Mama wanted to rush and squeeze me to her chest, her body leaping forward, but Daddy put his hand on the table in a silent gesture that advised against it. He reminded her that I had to be punished for my disobedience.
“Sit, Rose,” she said instead, her voice sad. Every cell in my brain begged me to protest, but this was not how I wanted our visit to go down. I grabbed a chair at the far end of the table and laced my fingers together. My parents and I had been distant but civil over the past three months. We texted a lot. Mostly health-related stuff and quick updates about my life. They sometimes called to remind me to wish a relative a happy birthday or to pick up Millie’s mail from our old apartment or ask when I was going to come back, but that was the extent of it.
“I think we should talk—” I started, but Mama cut me off.
“Kathy from my knitting club saw you on that Facebook website the other day. Called and talked my ear off, she did. Said she had some interesting news to share. Why, Rose LeBlanc, out of all the men in Manhattan—out of all the men in the world—you have your eye set on the one your sister had dated!”
“Good morning.” Said sister breezed into the kitchen, flipping her lavender hair off of her shoulder. “I smelled food so I came to eat it all.” Millie chuckled, but everyone else in the kitchen looked ready to roll on the floor in a punch-fight.
“Not in the mood for humor? Well, I guess I’ll join the funeral.” Millie plucked a carton of coconut water from the fridge and took big gulps, rubbing her belly.
It’d been ten minutes since I woke up, and already I had my dose of drama for the whole weekend. Millie wore a long dress the color of honey with no shape and fringes at the bottom, and her long hair danced around her shoulders. She looked like a fairy. A very pregnant one at that. Her belly was the size of a watermelon. How many babies did she have in there? She kept me posted, so I knew it was just the one. At five months she looked like the bun in her oven was baking pretty nicely.
I jumped from my chair, emptying my arsenal of affection, kisses, and hugs on the one person in my family who actually accepted them. Millie pulled away, smoothed my hair, and crinkled her nose. “Did I arrive five minutes too late?”
“Thirty seconds, but the bomb has already dropped.” I sighed. My sister gave me that look, a mixture of an eye roll and a knowing smile, reminding me that it was the same old story, different day.
“Mama, Daddy.” Millie motioned for me to get back to my seat, grabbing her own chair and plopping down. “You need to hear us out. I’m done seeing Rosie get hurt.”
“Oh?” Mama folded her arms. Daddy still pretended to be reading from the newspaper, but his eyes weren’t moving. It made me want to throw something at him. Scream. Yell at him that he had no right to be mad. That I was the one who had felt abandoned and discarded. That for someone who wanted me around all the time, he had a funny way of showing it. He mourned a daughter who hadn’t even died yet, but he wouldn’t let her love him.
“Your mama doesn’t need time. She needs a healthy daughter.”
I wondered what kind of daughter he referred to. One who wouldn’t follow her dreams, perhaps? One who would bow down and do whatever it was he wanted her to do with her precious time left in this world? Not that I couldn’t see where my family was coming from. It was heartbreaking, I’m sure, to watch your sick kid making a life somewhere else. But that was what my parents hadn’t realized.
New York wasn’t about New York. It was about independence.
It was about doing what I wanted to do, experiencing life out of the bubble my parents had created for me. Most of all, it was about finding out who I was without people dictating it for me.
“Rosie’s boyfriend, Dean Cole, called Baron yesterday, telling him they wanted to come here and announce their relationship.” Millie took my hand and smiled, that type of smile that lit up the room and the one next to it. “It’s Thanksgiving, and we have so much to be thankful for. I have a baby coming soon, and Rosie is happy and doing so well health-wise. We wanted to celebrate together. I’m sure you remember Dean and I used to date in high school. I’m also certain you remember how it ended. Briefly. Tragically. But, as you may recall, not heartbreakingly.”
Millie rubbed circles on my back, trying to soothe my nerves away. I was legit too nervous to breathe.
“I don’t want to dwell on the past, but I do find it important to say one thing to make sure our future is brighter: Baron and I were always meant to be together. Everyone knew that. Everyone…but us. As for Dean and Rosie?” She sighed, shaking her head, the sorrow seeping from her expression. Millie knew how much it hurt me, us, and wished she could take it back. “Mama, Daddy, they were crazy for one another from day one. I hadn’t noticed, because I was too busy being a selfish teenager, but there is no way I am hurt or annoyed by their relationship. Just look at her.” She flipped my hair and grinned. “She is glowing. And when she is happy, we should all be happy. Do I look dejected in any way?” She cradled her tummy and laughed, and I laughed with her, not because I was feeling relieved or optimistic, but because my sister was the definition of health, and even if I wasn’t, I liked that what I would leave behind was safe and whole.
Emilia was both.
Daddy finally lifted his eyes from the paper. “Is that true, Rose? Did you always love Dean Cole?”
I couldn’t read his tone. Was it serious? Sad? Disappointed? Pleased? Did he think I was an idiot for loving a man who wasn’t mine to love, or did he appreciate the sacrifice I had made for my sister all those years ago?
“Always.” I blushed, looking down to my knotted fingers. “I’ve always loved him.”
And it was the uncomfortable truth no one wanted to hear. No one but the man who didn’t know it. Dean himself.
My father pushed himself away from the table, hands on his waist, looking ready for another argument.
“Is he taking care of you? We need to know.”
Jesus Christ. Either my dad was the biggest caveman to walk on Earth in the twenty-first century or he really thought I was a useless sack of bones. He trusted Emilia with my life when we lived together. He trusted Darren without even meeting him. But me? Nah. He’d put his faith in a crusty pair of underwear before he believed in me, so it seemed.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I offered a small nod.
“Yes, Daddy. He looks after me.” My jaw moved back and forth, every feminist cell in my body demanding I would put him in his place.
“Are you sure?”
“He packed my medicine and my supplies for me before we arrived here.” Biting my tongue to prevent myself from lashing out, I continued. “He sends me a taxi three times a week so I won’t miss my physiotherapy sessions. And comes with me to Dr. Hasting when he has the time.”
“When he has the time.” Daddy snorted, shaking his head. “Of course.”