Home Again

by Christine L'Amour

  She crossed her arms, not even caring right then and there that it was a very defensive move, and tried not to listen to what they were whispering to each other.

  “What is wrong with her hair?” (Nothing. It was just naturally a rat’s nest.)

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know where Erika found this woman…” (They met at Erika’s restaurant.)

  “What’s…what’s she wearing?” (Her dad’s old shirt. Did these people never wear their dads’ shirts?)

  “Who even are those people behind her?” (Her friends.)

  “Steph?” Erika said, a little out of breath, when she suddenly appeared by the door. “What are—Mom, will you please leave so I can—Aunt May, please—Oh, Jesus. Will all of you scatter? You’ve seen her before! Actually, let me—”

  Erika pushed them all back, glaring at everyone, stepped out, and closed the door very firmly behind her. Luke slipped out before it was totally closed and came forward, tail waggling, to say hello. Steph uncurled slightly to pet his nose.

  “Hey,” Don said. “Steph didn’t tell me you were having a party, or else I wouldn’t have badgered her into coming here, I swear.”

  “No, it’s—it’s fine,” Erika said. “I’d… I’d forgotten about it, really. Imagine my surprise when my family just started coming over out of nowhere. Sorry about not calling you over, Steph, but I knew your friends were over and you didn’t really want to come anyway…”

  “Do they often say those things about me?” Steph asked, eyes on Luke.

  Even without looking at her Steph saw Erika droop down like a deflated balloon, which was answer enough to Stephanie.

  “They’re wrong,” Erika said.

  Steph closed a hand around the ruff in Luke’s neck.

  “Your family thinks I’m a... weird, badly-dressed, strange woman you picked up out of nowhere?”

  Erika sighed. “Steph—”

  “They dislike me,” Steph said, so wounded and so tired of feeling wounded. “If I’d come today, I’d have spent the entire party listening to those people whispering bullshit about me behind my back? That’s that? Your mother just—“

  “They loved Luciana,” Erika said dryly, “so I don’t listen to their judgment anymore.”

  So did you, Stephanie didn’t say. She was your wife. You loved her too.

  Steph looked up at her. Erika seemed… sad. Sad and tired and still a smile lingered on her lips—like she was happy that Steph had come after her, that Steph was there to see her.

  “Come over?” Steph asked, hesitant, but that smile gave her a bit of strength. “We should… we should talk. Right? I should… apologize for some things. I know you were upset yesterday, and I—“

  “Erika!” someone shouted from inside the house. “Come here!”

  Erika grimaced, turning around slightly to her house.

  “I can’t,” she said, “I’m sorry, but right now—if I leave this barbeque they’ll flay me alive later, and honestly I don’t want my family running wild in my house. So—later? I don’t know when this will end. Just—later?”

  Steph glanced at Erika’s front window, where some people hastily looked away when she caught them staring. They had been looking at her, and probably whispering things.

  “Okay,” Steph said, voice small.

  Erika reached forward, but stopped midway, let her hand fall.

  “I’ll text you?” she tried, taking a step toward Steph. “When I can take a moment from everyone here, I’ll text you. I’m sorry I can’t go—“

  “Erika! Where are you!”

  “We’ll see each other tomorrow,” she completed, eyebrows lowering in annoyance at whoever was yelling at her.

  “Okay,” Steph told her.

  She left without giving Erika a kiss, too-conscious of the eyes peering at her from the windows. They went back home. Steph didn’t want to talk, so they watched TV instead. Don made her carrot cake.

  Erika didn’t text her at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erika fell into bed like a sack of rocks. Luke bounded up to the bed and snuggled to her side. Her feet were hurting from standing up the entire day, her neck was hurting from the sunburn of staying outside so much, her hand was burning from when she’d accidentally touched the fucking grill, and her heart was hurting because she didn’t manage to get away from people enough to send a text to Steph.

