“Mm. It smells wonderful.”
“Tastes even better.”
He takes a bite and chews methodically, and I wonder what it was that made our relationship so clinical. Why there is so little warmth in our family. The question coats my tongue, and I almost spit it out. But then he swallows, and the moment passes, and when he looks at me again, it’s with that same bland expression that he always wears. The familiar disinterest takes over his expression, and I know that his walls have crashed back into place. “It’s delicious,” he says in the pleasant, removed tone of voice one might use to say “It’s raining outside.”
“Cool. I’m glad you like it.” He turns and leaves the kitchen, still working his way through the bagel, and I shrug off our strange exchange and go back to packing everything up.
When all the goodies are packed up nicely, I place everything—the espresso machine and the food—into a big box I’ve ordered especially for this. Then I place the huge card on top of it, take several pictures of the whole thing, and tape the box shut. I go to sleep with a smile on my face that night. I’ve undertaken such a huge task, and now I’m in the home stretch.Tomorrow, I will deliver it to Haven, and everything will be put right, and I won’t have to live with this guilt slowly nibbling away at me anymore.
The whole time I drive to Haven’s, I practice what I will say to her. “Hi, Haven. You look well. Here’s something from all of us to you.” “Hey. The other debuts and I put something together to show you how much we appreciate you.” “Hi, here you go, I hope you enjoy it.”
None of it feels quite right. The thing is, the thought of seeing Haven in person after all these years is making my entire body do very uncomfortable things. My palms are constantly sweaty no matter how many times I wipe them on my jeans, my mouth is dry despite the sips of water I continually take, and my heart jumps back and forth between a somewhat normal rate and a sudden sprint, which in turn is beginning to make my head pound. I get to Haven’s street and park, then I sit in my car for a long while, just staring out at her house. I see myself again on that night, creeping along the side of her house, my hands wrapping around those cables, my entire body jerking back as I rip them out. The memory of it chokes me. I clear my throat and shake my head. Doesn’t matter; what’s done is done. The important thing is I’m putting things right.
“Come on, Fern. Be brave,” I say out loud. I don’t let myself wait another minute longer before I jump out of the car. I take the box out from the back seat. It’s heavy, reminding me of the many days I had to struggle under the weight of Annette’s photography equipment. I walk slowly across the street toward Haven’s house, and every step I take, I swear my body fights back with increasing ferocity. Somehow, though, I manage to make it to Haven’s front step. I so badly want to drop the box off and run away before anyone can see me, but instead, I ring the doorbell.
The one who opens it is Mrs. Lee. She says, “Oh! I forgot my mask! Hang on, dear.” She shuts the door and reopens it a minute later, masked. “Sorry about that. I’m still not used to this.” She laughs,the corners of her eyes crinkling, and despite the mask, I can sense the warmth of her smile, and it’s so sweet I could just die.
“No, of course, no worries. Um, I’m here to deliver something for Haven. I’ll just—”
“Oh! Well, you’re in luck because she’s right here.” Before I can stop her, Mrs. Lee turns around and calls out loudly, “Haveyyy! There’s someone here with a present for you.” She winks at me and says, “I’m going to get you a snack.” Again, she doesn’t wait for a response before rushing back into the house.
I want to leave right now. If I just dropped the box on their doorstep and then ran, I could probably make it to the car before Haven gets to the—
“Fern?”
I look up, and there she is. My nemesis in the flesh. Haven Lee. Haven Lee, whom I haven’t seen in person for so many years. Haven Lee, who manages to recognize me even though I have a mask on. I try to say a casual hello, but the word catches in my throat, refusing to come out, and I end up hacking and coughing. Haven takes a small step away from me, and I don’t blame her. I mean, there’s a pandemic for god’s sake, and here I am, hacking up a lung like my entire system is overwhelmed by the virus. It’s a wonder, in fact, that Haven doesn’t just shut the door in my face. Instead, she says, “Are you okay?” and there is genuine concern in her voice. She turns her back on me and calls out, “Ma, can you get a glass of water, please?”
