“No, it won’t, but we’ll get by.Like always.”I nearly tear up at the word.
Then, we go home.
CHAPTER48
Venus
“Venus!What’re you doing?”Ivy’s voice splits through a chaotic dream involving cloning research and Henry.Buster rouses beside me with a weak,“What?”
“Sleeping,” I mutter begrudgingly when my sister plops on the bed beside me.
“No, I mean, why aren’t you in class right now?It’s after nine,” she reports urgently.
I sit up, my head throbbing enough to elicit regret.Buster hops over me to tackle her, making the bed shake.I rub my temple.“I called in sick.Canceled my class.It’s allowed.”
“Oh,” Ivy says, calmer now.Her cold hand finds my forehead.“Are you sick?”
“Sick on love and vodka.”A summary of yesterday crowds my thoughts, bringing the pain with it.Longing burns through me like a controlled fire, clearing the brush for the raw earth underneath.I ache for Henry.The despair I feel seems illogical when I try to analyze it.How can I miss him so sharply when I was with him only yesterday?
But love is illogical.
Beautiful, terrible, and illogical.
Feelings, good and bad, rarely equate with reason.The pain of his absence isn’t only for the present, but made sharper for the future and the prospect of returning to a life without him.Without Olly.The thought suffocates me.
I deliberated for hours last night.I treated myself like a specimen and examined every part, looking for hope.Perhaps I’d find some unknown predisposition for domesticity, hiding in my corners.Or devise a brainwashing scheme for Maggie.Or discover a need to settle into a stable career.Or maternal instincts.Or Ivy-like charisma.Or general normalcy, hidden in boxes in my mental attic.Then, I could pull out the necessary tools to make this work, to make others see me as I am—not just a grown-up version of my former difficult self, but also as someone who would keep the two boys I love most safe and sound, as much as it’s in my power to do so.Then, I could take those empty boxes, fill them with the past, all the shame, blame, guilt, and other negativities inside them, and hide them from my consciousness.
I was quite tipsy by that point.
But that’s what this summer’s experiment was about, me trying to belong—and it failed.Again.
I lay back down, curling into my plethora of oversized pillows, hoping to fall back asleep, the only place to find relief.
Ivy slaps my ass.“Get up!”
“Owwww!”I whine.
“I’ll fix you my hangover cure.”She stands with her hands on her hips.“Take a shower.We have to get moving and grooving.Dad’s arriving at the airport in…” She checks her watch.“One hour.”
“What?Why?He’s not due back for another week.”
She shrugs.“All I know is that Christie texted us… Where’s your phone?”
I glance around.“Don’t know.”
She groans with irritation.“Anyway, he said that Dad’s arriving and asked if we could pick him up.So, shower.Now.Come on, Buster.”
He yaps and follows her out of the loft bedroom.
Ivy’s hangover cure is toast, two pain pills, and an iced coffee mixed with coconut milk, which she has thoughtfully put into an oversized travel mug.She pushes everything toward me when I come downstairs.She gives me a once-over, not bothering to hide her dissatisfaction.
“All those beautiful clothes we got you, and this is what you’re wearing?”
A glance down at my usual t-shirt, shorts, and boots causes a huff.“What?It’s the airport, not a date.I want to be comfortable, and I don’t need those clothes anymore.”
She groans.“You’re regressing and don’t think for a second I didn’t notice the half-packed bags on your floor.What’s going on?”
I shove toast into my mouth instead of answering.
