by Sara Rider
“But you’ve got to admit smashing the tiles into tiny pieces was fun.”
“Says the person who didn’t end up at the hospital getting stitches in her thumb.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Do you remember when Mom tried to make a picture of a dolphin and it looked like a—”
“Don’t say it! It was bad enough watching Mom forever destroy the most beloved creatures of the sea. I can’t handle my baby sister saying that word.”
“A penis!” She burst into laughter while he groaned.
“You are too young to know what that word is,” he grumbled.
“I’m thirty years old, Eli. I took Ms. Cumming’s sex-ed class in fifth grade just like you.”
He sat down on top of the barrel, chuckling. “No one teaching sex-ed should be named Shirley Cumming.”
She bumped his shoulder with her hip until there was enough room for her to perch next to him. “Do you remember Manny the Masturbating Monkey?” She laughed so hard, she could barely get the words out between gasps of air.
He lost it at that memory, convulsing into a fit of hysterics.
The door swung open once more. Jake stepped inside, frowning. “Everything okay here?”
Eli looked at Julia, and the pair of them burst into more laughter.
Jake picked up a keg, shaking his head as he walked out the door.
“What about this?” Eli unwrapped the newspaper from an ornate crystal vase in the box at his feet and held it up.
Julia smoothed back her ponytail and frowned. “Is that the one we bought from that weird thrift shop for Mother’s Day when I was ten?”
He nodded. She came over and took it from him, examining it more closely. “God, we had terrible taste back then.”
“Speak for yourself. I think the flower design is classic.”
She laughed. “Sure, if you were born in the 1880s. But I know how to use it. Let’s set it out front with a couple small flowers by the guestbook.”
They continued sorting through the piles of dust-covered furniture and boxes until their backs couldn’t take any more bending and lifting. Luckily, they’d found everything they needed for the ceremony. It wasn’t the first time they’d had to dig around in this stuff, since they’d moved it up from a storage facility in Los Angeles, but it felt like he was seeing everything again for the first time. The memories hit him hard with each piece of delicately patterned china and lace tablecloth they looked at. It was good to be doing it with Julia. It had been too long since they talked about their mom. She would have wanted them to work together on this.
Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was the useless cog in all of this. If he disappeared tomorrow, Julia would still pull this ceremony off without a hitch. Just like she did the funeral a decade ago. He was a thirty-two-year-old man and still had no damn clue how to be an adult about his mom’s death.
“Oh, there’s one more box,” Julia said, awkwardly shuffling around the piles of stuff to the back corner of the dark storage space. She struggled to lift it, so he quickly came over to help.
His arms felt like they were going to rip right off his shoulders when he lifted the box. “What’s in this thing?” He carried it to the front where there was more light, and opened up the folded cardboard flaps of the box that, from the images on the side, once housed a crate of bananas.
“It’s photo albums,” Julia whispered, pulling out an ancient burgundy book from the top. She pulled back a sheet of sticky, crackling plastic from the first page and removed a photo. “Look.”
It was Eli, round-faced with hair mussed in all directions and a pair of GI Joe pajamas on his skinny body. It was Christmas morning, judging by the decorated tree in the background, and he was holding up a bright red remote-controlled car.
“Oh man, I remember that Christmas. You begged Mom for that car for months and…” Her voice travelled off as soon as her memory led to the same place as his.
A week after he’d opened it, he’d accidentally left it outside and it had been stolen. At the time, he’d had a fit because his mom wouldn’t replace it. As an adult, what he felt looking at that old photo was a million times worse. Now he understood how hard his mom had to work to afford the expensive toy. How ungrateful he’d been to be so careless about it. How she’d probably been so much more disappointed than he was in that moment.
His throat went dry and a strange feeling hit him in the chest—like his lungs were a pair of shoes with the laces pulled too tight.
Julia set her hand on his shoulder. “Mom was always great at Christmas presents, huh?”
He nodded. She set the picture back in the plastic and flipped through a few more pages before setting the album back in the box. “Thanks so much for doing this with me.”
“Anything for you, sis,” he said with as much of his normal good humor as possible. He picked up the box of stuff they were taking with them and headed out of the hallway.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Julia said as she trailed after him. “Maybe we could have a photo album at the ceremony. Just a little memory book that the people can flip through. Maybe that’s something you could put together?”
He stumbled over a folding chair left on the ground. “Yeah, of course.”
She beamed at him. “Great!”
He sucked in a breath and forced a smile onto his face. “Great.”
Nora added one extra dash of chopped cilantro to her white chili and examined the effect. It was almost too pretty to eat, really, but her stomach was growling like the unseen monster in a horror movie. She’d skipped lunch, and was now feeling pretty grateful that past Nora was considerate enough to prepare the chili yesterday for her current self.
She laid out her blue-and-silver woven placemat, arranged her cutlery, and poured a glass of cold water from the jug she kept chilled in the fridge. She sat down and picked up her spoon. “Finally.” Her stomach growled in agreement.
