Listening from behind a wall, I only caught the last part of herstory.
“So then Indiana-Jones…”
Enough with the action figurename,Mom!
“Comes up to me with thecomputer…”
No, she’s not! Shewouldn’t!
“And it’s just filled with pop up after pop up of vanilla porn,right?”
No.No.No.
“And right smack dab in the middle of the screen was that damn fake FBI notice. The virus locked his computer, and there was this flashing warning box, promising to send a team of federal agents over to arrest him if he didn’t immediately submit a credit card paymentfor$500.”
SHELBY!
“I mean, the poor kid had no choice but to show me, thinking he was going to the slammerandall.”
How was I supposed to know it was a scam? I wasfourteen!
“And the best part was, not only did he get caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he embarrassed the hell out of himself… for nothing.Classic.”
And just like that, the goodwill I’d been feeling toward Shelbywasgone.
* * *
“This is it,Emma, thefinalpush.”
Emma looked at me with both fear and excitement. In a few seconds, our lives were going to change. We’d prepared for this moment, but now that it was finally here, I wasn’t sure I was ready. Emma shocked me from my doubt by strangling my hand with such force that I was actually forced to call out my safe word. “Discombobulated.Discombobulated.”
Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that safe words didn’t exist during childbirth. Right in the middle of the push, Emma looked over at me and I swear she smirked just before saying, “You should have saidbutterscotch.”
And with that, Emma made her final stand, bearing down with a guttural scream. I wasn’t sure, but it was entirely possible that several small bones snapped in myswollenhand.
A few seconds passed before we heard the first shrillcries.
“Emma? Finn? Meet yourbabygirl.”
25
Emma, 2005: Summer ofHealing
Dad openedthe door to the vacation house, and the eight of us piled over the top of one another, trying to get our first look at our home away from home for the next week. It was a modern four-bedroom place and boasted opulent upgrades that would have turned my formerly selfish sixteen-year-old self into the snobbiest of snobs; however, that wasn’t what was special about this particular abode. When people praised location, this clearly was what they had in mind. The view from the massive showcase windows was of sand and surf and nothing else. I could definitely spend a week here… if not the rest ofmylife.
We’d been to this beach before, many times, but never like this. Never congregated in the hallway of a multi-million dollar home. Quinn undressed where he stood, no doubt perfectly willing to do a little skinny dipping if Mom didn’t hurry up and find his swim trunks. Grace was bouncing up and down like she was on a pogo stick, talking so loudly and excitedly that we all shushed her in unison. I glanced over at Jake to check his reaction, hoping he might be as impressed as the rest of us were, but my younger brother wore the same tired, emotionless expression he always did, that of a frown and furrowed brows. But then, there was no reason to expect more from him on today of all days… the one-year anniversary of the day that had destroyedhislife.
Because no one was sure how Jake would react to the notable date, the weeks leading up to it had been difficult on the entire McKallister household. Jumpy and on edge, we’d already accepted that things were about to get dicey and uncomfortable, so when Dad arrived home from work last week beaming from ear to ear promising us a surprise, the announcement was met with anticipation. It didn’t matter what good news he was itching to share with us; we were prepared to buy whatever he was selling. In this case, it was a long overdue vacation. Mind you, not to anywhere exotic or far away; in fact, we wouldn’t be more than thirty miles from our home. But because we lived near the ocean in California, those thirty miles were significant and along some of the most beautiful coastline in theworld.
One of Dad’s coworkers had talked to someone who talked to another, and suddenly a beach home was offered up free of charge by some kind soul whose only wish was that the week might be just a little bit easier on Jake. The fact that we’d arrived at the house on the actual day, one year removed, was bittersweet at best. All our lives had changed drastically in such a short time that it seemed almost unreal that the eight of us were standing here today alive and intact. Yes, we were fractured and scarred, but we were still kicking, and that had to count for something. And even though Jake wasn’t looking any more comfortable or at peace here, at least he couldn’t hide himself away in his room while the rest of us walked the halls and waited for the breakdown that was suretocome.
Mom insisted on lunch before we were allowed to spend the rest of the day sunbathing, swimming, and playing on the sandy beach. While Kyle, Keith, and Quinn went shirtless, Jake kept a swim shirt firmly in place. We’d heard about his scars, but none of us kids had been allowed to see them. As with so much else in his life, Jake held onto those secrets with clenchedfists.
“Why don’t you take it off?” my father urged, while tugging on Jake’s sleeve. “It’s a beautiful day. You could use a little coloronyou.”
He shook his head and looked vacantly out over theocean.
Dad sighed. When Jake had first come home, he was so weak and injured that we’d all taken to nurturing him and catering to his every need; but as time passed, my brother seemed to settle into that routine of dependency. He’d become complacent with inactivity and boredom, two things my father hated. “You can’t hide allyourlife.”
