“I need some tough love.” I stand on Kiersten’s front doorstep, two lattes in hand, smelling like a sad campfire.
She doesn’t take the coffee. Or invite me in. Instead, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Gems, but I’m on my way out and can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
She turns around as if our conversation is over but leaves the front door ajar. I ignore her words and follow her back inside. She clearly hasn’t heard about what happened yet.
Everything about Kiersten’s house is the same as in my timeline. On her wall is the picture of a cow that Riley drew with a Sharpie when he was five. Kierst framed it instead of painting over it. Sitting on top of the television is the live, laugh, love sign that she got from Trent’s mother for her first wedding anniversary. I would bet a million dollars it says “Cry, Drink, Fuck” on the back, written in the very same Sharpie as Riley’s wall picture.
It also smells the same. Pancakes and coffee. If I close my eyes and clear my mind, I can almost pretend that I’m back in my own timeline. That I haven’t fucked everything up.
“This is an emergency, and I need you to tell me what to do.”
Again, she ignores me, hopping around on one heeled shoe as she searches through a pile of mismatched runners and rubber boots.
“Seriously, Gems. I have somewhere I need to be. I promise I will call you later, but right now, I’ve got to go.”
She pulls her missing shoe from the pile and slides it on. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she ruffles her roots with her fingers and then grabs her car keys from the shelf next to the door, shoving them in her purse.
She’s not getting it. I’ve unraveled the tapestry. I’ve fucked up the space-time continuum, and Dax is paying the price.
“There’s been a fire.” My voice wavers as I say it, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. She reaches past me to open the door, ignoring that I’m having a third-degree meltdown in her front hall.
“I know,” she calls over her shoulder. “Aunt Livi called me. It’s awful, and I hope Dax is okay, but if I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”
Desperation floods my veins, and I launch myself after her, grabbing her arm. “Kiersten. I need you.”
She wheels around, gripping both my shoulders. She stares hard and unwavering into my eyes.
“No, Gemma.” The harshness of her tone feels like a slap. “You can’t just show up on my doorstep and expect that I’m available to drop everything because you need to vent. I love you. I’m sorry this sucks. But you need to figure it out on your own or hold on ’til later because I can’t right now.”
She doesn’t wait for my response. She marches out the front door and down the front walk to her driveway, not even stopping when I run out after her.
“But I brought coffee.”
She looks up. I would say she’s praying, but Kiersten is as atheist as they come.
“Get in the car.”
She climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. I’m too stunned to move until she starts backing down the driveway, and I have to sprint to catch up, flinging open the passenger door just before she hits the street.
“What is wrong with you?” I yell as we speed down her street with my door still open.
“I told you. I have a meeting. We have exactly fourteen minutes before we get there, so start talking. Because you are not coming in there with me.”
“Where are you going?”
I finally realize that she’s wearing a suit. I have no memory of Kierst wearing anything that formal. Along with black heels and her hair nicely blown out. I think she’s even wearing lipstick.
“I am pitching to a potential client.” She says it like this is something normal she has said before.
“Pitching what? To whom? Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”
The light in front of us turns yellow. Kiersten presses the gas and flicks her left blinker. The minivan takes the corner with surprising agility.
“I’ve decided to start my own marketing business,” she says as we exit the intersection. “Nana’s Doughnuts wants to rebrand. They’re getting squeezed out by all of the hipster doughnut shops. They want a new look. A new name. Logo. Everything. I was supposed to meet with them the night you promised to babysit. I guess the virtual meeting wasn’t as shitty as I thought because they liked my pitch. Now it’s down to another independent consultant and me. And I really want to win this thing.”
In this moment, I completely forget about Dax.
“That’s amazing, Kierst,” I say and truly mean it. “I had…no idea.”
She shrugs, not looking at me. “Yeah, well…I have a marketing degree I’ve never actually used. I’m pretty smart. I’ve got some great ideas. But no one ever thinks that about me because I’ve spent the last fifteen years giving everything I have to everyone else—and I’m tired. I want, for once, to have something for me. And I think I’d be damn good at this.”
I showed up on her doorstep to tell her how I ruined Dax’s life. To detail out how my actions caused a ripple that got out of control. Because that is what I do.
I expected her to listen. To calm me down. To tell me exactly what I should do next, then tease me about it later. Because that is what she does.
It’s how we’ve always worked.
But all along, I assumed she didn’t mind.
“How long have you been thinking about starting a business?”
Kierst keeps her eyes on the busy weekday morning traffic. “For a while. But I decided to get off my ass and actually do something about it when Aunt Livi forced me to go to that weekend yoga retreat last fall. There was a part where we went around in a circle and had to talk about our hopes and dreams, and I realized that all of mine were for you and my kids. None were about me. And I decided I was going to do something about it.”
I remember that retreat. It happened in my timeline as well. And when Kiersten came home, she was weird for a week and a half. I chalked it up to too much time with Aunt Livi. But now, I suspect the Kiersten in my timeline might be feeling the same way.
And I’ve been completely oblivious.
This time I can’t even blame a glitch in the universe. I was too wrapped up in my drama with Stuart, my job, and my problems to even realize what my sister was going through.
We pull up in front of the doughnut shop, and Kierst gives herself one last look in the overhead mirror.
“Okay, spill it. Do you want to talk about the fire or your feelings? I have six minutes.”
I shake my head, still rethinking everything. “You take them to prep. I think I’m gonna try this thing where I attempt to figure out my problems before I come crying to you.”
Kierst eyes me as if she’s waiting for a ha or a but or any other indication that I’m not completely serious. When it doesn’t come, her eyes soften, and she reaches over the center console to squeeze my hand.
“I’m always going to be here for you, Gems.”