The doorbell chimed. She was so hungry, she considered ignoring it, but there was only one person who rang her doorbell on a weeknight, and only one person who could cause the flutter of excitement in her belly before even seeing him.
She pulled opened the door and grinned. “Hi.”
Eli met her smile with one that made her toes curl in her slippers. “Hey. I was in the mood for some company tonight, and instead of breaking down some more walls, I figured I’d see if you were up for some company, too.”
If she hadn’t spent so much time staring at his face lately, she might have believed this really was a casual visit, but there was a tightness around his eyes. “I’m pretty sure the only untouched walls left are the exterior ones at this point.”
“Are you questioning my manly renovation skills?”
“No,” she said over her shoulder as she led him down the hall. “Just your sanity.”
He smacked her on the butt, causing her to yelp and jump forward.
“Watch it, now.” He stopped and sniffed the air. “What is that?”
“White turkey chili. Hungry?”
He looked at her with dark eyes that reminded her of burning embers. “Famished.”
Every muscle in her body slackened like she was ready to fall into his arms. Not for the first time, she wondered why she was fighting her attraction to him when they were drawn together like some undiscovered gravitational force. “I—”
The doorbell rang again. Nora frowned. The sound was so unexpected, she was barely able to understand what she was hearing.
“Nora? Sweetie, is this the right house? Oh gosh. Am I in the wrong place? Nora? Nora Pitts?”
Nora squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh no.”
“Need me to get rid of whoever that is?”
She shook her head, unwilling to open her eyes yet. “No—”
“Nora? Honey, is this any way to greet your mother? I know it’s your house. I recognize the welcome mat.”
Eli’s hands went to her shoulders, steeling her with his strength. “Unexpected visit?”
“The only kind,” she muttered.
He followed her back down the hallway toward the front entrance, where they found her mom having already let herself in and staring at the store-bought print near the front door. Her graying hair fell in long, loose waves over her shoulders. Her clothes had a newly acquired West Coast feel, with a Cowichan sweater and multi-colored, floor-length skirt. Catherine Pitts had always managed to be the kind of woman who looked elegant despite the fact she didn’t wear expensive clothing. Nora had figured out long ago that it was probably all the costume jewelry her mother wore, but she was pretty sure she’d never be able to pull off the same look without the extra panache that could only come with age, experience, and just the right amount of kookiness.
“Mom, what on earth are you doing here?”
Catherine ran her finger over the top right corner of the canvas, as though that would make it come alive. “Do you think this is supposed to be a fallopian tube?”
Nora had bought the print six years ago, and Catherine asked that same question every time she’d seen it. No matter how many times they’d looked at it, the tree in the background of the picture was just a tree. “Mom.”
Finally, her mom turned around, flashing a brilliant smile that only widened when she saw Eli. “Well, hello. Who are you?”
“Eli Hardin.” He took her hand and shook it politely. “The neighbor.”
“Neighbor, huh?” She glanced at Nora. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“Mom!”
Eli let go of her hand. “I should get going.”
Nora’s heart sank, but it was for the best. “Yeah.”
“You’re coming to the fundraiser on Saturday, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
He smiled before kissing her cheek, then waved to Catherine. Nora waited until he’d shut the door behind him before speaking. “Tea?”
“Jasmine?”
“Of course.”
Her mom patted her cheek. They headed back to the kitchen, where Nora’s bowl of chili was cooling. She set the kettle to boil on the stove and poured her food into a Tupperware container, having lost her appetite the moment she heard her mom’s voice. It was almost bizarre how easily they slipped into their old routine. It was as familiar as an old sweater. Her mom hunted down the mugs in her cupboard while Nora poured the tealeaves into the diffuser. They didn’t have much in common, but tea was the rebar in their mother-daughter bond.
Once everything was laid out just right, they sat down on her couch with their mugs. Nora tucked her feet under her and inhaled the delicate, soothing aroma of her tea. “I thought you were at a silent yoga retreat.”
Her mom threw her hand in the air. “It turned out to be so boring. Nobody talked at all!”
Nora laughed, but just a little. It was still hard to look at this woman and not be angry at the fact she’d cheated on her dad. What happened in their relationship was technically none of Nora’s business, but her parents had always treated her like the adult in the family, the one who made dinners and reminded them when she had soccer practice. She’d been their unwilling sounding board whenever they wanted to complain about each other or their marriage, and it was hard to extricate herself from that role now. “I thought that was the point.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to do yoga without having to listen to a bunch of twenty-two-year-old human Barbies talk about how hungover they are while looking fresh as daisy puke, only to have them whisper at me that my spine isn’t straightened properly while I’m doing downward dog. I just didn’t realize there’d be no talking after all the yoga. I mean, it’s not natural not to talk to anyone for a month. And the worst part was they confiscated my wine bottles.” She paused only to take a cleansing breath and sip her tea. “Anyway, I’ve decided a trip to Italy would be more civilized, and since I have a couple days before my flight, I thought I’d come see you in your new home.”
“That sounds like quite an adventure.”
