“What?”
“Nothing,” my mother said quickly. Too quickly. “I’ll make sure to set aside some tasks for her too. Goodnight, children. Let me be a total mom and say it makes me happy seeing you two together like that.”
“Night,” my father announced. “Let’s plan on a run together tomorrow morning, son.”
My father was a runner. Always had been. His motto was, don’t stop until you drop. At least it would help me work up an appetite for dinner. If the amount of groceries my mother had stocked in my kitchen was any indication, we would be having nothing less than a Thanksgiving feast.
“Yep.”
“Do we know where we’re going?” Mom asked, as they stood at the edge of the doorway.
“Right down the long hallway. Your guest room is the last one on the left.”
“This house needs either a tram or golf carts to navigate,” my father noted. “Come on, Jackie, if we leave now, we might make it to our guest room by midnight.”
They were so dramatic.
The house was big, but it wasn’t that big. Was it?
Once they left, Rebecca got off the couch, took my empty glass, and headed for the wet bar in the corner of the room.
“We’re having another drink,” she announced.
“If you say so,” I muttered.
I knew what was coming. I thought I was prepared for it too. A minute later, she returned and folded her sock covered feet underneath her on the other side of the couch.
Another glass of wine for her. Red. And more expensive scotch for me.
“This place is ridiculous,” she said, handing me my crystal glass.
“I know. Do you think I should sell it?”
“Would you?” she asked, genuinely surprised
“It feels a little silly for just one person. I mean, there is a whole room out there for entertaining and lounging and here we are. In the library.”
“It’s because none of the furniture in that room is comfortable.”
“My interior decorator thought comfort was overrated,” I told her.
“And our voices echo when we talk out there. Because of the high ceilings.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I said. Probably because I didn’t spend a lot of time talking to myself. “Much.”
“What did Anna think the first time she saw it?” Rebecca asked me, adjusting herself until she sat cross-legged on the couch facing me. She took another sip of her wine. Liquid courage, I imagined.
“And here we go,” I sighed.
“What?” she blinked innocently.
“Let’s just get on with it,” I told her. “All the things you want to ask me.”
“So many things, Grant. How are you doing? How are you feeling? How are you living? Because it does feel in some ways that you are living. Again.”
“I didn’t want to,” I said quietly. “I didn’t think I was supposed to. But I can’t ignore that changes are happening in my life. Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes. Are those changes happening because of Anna?”
