The good old days. She’d never had a close, tender relationship with Tani, but at least her pecking and criticism had been some sort of attention.
When Livvy’d lost her father in that accident, she’d lost her mother too. Tani had effectively withdrawn from all her children, spending her days either sobbing or sleeping. She’d seemed oblivious to Livvy’s heartbreak over losing her father and Nicholas back-to-back, Paul’s devastation over losing his place as heir apparent to C&O, and—most important—Jackson’s run-in with the law and the two weeks he’d spent in jail. At the time, Livvy’d felt blindsided, utterly and totally alone.
As an adult who struggled with maintaining emotional equilibrium, though, Livvy could empathize. In hindsight, she could see a pattern in her mother’s behavior that suggested the depressive episode after Robert’s death hadn’t been entirely situational.
Headaches and fatigue. Growing up, those had been the excuses her mom had given when she’d retreat to her bed for days on end. There hadn’t been tears then, only silence. Livvy’s father, normally cheerful, would walk around with a worried scowl on his face, shushing Livvy and her brothers. After a few days or a week, her mother would emerge, a little more fragile-looking, but back to her cool and contained self.
Part of Livvy wanted to ask her mother straight out if she’d ever seen a doctor about her depression, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Even when life had been more stable, the Kanes had never discussed mental health. It had takenyears for Livvy to seek help and even longer for her to understand there was no cure or magic pill that could fix everything.
In the dark days and weeks following Paul’s funeral, Livvy’d finally confronted and acknowledged the scary, lonely emptiness she’d carried inside her for most of her adult life. She’d tried to fuck it and move it and ignore it and run it away, to no avail.
It would never leave her, fine. She was done flailing in the darkness when she could take actionable steps to help herself.
Coming home right now was her chance and she’d take it. Livvy sipped her too-sweet coffee. Even if she had to cook and clean and confront her ex-lover, she’d force her mother to... well, maybe not shower Livvy with love, but at least care enough to criticize her a little.
Nobody had ever said her family was functional.
A knock sounded at the front door, but before Livvy could move, the rattle of keys preceded a familiar throaty voice. “Hello?”
Tani straightened. She didn’t exactly light up, but her gaze focused on the arched opening of the living room.
“We’re in here,” Maile called out.
A small, dark-haired whirlwind came barreling through the door. The six-year-old paused only when he caught sight of Livvy and shoved his silky black hair out of his eyes, a shy smile creasing his baby-round face. Kareem had his mother’s hair, build, and face, but he had his father’s smile.
Livvy wasn’t great around kids, but her heart caught, something deep and warm lodging there. She wanted to grab the kid and haul him in for a hug, but he barely knew her and would probably be freaked out. She settled for a smile, dialing up the warmth.
“Hi, Livvy,” he said.
“Aunt Livvy,” Livvy’s sister-in-law said as she rounded the corner of the door and smiled at Livvy. Sadia had been Livvy and Jackson’s best friend from the time they were in elementary school, well before she’d fallen in love with and married Paul. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade, though motherhood had rounded her already dangerous curves.
“He can call me Livvy,” she replied, not for the first time. It felt odd to hear the kid call her “Aunt.” She and Sadia had kept in contact more than she had with any other member of her family, but that didn’t mean she knew Kareem beyond photos and videos. Before this week, she’d seen him exactly three times in his life. He’d been a newborn the first time, a toddler the second, when Sadia had traveled to meet her in Manhattan for a weekend, and she assumed he’d been too tired and confused at his dad’s funeral to remember the third time.
“He’ll address you with respect,” Sadia said firmly, then came close to pull Livvy in for a hug, which Livvy returned a little awkwardly.
It was odd adjusting to being around someone who didn’t hesitate to touch her. She hadn’t known how much she craved that kind of casual physical affection. She was a loner by necessity—it was hard to make friends or form lasting attachments when she was constantly on the road.
Livvy held on a beat longer than she needed to, only because she knew she could. At Paul’s funeral, her mother had carefully stood on the opposite side of the grave. It had been Sadia who stood next to Livvy, arm wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t know who had been giving who comfort.
“Aunt Livvy,” Kareem mumbled, then skirted around her to continue to his grandmothers. He launched himself at Maile, who had thankfully placed her coffee down first. She gave him a fierce hug, squeezing until he wriggled free. With no sign of reticence, he flopped on the couch next to Tani and curled in close to her side. “Hey.”
“Kareem,” her mother said, and there was a fraction of genuine warmth and happiness in her voice.
“Be careful not to jostle Grandma,” Sadia cautioned her son. The boy gingerly readjusted himself next to the older woman, taking exaggerated care not to move her. Sadia hitched the large tote she carried up higher on her shoulder. “Hello, Aunt Maile. Mom.”
“Hello. My goodness, Sadia, you look lovely today. Doesn’t she look nice, Tani?”
Tani spared Sadia a quick glance. “She looks the same to me.”
Sadia smoothed a hand over her round hips and maintained her smile. “Thank you, Auntie.”
Livvy gritted her teeth. No, she would not be jealous that her mother had made a passive-aggressive barb at another woman instead of her.
Pathetic, party of one.
“I brought over some sandwiches and those quiches you like from the café.” Sadia patted her bag.
“Oh, how nice,” Maile said. “We were just wondering what to do about dinner.”