“It’s the only way to live.”
Nora glanced down at the rogue bits of leaves swirling in her tea like they were trying to tell her something—a message in some kind of code she’d never been able to decipher no matter how many thousands of cups of tea she’d consumed in her life. At least, that’s something her mom always liked to believe. Nora wondered how it was possible to love someone so much while resenting them so fiercely at the same time. She couldn’t forgive her mom for cheating on her dad and breaking up their marriage, but that didn’t mean she loved her any less. This was her mom. The person who’d made her homemade buckwheat waffles whenever she’d had a craving, and read her The Feminine Mystique as a bedtime story. Catherine’s flightiness and itchy feet had caused her family more than enough headaches growing up, but she was also the person who gave Nora the confidence to move out on her own and follow her dreams.
Her mom leaned over and patted Nora on the knee. “So how’s life?”
“It’s okay. The college here is a lot smaller than my old school, and I miss having all the research infrastructure, but I managed to get some good results the other day, and I’m going to present at a conference in Portland next month.”
“I asked about your life, not your job.”
Nora’s stomach clenched. She tucked her knees up to her chest, feeling like a child. “My job is my life.”
“You’re so like your dad.”
There was no comfort in the awkward silence that followed. Talking about her dad right now was like squeezing into a favorite pair of jeans that no longer fit.
Her mom cleared her throat and looked away. “So, how is your dad?”
“He’s…Dad.” It was all she could say. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t not fine. He was, as far as she could tell, just existing in the only way he could.
Her mom sighed so softly, Nora almost didn’t hear it. For a moment, she wondered if her mom was lonely. She was the kind of woman who attracted people like bugs to a lantern on a warm summer night. It was impossible to toss out the name of a city or country, no matter how far across the globe, in casual conversation without her interrupting to tell you about her friend Bobby from Dublin she met at a poetry slam, or Julissa from Johannesburg who loved ceramics. Now she finally had the freedom to travel and explore and do everything she wanted, and yet she seemed…sad.
Nora didn’t want to feel sorry for Catherine, but she couldn’t help but wonder if living in her dad’s shadow for so long—with his constant grumbling about work every time she suggested a family getaway or that they order takeout other than pizza—hadn’t rubbed the glow off her dreams.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Catherine finally said, as though speaking the words would somehow make them true. “I’m just glad you’re here instead of moping around at home with him. It makes me so happy to see you following your dreams and making nice friends, like that handsome neighbor of yours.”
“Mom, if you want to fish for information about my love life, you’re going to need better bait.”
Her mom grinned. “Ah, but you’re admitting you do have one.”
Nora wrapped her hands more tightly around her mug and thought about Eli. How close she’d been to abandoning all sense when she saw him tonight. And then where would she be? Because no matter how strong their attraction was, they were still too different. She didn’t want to end up like her parents—sad and lonely and filled with regret.
“No. No love life at all.”
12
“Mom, you forgot to pack your phone charger.” Nora held up the white cord.
Catherine frowned. “That’s not mine.”
Nora rubbed her forehead. “Yes, it is. You just charged your phone with it an hour ago.”
Her mom squinted at the charger. “No, I don’t think it is.”
Nora huffed and shoved it in her mom’s bag. “It is.”
“Okay.” Her mom patted her on the cheek. “You always were so organized.”
It took all o
f her self-control not to get angry, because being organized was one thing. Staying organized while her mom was here was an entirely different battle. Not only had Catherine been attempting to redecorate Nora’s house with colorful items she’d found at antique shops, she’d also been pathologically incapable of putting away dishes or clothes, or anything else.
Nora had spent every free minute sweeping and tidying and scrubbing toothpaste out of the bathroom sink. But trying to maintain a basic standard of cleanliness with her mom around wasn’t nearly as hard as dancing around the subject of her infidelity. It was too hard not to draw parallels between her failed marriage and her parents’. Too hard not to be angry.
“Hurry up, Mom. We need to leave soon, or we’re going to miss your flight.”
“My flight’s not until seven o’clock.”
“Your flight’s at four.”
“Are you sure?”
Nora’s phone rang just as she was about to scream in frustration. She looked at the call display and sighed. Her dad. Exactly what she needed at this moment. She snuck off to her bedroom to answer the call. “Hi, Dad.”
“The internet’s not working.”
“Did you reset the modem?” Five silent seconds ticked by before she spoke again. “The little black box next to the printer in your office.”
She talked him through the process, which wasn’t helped by his impatience, but eventually she got him through it. She hung up and sat on the edge of her bed, needing a breather before going back out to deal with her mom.
“Was that your dad?” Nora looked up to see her mom standing in the doorway, expression grim. Nora nodded. “He’s a grown man. He shouldn’t be relying on you for that kind of stuff. You have your own life to live.”
“Seriously?” Nora jumped to her feet, fueled by an uncontrollable rush of anger. “You couldn’t even remember my birthday when I was kid! You made the choice to walk away from your marriage. You cheated on Dad. And now you want to act like the moral superior in all of this?”