instinctive and rose up from deep inside.
My pulse slowed when I’d convinced myself he wasn’t there.
Pathetic, I know.
I hadn’t been in that room in years. If I asked myself, I’m not sure I could have given a detailed description of it. And now, for some strange reason, I felt the powerful urge to go inside. Against my better judgment, I glanced around to be sure I was still alone and stepped over the threshold.
The wooden floor creaked under my feet, but all I could hear was the blood rushing through my temples. I forced myself to stay calm. To breathe, which I kept forgetting.
I felt like I was six years old again. Glimmers of the past returned to me: blurry, disconnected images. I saw myself running to the bed where my mother rested. She was always resting. I didn’t know then that her days were numbered. I didn’t understand she couldn’t do the same things with me she’d done before. I didn’t understand why she slept so much. Why her skin smelled like medicine instead of flowers.
I felt nervous as I walked between those walls where every piece of furniture, every nook and cranny, awakened memories I thought I’d forgotten. They were like sparks: her sweet smile, the feel of her kisses on my cheeks, her voice whispering stories to me in the darkness. The vibrant echo of her laughter. All of it warmed my heart now, but at the same time, it made me feel I was dying inside.
It’s funny how we can feel happiness and pain at the same time and with the same intensity, and how we end up unable to really say where one feeling begins and the other ends.
I walked toward a table by the window covered in photos in frames of various shapes and sizes. There was an order to them: my brother and sister on their birthdays, at dances, graduating from school… And there were many images of my mother. Pregnant. With Hayley and Hoyt in her arms. Making a snowman with them. Opening Christmas presents by the tree. Sunning themselves on a sailboat.
She was so pretty!
How funny they were, those moments I couldn’t remember. But then I noticed something, and the good feelings disappeared and I couldn’t see any of those faces anymore through the tears. I closed my eyes and bit my lip till it hurt and I could taste blood on the tip of my tongue. But that was better than the ache in my chest that was making me feel faint.
There wasn’t a single photo of me.
Not one.
I took a sip of my second glass of champagne, but without the desired effect. I didn’t feel anything at all. Well, apart from nausea and a slight feeling of vertigo that might have been the result of not eating a single bite at the banquet. But I couldn’t help it.
I stirred in my chair and smiled back at the girl seated across from me, as though to say,What a wonderful night! Isn’t it a shame that it has to end?I looked the way the bride’s sister was supposed to look, making a titanic effort to do so.
That table of photographs went on torturing me. I could think of nothing else, and it filled me with questions. I had a right to my place there. I had been a part of the story represented there on that surface with four carved legs. That was my family. Why the hell wasn’t I…
Stop it for once!I told myself.
A band was there to liven things up, and now they were playing “When You Love Someone” by James TW. Hayley and Scott walked out on the dance floor amid applause. She was radiant, precious, and my brother-in-law looked at her with such admiration that I wondered if there had ever been a man so deeply in love.
I got misty-eyed and felt like a dumb little girl.
Hoyt was at the bar talking with a work colleague he’d invited along as his date. Megan, I think her name was. She seemed to have her wits about her, but she came across as a little cold. Nothing like the girls my brother usually went out with. And yet, he seemed absorbed in their conversation and pleased to be with her.
He liked her.
And I liked seeing him take an interest in someone normal.
As I looked away from them and down at my nails, trimmed short, I felt it. A shiver that made me turn. I got that feeling in my chest like when you jump off a cliff, and you feel dizzy and you flail around for something to hold on to. Trey had passed my table on his way to the bar, sucking up the entire space like a black hole nothing can resist. And that included me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, but I was terrified at the same time that he’d notice me.
All evening, I thought I’d seen him, but when I blinked, he’d begone. So I wasn’t certain if he was actually there or if my subconscious was just incapable of letting him go.
He was dressed in a classic tux, with cuff links but no bow tie. He didn’t need any accessories to look perfect. Given cover by the distance, I saw how little the four intervening years had changed him. His hair was a little longer and was starting to curl, and the golden flecks in his green eyes reminded me of molten caramel. He had a tan, his jaw was square as ever, his hands just as big. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple moved slowly up and down, and under his carefully trimmed beard I could see the little scar on his chin, his curved lips… Well, I couldn’t see all those details, but I’d memorized them, and time had done nothing to soften their edges.
Resentment burned my soul. Four years of yoga to try to channel my wounded emotions had gone to hell in just over one day.
“Miss, more champagne?”
I raised my glass to the waiter who had stopped next to me. I’d drunk my entire glass without realizing it. I shook my head and sank in my chair, frustrated that I felt so terrible.
