“Yes,” I reply.
Her shoulders slump. She studies her nails, turning them this way and that. They’re short, filed into a gentle arc and painted coral pink. The color contrasts prettily with her tanned skin.
“I thought so.”
“I know that’s unreasonable, though.” I shove my clothes aside and sit down on the bed, drawing up my knees so I’m facing her. “It’s hardly your fault, is it?”
She sighs. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, getting on a plane, all on your own, flying all the way overhere to see your dad. I always used to think of you as my brave supersister. I wanted you to like me, so much. But you could barely stand the sight of me.”
“That’s not true,” I reply with a frown, grappling with her heart-on-her-sleeve admission. Her honesty has a domino effect and I find myself wanting to open up in turn. “You were cute, a lot of the time. I was just... Well,Iwas jealous. You had Dad and your mum. I had Mum and hardly anything of Dad. I felt like an outsider. I still do.”
She recoils. “You don’t, do you?”
“I do.” My voice comes out sounding small. “Even things like you sitting next to Dad at the table last week make me feel left out.”
I can’t believe I’ve confessed this, and as soon as her eyes widen, I regret it.
“Butyousat down there, Wren! I placed that setting forme!”
“Did you?”
“Yes!”
Okay, now I’m surprised.
I cast my mind back, trying to work out how I came to be sitting at the end of the table instead of next to Dad as I had been in the days previously. I was so sure that the place at the end of the table, out on its own, was meant for me.
Am I at fault here? Am I so used to telling myself I’ll always come second that I’m fulfilling my own prophecy?
“Dad loves it when you come to visit,” Bailey is saying. “Ilove it when you come. Mymomloves it!”
“Come on, no, she doesn’t,” I can’t help but interrupt. “She tolerates it, butlikesit, let alonelovesit, is a stretch.”
“Oh my God, you aresowrong!” Bailey exclaims. “You have no idea how stressed she used to get, worrying what you’dthink of her. She wasdesperatefor you to like her! You should have seen her, cleaning the house like a maniac, dusting down every single inch of it,andputting fresh flowers in your room.Inever got fresh flowers.”
On cue, we both look at the small vase of roses sitting on the dresser. I’d taken them for granted, barely even acknowledged their existence. But now it dawns on me: Sheryl put those there. Sheryl went out into her garden, chose five perfect rosebuds, cut them, and put them in a vase. Forme.
“But I always feel like a visitor,” I say with bewilderment, my head not quite able to process what Bailey is saying.
“Youarea visitor,” she replies. “You’re never,everhere long enough. I’d give anything for you to be able to spend more time with us.”
“I wish Icouldstay longer. I’d love to hang here for a few more weeks, but you know,work.” I hold back from telling her about Dad’s suggestion.
“You don’t evenlikeyour job at the moment.”
We talked about this at Dirk’s.
“Yeah, but I can’t just quit. I have rent to pay. And I can’t move out until our lease expires. I don’t evenwantto move out, but I can’t face getting a flatmate, yet.”
“Fucking Scott,” she mutters.
“Yeah. Fucking Scott,” I agree.
“I’m sorry he was such a dick to you,” Bailey murmurs.
I smile at her, even as my eyes prick with tears. “At least he’s still helping to pay the rent for a while.”
“So he should. It’s the least he can do.”
