She tiptoed up the street past her parents’ house. Old habits died hard. At least she didn’t have to shimmy up the trellis this time.
Her sister’s place, an adorable bungalow in daffodil yellow, was just one block down on the opposite side of the street.
It was the place her sister had dreamed of owning since she was a little girl. Remi was so proud the day Kimber and Kyle signed the papers she’d sent them a Welcome Home mat for the little front porch and demanded a picture of it as soon as it was in place.
Her dad had snapped a picture of Kyle carrying her sister over the threshold like a bride. One foot on the mat and one foot in the door.
She stepped up onto the porch and found the mat was still there.
Welcome Home.
It was worn now. Frayed around the edges. Some of the letters were fading under the abuse of sidewalk salt.
But it was still there.
She was about to knock when she heard a noise from around back. It sounded like the back door opening and closing.
Remi tiptoed off the porch and followed the walkway around to the fence.
She heard the flick of a lighter. Eyebrows raised, she knocked at the wooded gate. “Psst! Kimber?”
“Remi?” she heard her sister say.
“Yeah. Want some company?”
There was a hesitation that pained her. Not only had they lost their connection, her sister seemed like a stranger now.
She let out a breath when the handle on the gate jiggled, and it swung open.
“Holy shit. Are you—”
Kimber stood in plaid pajama pants and a black parka. “Smoking? Yes. I am. You can withdraw the judgment.”
She blinked. “I’ve just never seen you do anything…” Bad. Wrong. Inappropriate. Unhealthy. “Like that.”
“It’s my own little rebellion,” Kimber said flatly. “I thought you of all people would be proud.”
It sounded and felt like a dig. “What are you rebelling against?”
Kimber blew out a stream of smoke into the night air. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. If it’s a good cause, I’ll join the rebellion.”
Her sister’s laugh was dry. “That’s the last thing I need.”
Remi took a breath and tried to focus on what lay behind her sister’s words. “Are you and Kyle okay?” she asked.
“Define okay. Yes, we’re still married. No, he didn’t come home for Ian’s Media Club Awards at the school tonight because it was easier to stay another night instead of seeing his kids and commuting in the morning.”
Remi winced. “Does he do that often?”
She ignored the question. “You know what he did have time for? To ask me if everything was okay with you. Apparently you called him looking for some vague legal advice, and now he’s worried you’re in trouble.”
“It’s nothing,” Remi said quickly.
“Nothing? Do you know what it would take for my husband to remember that I exist in any capacity beyond folder of laundry and raiser of children?” Kimber’s voice rose shrilly.
Remi decided to stay quiet. She was no stranger to emotional volcanic activity. But this was her first time witnessing her big sister lose her cool.
“Since Kyle’s concerned. And Mom and Dad are concerned. Why don’t we talk about you? How’s your life, Remi? How’s your asthma?”
“I’d rather talk about you.”
“Really? I thought you only thrived with all the attention in the room on you.” A tiny tear tracked its way down her sister’s cheek.
“Okay,” Remi said, taking a step back. “You’re obviously going through some tough things. I should go.”
“What’s it like being fascinating? No one’s found me interesting, let alone fascinating, since before I had kids,” Kimber mused. “Maybe never.”
Remi started for the gate. “Call me later.”
“You and your technicolor brain and your deficient lungs and your whole ‘watch me get in trouble’ without consequences. How do you do it, Rem?”
“Do what?” Remi asked, feeling tired and sad.
“Ever since we were kids, you just sucked all the attention out of the room.”
Remi closed her eyes and absorbed the blow.
“I mean, I don’t begrudge you your ‘special sparkle,’ but I get why Audrey married Brick.” Kimber’s laugh was humorless.
Remi’s head was spinning at the unexpected attack. “What does one have to do with the other?”
“She took something you couldn’t have. You could charm your way into getting anything. Except Brick. Who could blame Audrey for taking something that you wanted? At least she got to feel as if she was just as good as you.”
Remi was stunned into silence.
“Haven’t you ever noticed? Standing next to you makes everyone else invisible. You know what happens when someone like you lights up the room? It makes the rest of us dimmer. And I know it’s not your fault. And I still love you because it’s impossible not to love you, though frankly, that pisses me off, too.”
“I’m going to go,” Remi said again. She wasn’t sure how many more direct hits she could absorb before she reacted.
“When we were growing up, everything in our lives organized itself around you. Your asthma. Your synesthesia. You getting grounded. There was no other option for me except to be the good one.”
“You about finished?”
Kimber let out a breath. “Yeah. I think I am.”
“Feel better?”
Kimber put down the cigarette and picked up her drink. “Yeah. I think I do. I should have a fucking meltdown more often.”
“Listen up. I never asked to be protected. I left because I was suffocating here, surrounded by people who were never going to accept that I’d grown up. Who’d never stop seeing me as the flighty screw-up who needed saving. I never asked to have fucking asthma.”
“But you also never gave managing it a second thought. Because someone was always going to be around to bring you an inhaler or carry your ass to the doctor.”
“I was a kid, Kimber. Hell, I was still a kid at twenty-five. The only thing I felt as if I had control over was my own fucking body. So I made choices. Bad ones just because no one else could make them for me. And no one noticed when I fucking grew out of it.”
“You still haven’t grown out of it! Brick had to ride to your rescue yet again.”
“Oh, fuck off. I didn’t ask him to do that.”
“Maybe not this time, but what about every other time? The man is your real-life guardian angel.”
“I DON’T NEED GUARDING!”
“YES. YOU DO! And now that you’re an adult, your decisions can hurt others.”
It was a direct hit. The one that broke through her resolve to stay calm. “I know that. And that’s my problem to deal with. You know what your problem is?”
“Gee, I can’t wait to hear this,” Kimber scoffed.
“Your problem is you. Your husband checked out on you? Who let him? Who made that an option? Who didn’t throw down an ultimatum? Either check back in or get the fuck out. It wasn’t me. Who’s fault is it that you don’t have a job to give you back a piece of your identity? Who’s fault is it that you’re unsatisfied?”