  And anyway, she thought to herself, she wouldn’t have known what to say. She could have sent Stephanie a text with meaningless words, but that felt stupid. She couldn’t really send anything that invited a conversation, because she wouldn’t have been able to keep it up. She could have sent a picture of some nice food with the caption Wish you were here—except the last place Steph wanted to be was there.

  Steph had never really been to her house. Erika hated that this had been the first time, though it was kind of funny that like Erika, Steph wouldn’t want to be there. Erika couldn’t believe how her family—her own mom—had acted around Steph.

  She’d forgotten about the barbeque, then she’d pettily not called Steph over, but Steph had come anyway, and it’d all been messed up. She buried her face in her pillow. She hadn’t bothered to undo her braid and the way the elastic pulled at her hair was bothering her. She fell asleep thinking about Stephanie’s hands on her hair, how she’d massaged Erika’s scalp and pulled at it, that night they made love on her couch.

  ***

  Erika sat at a table in the corner of her café, a to-go cappuccino at her elbow, and curled around her cellphone like a teenager.

  Erika: Steph?

  Erika: It’s been a few days. Can we talk today? Tell me when you’re free and I can go to your house.

  Erika: I’m sorry about the barbeque. My family isn’t all that… nice.

  Erika: They’re judge-y. I’m sorry you had to hear the things they said.

  She regretted sending those messages instantly upon sending them, but she steeled herself and took a sip of her hot drink. Thank god the café was somewhat empty and not many people would see her here.

  Edward sat beside her, a large black coffee in his hands, and judged.

  “You know, if one minute just in Mom’s presence without even talking to her already scared off your girl—face it, Erika, it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Ed, if you don’t shut up—”

  “I’m just saying!” he interrupted. “Did you see the way she was staring at the floor? It was like they were all monsters that would kill her if she so much as glanced at them.”

  “Did you see how they talked about her?” Erika asked him, voice filled with venom. “They knew she was right there, they knew she could hear them.”

  Ed paused.

  “Well, you already knew they didn’t approve of her.”

  “And that gives them permission to tell my girlfriend to her face that she’s a weird, badly-dressed, strange woman I found god-knows-where?”

  “But she is weird,” Ed argued, setting his coffee down. “Okay, Erika? She stares at the floor and doesn’t talk to anyone and shrinks away when people wave at her. She doesn’t brush her damn hair—“

  “She’s shy,” Erika told him firmly, and couldn’t help but scowl at him. “Also, the fact that she’s weird and doesn’t brush her hair doesn’t mean anyone—not even you, Edward—gets to fucking badmouth her like that.”

  “I’m not badmouthing her! Also, you’re such a hypocrite. You badmouth me to everyone.”

  Erika stared at him, baffled.

  “What?”

  He rolled his eyes, anger in the corners of his annoyance.

  “Yeah, Todd told me you went around talking to people about me needing a job—“

  “Because you do.”

  “—don’t you think that’s a little fucking humiliating, Erika? You should keep your huge nose out of my damn business—“

  “You,” Erika said, gritting her teeth, “should keep your nose out of my business. I was talking to Todd about him maybe hiring
you because you’ve stopped looking for jobs—are you thinking you’re going to stay at the restaurant forever? As the cashier? Ask yourself, asshole, what’s more humiliating?“

  “It’s the fucking family restaurant and you keep trying to kick me out of it why, huh, Erika? It’s basically here to give us jobs! And I was the fucking owner, I can do whatever I want—”

  “Then take it back,” Erika said, and immediately regretted the words.

  Edward stared at her. “…what?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound, Erika thought, and steeled herself.

  “Stop acting like I’m so high and mighty because I’m taking care of it,” she told him, gripping her cappuccino tightly. “I don’t want to manage the damn restaurant, Ed. It was always going to be yours, and now I have to take care of your mess like always, and I only badger you about leaving for another job because you told me you would. You promised. You said you’d give it to me and get out of my hair and yet here you are. You think I’m upset you won’t leave?” She looked him in the eye. “I’m upset because you lied.”

  Edward opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of something to answer, before his eyebrows lowered over his eyes and he turned back to frustration.

