“Yeah,” I tell her. “We did IUI last month…and got lucky.”
I watch her process the news, her expression going from shocked to some version of happy. She smiles and leans over to give me a hug, whispering her congratulations.
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re really excited…and scared….We’re not taking this lightly at all….It’s not a whim, Meredith.”
She nods and says she knows. I’m not sure she’s convinced, though, so I keep talking, trying to explain my heart to the person who most often misunderstands it.
“For years, I couldn’t get over Will and the mistakes I made in that relationship. I wasn’t truthful with him…just like I wasn’t truthful with you.”
She stares at me, intently listening.
“I really, really wish I had talked to you sooner,” I finish.
“Yeah,” she says sadly. “I know. And I believe you.”
Her words give me the strength to continue. “If I could go back, I would do things differently. But I can’t….None of us can….All we can do is move forward. And that’s what I’m trying to do. I want to be a mother. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m going to give it my all. Which is why I chose Gabe….He’s been a wonderful, true friend to me. He always, always has my back…and I think those qualities, that loyalty, will make him an amazing father.” I make myself stop rambling.
“I’m happy for you,” Meredith says. “And I think you chose right.”
This time, I can tell she means it. “Thank you,” I say. “Your opinion means so much to me.” I smile, then add, “But I thought you didn’t like Gabe?”
“Well…he’s not historically my favorite.” She pauses, then smiles. “But then again…neither are you.”
“Touché,” I say, touching my glass to hers.
We grin at each other for a beat, then both glance away. Several long seconds pass before I break our silence, blurting out an apology, trying not to come unhinged. “Meredith, I’m sorry. I’m really, truly, deeply sorry.”
She blinks, then bites her lip, appearing to be on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry for drinking too much that night. For not telling you the truth as soon as I suspected it. For not being a better sister.”
With this last statement, she looks at me directly in the eye, then says—for the first time ever, or at least the first time in my memory—“I’m sorry, too.”
“Really?” I say, unable to hide my shock.
“Yes. Really,” she says. “That night of the accident…remember how we fought?”
I nod and say yes, of course I remember. We fought over a necklace I wanted to borrow from her.
“I should have just given it to you,” she says.
I can tell where she’s going with this, and I shake my head and tell her it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“Maybe not. But maybe it would have,” she says. “Maybe you would have called me to come get you…maybe you wouldn’t have gotten quite so drunk…You tend to drink more when you’re pissed off….” Her voice quivers.
I shake my head, adamant. “No. That wasn’t it. You and your cheap, ugly necklace had nothing to do with anything….” I say, making a joke to keep her from crying.
“Yes, but neither did you and Nolan…You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen….I’m sorry I said you were responsible for Daniel’s death….You weren’t. That was cruel. And it’s not true.”
I nod, my heart feeling healed, if not absolved. “What about Nolan?” I ask her. “Did you make up?”
“We’re working on it,” she says. “We’re trying…but I just don’t know….” Her voice trails off as she shakes her head, looking so, so sad.
“Because of our lie?” I ask.
“Because of a lot of things. But mostly because I’m not sure we are right for each other….But we’re going to try to work things out. Really try. For Harper’s sake. For everyone’s sake.”
I nod, feeling sure she is now referring to our whole family. I suddenly wonder if that hasn’t been part of her burden and resentment over the years. The feeling that she is somehow responsible for keeping us all together.
“I hope you can, Meredith…but if you can’t? That’s okay, too….”
She nods, looking grateful. Bolstered by the feeling that for once, I might be the stronger sister, I keep going. “And no matter what happens,” I say, “you chose right, too. You still chose the right father for your child.”
I turn on my stool and put my arms around her, waiting for her to pull away, relieved when she doesn’t. Instead, she raises her head and looks at me with wide eyes. “I know I did, Josie,” she says. “Thank you.”