I shake my head desperately, trying to tell her it’s fine, I’m okay, I don’t have COVID, I just choked on my own words, that’s all. But I’m still riddled with coughs. Mrs. Lee hurries to us, carrying a glass of water, and I set the box down and accept it gratefully. I turn slightly so they won’t see me gulping down the water, and thank god, when I am done with the glass, the coughing fit has passed. I replace my mask before turning back to face them and handing the glass over to Mrs. Lee.
“I’m so sorry,” I croak. After all that coughing, my voice now sounds like someone with a three-pack-a-day habit.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Mrs. Lee says, her face creased with genuine concern. Then she leaves, but as she does, I catch her giving Haven’s arm an affectionate squeeze. It’s something that’s always struck me, the way Haven and her parents can’t seem to stop touching each other. They’re always patting each other on the shoulder or the arm. When they walk, Haven links her arm through her parents’ like she is all of five years old, and it’s a bond I want to roll my eyes at, but I know that deep down inside I would kill to have something approaching that with my own parents.
And now it’s just me and Haven again. The sight of her, the nearness of her, makes everything rush back. Dani’s presence, which I have pushed away for so long, comes back to haunt me. I can practically see Dani behind Haven, smiling, eager to tell Haven a funny story. I blink, and Dani’s ghost is gone. “Um, thank you for—uh, the water,” I say hoarsely.
“Of course,” Haven says. She looks at me with a world of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t know you were back in LA. You moved to New York right after college, right?”
What a strange feeling, to find out that Haven Lee knows these things about me. “Yeah. I had to move back because ...” The truth almost slips out of me like an eel. Because I got fired and I spent all my savings on a publicist so I can no longer afford rent. But I catch it just in time. I can’t tell her the truth. Even now, after all this time, I don’t want to look bad in front of Haven Lee. “Um, my mom caught COVID.” The lie slips out of me like an eel, slimy and grotesque, and now it’s too late to take it back.
Haven’s eyes widen. “Oh no! How is she now? I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“She’s fine,” I say quickly.
Haven places a palm on her chest and says, “Oh good. I’m so glad she’s okay. I actually moved back for the same exact reason. My dad got COVID, too, and it was really scary.” She takes a deep breath, hugging herself. “We thought we were going to lose him at one point. I’m glad both our parents pulled through.”
I nod, wanting to end this as quickly as I can. I bend down and pick up the box. “Um, anyway, the other debuts and I heard about the thing with your electricity going out and how you guys had to look for a place to stay in the middle of the night and all that ... and we wanted to put together something for you and your family.” I hand the box to her, and for a moment, she hesitates, and I wonder if she’s going to reject it. But then she gives me a small smile and takes it.
“Oh wow, it’s heavy,” she says.
“Yeah. Anyway, well, it’s from all of us, so.” There doesn’t seem to be anything left to say, so I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you for hand delivering it,” Haven says. “You really didn’t have to.”
“It’s fine. Don’t think about it.” I take a step back, give a quick wave, and leave her house. My breath comes out in one long whoosh. For the first few minutes, my emotions are a messy swirl in my mind. I’m not sure if I feel good or bad; mostly I just feel jittery and like I need a good laugh or a good cry or some way to release all this frenetic energy inside me. But as I drive away from Haven’s, the tension uncoils, and I’m able to remind myself to breathe. I did it. I put the whole thing together from start to finish, and I personally saw to it that she received everything. I wanted to make amends, and I did. And now I can finally move on and pretend that this whole shit show never happened at all.
Chapter 20
The thing about obsessions is they rarely ever end when we want them to. I should’ve known that from all that time I spent in therapy. Aliyah often had to remind me, “Fern, healing is a marathon. It’s not like flicking a light switch. Even with medication, we don’t have a magic pill that you can take which will heal you quickly. Everything takes time, so be kind to yourself and take every day one step at a time.”