  “I didn’t lie,” he argued, “I didn’t—it’s not my fault you thought it was a real promise or anything, and besides we’re almost fucking thirty, Erika, what do little promises even matter?”

  “Yeah, what do promises even fucking matter,” Erika muttered, looking down at her phone where no new texts had arrived. “Stay as the cashier if you want, Ed. Want me to stop telling people to hire you? I can do that. But I’m trying to move on with my damn life, and I think maybe you should do. Maybe strive for something better.“

  “I’m not you,” Ed said, angry and wounded. “I’ve never been married, no job I’ve had has been successful—”

  Erika pocketed her phone and stood up.

  “Ed, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m here if you need help. You know that. But it’s your life, and your mistakes are not my fault, so I’d appreciate if you stopped complaining about me managing your restaurant and if you stopped insulting my goddamn girlfriend. I need to go now. I’ll see you.”

  “Erika,” he tried, deflating at once. “You don’t need to leave dramatically or anything, come on. I’ll stop badmouthing your Stephanie, okay?”

  Erika didn’t really want to be there anymore, so she shook her head, repeated her goodbye, and left.

  ***

  Erika laid down on her couch, her house blissfully empty for once—even her dog was being taken for a walk by her dad—and felt, generally, very sorry for herself. Steph hadn’t texted her yet.

  Erika wondered if Steph had told Jay what happened. Jay didn’t really like Erika’s family despite being warm toward her, and Erika couldn’t blame him. God knew what they said about him, the brown foreigner.

  Erika’s mind wandered. She was waiting for Steph, didn’t want to think about the restaurant, her family, or her semi-fight with her brother. All she wanted, she realized suddenly, was to be in Steph’s couch instead. She could tell her girlfriend what she’d said to Ed and Steph would probably furrow her brows, say plainly that Ed was an ass, and then grow flustered at her own frankness.

  Maybe. After all, Ed’s sin had been to lie, but Steph had lied, too.

  Erika sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, and felt her phone buzz on top of her stomach.

  Steph: Hi! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

  Steph: I didn’t mean to ignore you, I promise! My phone was out of battery and I didn’t want to go knocking on your door, I don’t even know if you’re home,

  Steph: But yes, um, let’s talk? I also should explain some things…

  Erika sat up on the couch.

  Erika: Hey, it’s okay. I was at the restaurant ‘til now anyway

  Erika: But I’m home now, if you want to come here?

  Steph: Yeah, it’s better, since Don and Ve are here… if we do this at home they WILL eavesdrop on the whole thing ):

  Erika: Ok. I’m just on the couch, the door’s open, you can just walk in

  Steph: Ok…

  It took her the fifteen longest minutes of Erika’s life to arrive, and when she did she looked better than she had the other day. Erika got up from the couch to greet her and couldn’t help her surprise: Stephanie looked better than Erika had ever seen her. Her hair was thick instead of just wild and her expression was… calmer. More settled. There was still dirt under her nails and cat hairs everywhere, but she stood in the middle of Erika’s room without fidgeting or looking anxiously around.

  “You look better,” Erika said, maybe too honestly, because Steph flushed in embarrassment and looked down. “I mean—not that you looked bad before. You just look… better.”

  “I’m better with my friends around,” Steph said with a shrug. “Thing aren’t so bad if I’m with family.”

  Somehow that stung, too, because that meant Erika hadn’t counted, all this time.

  “I see,” Erika said, and sat back down on the couch. Steph sat in an armchair by her and not beside her. “Look, Steph, I’m sorry about my family. They’re… judge-y, like I said, and this wasn’t how I wanted you all to meet.”

  “They don’t like me,” Steph said.

  Erika grimaced. She couldn’t really deny it. Steph seemed to deflate at Erika’s silence, to grow smaller—already worse than she’d been when she walked in.

  Maybe the problem was Erika.

  “As I said, they really loved Luciana,” Erika tried, gentling her voice, “so there’s no accounting for their taste.”

