Naomi relaxes her shoulders, knowing this will buy her more time before she has to complete a draft. But an unusual feeling of guilt also niggles at her, imagining how awful it would be to find out in an internet tabloid that her sister might have been strangled to death before her body was dumped in a drug den. She thinks of all the celebrities and their families she’s probably upset in the past, writing articles based on the usual rumors and whisper reports, never giving any thought to the heartbreak it could unleash. At least she’ll be giving Emily Dutton a heads-up. She’s teeming with questions for her, desperately curious to know more about Jade. But her questions will have to wait.
*
A bundle of pink and blue balloons attached to a mailbox bob in the wind, marking Naomi’s destination. She inhales as the taxi accelerates up the familiar steep driveway of her aunt’s house, wiping the sweat from her palms on her jeans.
Not finding anyone inside the front of the house, she makes her way toward the back deck, where she sees her cousin Katie and Katie’s husband, Nick, greeting guests under a giant balloon arch. Katie is wearing a baby-blue fitted dress, which accentuates her massive baby bump. All the other guests are wearing either pink or blue too. Naomi looks down at her red flannel shirt and black leather jacket, cursing herself.
“Naomi!” Katie squeals as she walks up, gift in hand.
Naomi is thrown off-balance as she remembers the last time she saw Katie, at Faye’s funeral. Even though Katie is standing in front of her in a blue dress, cheery as ever, Naomi can’t help but see her frowning in a black woolen coat.
“I was so excited when Mom told me you were coming!” Katie says, giving Naomi a half-hug and kiss on the cheek. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You too!” Naomi says, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as possible.
They’d always gotten along, but were never that close, not like some cousins were. Naomi chalks it up to Katie being a couple years older, but part of her wonders if it’s because she had a more stable upbringing, spending her childhood playing soccer instead of coloring on the wet floor of a bar while her mom rehearsed. Plus, Naomi and Faye had each other. They didn’t need anyone else.
“When are you going to join the mommy club and move back here?” Katie sways, grinning from ear to ear as she cradles her bump. “We miss you!”
Naomi laughs awkwardly and shrugs. She wants to tell Katie not to hold her breath, to explain how she no longer pictures herself playing happy families. How her dreams of having children have now morphed into nightmares, her mind constantly wondering how anyone can cope emotionally with worrying about all the bad things that could happen to them. She figures these are details Katie would prefer to be spared, though, so she avoids the question.
After a quick chat about life in LA, Naomi moves aside so the newly arrived guests can greet Katie, while Naomi moves onto Nick.
“Thanks so much for coming,” he says, arms outstretched for a hug. Nick was a year ahead of Naomi in school and lived in their neighborhood, so she hung out with him more than Katie when they were younger.
“Of course, it’s really nice to see everyone,” she says, pulling away. Her gaze lands on the faded scar on his forehead, more visible now than ever thanks to his receding hairline.
“Still have the scar, I see.”
Nick’s face flushes as his hand moves across it. “Have your sister to thank for that.” He laughs.
She smirks, remembering the night Faye chucked a piece of splintering firewood at his head. Unbeknown to Naomi, freshman Faye had been hooking up with Nick, a senior at the time. When he broke it off with her—either because he got what he wanted or because he was about to turn eighteen and realized it wasn’t a good look to be dating a minor—she didn’t take it well. He needed eight stitches.
Naomi hears her aunt before she sees her, talking loudly about “pa-tay-ta salad.” She uses it as an excuse to break away from Nick and turns to find her.
“Ah, there she is,” Aunt Mary exclaims, engulfing her in a hug. “So happy you made it! Been too long…”
Naomi’s heart aches at the words as she squeezes her aunt, breathing in her pungent flowery perfume. It takes her back to Faye’s funeral, where Aunt Mary must’ve been wearing the same exact scent. Feeling her eyes get teary, Naomi clenches her jaw, looking around for something else to focus her attention on as she pulls away.
“Great job with the decor,” Naomi says, eyeing the white tent and dozens of pink and blue balloons.
Aunt Mary swats a fly away with her hand, covered in rings and bracelets like some pirate merchant, before answering, “Why, thanks hun.”
Being here now, seeing her aunt after so long, makes her feel even more guilty for distancing herself. They exchange messages around the holidays, but Naomi doesn’t put in much effort. Sometimes, if she remembers Aunt Mary’s birthday, she thinks of calling. But the thought of having to have conversations, even just answering a simple “How are you?”, makes her feel sick with anxiety, so she never phones. It’s wrong of her, especially after how much Aunt Mary helped with both her mom’s and Faye’s funerals, but Naomi simply hasn’t been able to face it. All she has wanted to do is distract herself from her old life.
“My god, you look so thin,” Aunt Mary says, looking Naomi up and down. “Come on, let’s get you some food, fatten you up.”
Relenting to her aunt’s command, Naomi follows her to the gazebo, where bowls are filled with the usual selection of cold salads, next to a stack of burgers and hot dogs.
She picks at a plate of macaroni salad as she mingles with some of the guests, a few extended family members she saw occasionally as a kid, and unfamiliar others. Her conversations mostly consist of awkward greetings and intrusive questions. “Why’d you move to LA?” “What happened to Matt?” “Do you want to get married?” “Don’t wait forever, your biological clock is ticking.” “A family is so much more fulfilling than a career.” And on and on.
She loiters next to her Aunt Mary and her friends, preferring to nod along as they chat at her rather than having to endure more painful small talk.
“I just had the weirdest dream last night,” Lori, Nick’s mom, says to the group. “I saw my grandmother—I was very close with her—and she told me everything would be okay with the baby and not to worry.”
“Well, it was very foggy last night,” Laura says. Naomi frowns, eyes darting from brown-bob Laura to blonde-bob Lori, who also furrows her brow.
“You know… what they say about fog and spirits?” Laura waves her fork in the air, looking befuddled, as if she merely asked what five plus five was.