  Steph made a thoroughly unhappy face at the mention of her ex, which wasn’t exactly the reaction Erika had expected.

  “You loved her,” Steph murmured, arms crossed defensively across her stomach. “So is there accounting for your taste?”

  “Don’t say that,” Erika said, growing a bit angry at Steph’s doubt—Steph could doubt herself all she wanted, god knew she had enough self-image issues and shyness to fuel a tank, but she shouldn’t doubt Erika. “I’m not the one second-guessing everything, I wanted you to meet my parents, my family, even if they’re bastards. Don’t doubt my choices even if you can’t possibly understand why I’d like you.”

  Steph’s face twisted.

  “You know that’s not it,” she snapped. “It’s not that I can’t possibly understand—that’s not how it works. It’s not like I want to be so fucking anxious and self-conscious about everything.”

  “Like you’re self-conscious about me? I mean—your friends arrive here and the first thing they say is Who is Erika, you understand I’m a little bit confused? why didn’t you tell them? You didn’t tell anyone, did you? Does anyone in your life know about us?“

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” Steph said, covering her face with her hands. “Okay, Erika? I’m a piece of shit and I didn’t tell a single fucking person. It’s not because I’m ashamed of you, it’s because—because…”

  “You’re not certain,” Erika completed for her, hands curling into fists. “That you’ll stay with me for sure, that you’ll stay in this town at all, that everything will be fine. You’re not certain about me, are you? You’re not—you’re not serious about me.”

  Steph stared at her like a deer caught in headlights and Erika just—it was just so much easier to be angry instead of heartbroken, right then, to let her face twist in a scowl instead of letting herself cry. She hadn’t wanted to believe it but there it was: Stephanie’s guilty face. It was so tiring to be so sad and Erika had been sad for so long with Luciana. She was positively exhausted of it.

  Maybe it wasn’t fair to Stephanie, but Stephanie hadn’t been fair to her.

  “No, it’s—" Steph tried, “It’s not that—"

  “No?” Erika said, standing up at once. “It’s not that? Then why do the best friends of your heart with whom you want to live not even know my name?“

  “Well, it’s not like I inv
ited them here!” Steph snapped back. “They just showed up. And it’s not a sin to need time, Erika!”

  “We were talking about kids the other day,” Erika said, baffled.

  “In the hypothetical! In the future! Not now!”

  And it was another fucking wound on Erika, and Steph must have noticed because she flinched as if Erika had struck at her. She lifted her hands to rub harshly against her face, up into her hair.

  “I didn’t mean—” she tried, “Erika, it’s not that I’m not serious about you, I didn’t mean to—“

  “To seem so fucking guilty?” Erika spat at her.

  She remembered that day, sitting on her couch with Luciana doing paperwork in the armchair. They’d been arguing without heat for minutes without end when Erika finally figured out where Luciana was going with any of it. You want a divorce, don’t you?

  And then came Luciana’s guilty face.

  “I’m not guilty of anything!” Steph shouted, and when she looked up at Erika she was angry too—face red with it instead of embarrassment or bashfulness.

  “Then at least stop saying I’m out of your league! Stop saying you’re a piece of shit! Stop acting like you’re—”

  “Like I’m awful, just like your whole fucking family believes?”

  “I told you not to listen to them! They’re bastards, but you’re the one letting it get to you! I know you have your issues—“

  “My issues,” Steph repeated.

  “Yes! Yes, Stephanie, your issues with self-image and how you can’t look people in the face—”

  “I thought you were okay with that,” Steph said.

  “I am, okay? I’m just saying there’s a reason people say those kinds of things and you’re not helping at all, and you know it’s not healthy, the way things are! You haven’t bought furniture yet, everything in that house belonged to the Sheriff!”

  “I thought you liked my house,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “I do,” Erika said, and it was the truth. “I do, but I like it because of the potential of it. Fuck, Steph, I’m a long-term kind of person, okay? I was imagining us in there. But you’re not sure about staying even after all this time, if you’re just going to keep fucking lying to me, then why don’t you just leave already?”