Simmer

by Stephanie Rose

  “Drew,” Lisa called as she burst into the lab. “Listen, I need to speak to you. It’s about Sara.”

  “What happened?” I rushed over, imagining the worst. The worst took on all different forms in my brain, and it seemed to take forever for Lisa to spit it out.

  “She had to leave this morning to go back to the city. I made her take the train because she was in no shape to drive all that way.”

  “Is it Victoria?” My blood ran cold thinking of that little girl sick or hurt or . . . worse.

  “No, no she’s fine. Sara’s sister called her last night. Her parents were killed in a car accident. Sara is headed back to help with their funeral.”

  The air drained from my lungs as I fell back on the edge of the desk, stunned and worried as hell. “You’re serious? After all they put her through she has to go back and—”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were pained as she dropped a hand on my arm. “She’s only told me bits and pieces, but I know how awful they were. She’s going back to help her sister, but this is going to be horrible. This is not my place or my business, but she needs you. She’d never ask you because she’s stubborn as shit.”

  “No kidding,” I scoffed, massaging my temples. “She’s not thinking of herself or what this will do to her. Do you know her mother hung up on her on Christmas Eve? Wouldn’t even say Merry Christmas. Who does that to their own kid?” Sara was so broken that night. At the time I was almost grateful since that was the moment she let down the last wall she built around herself and let me in, but I loathed seeing her that devastated.

  “You know,” I huffed and lifted my eyes to the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell to do. “She acts so tough. Never needs any help, can go it alone, but . . .” I trailed off, sick to my stomach at the thought of her on a train by herself, mourning parents who weren’t worth a second of her time.

  “She can’t.” Lisa laughed and shook her head. “Not this time. She’s used to being the caretaker with no support. The only family she has is her daughter. When I first met her, she was almost surprised I wanted to be her friend. As if she couldn’t understand why anyone would waste their time on her.” She frowned and let out an audible sigh. “Broke my heart a little for her.”

  “Mine too,” I agreed, staring off into space as I searched for an answer I didn’t have. “She thinks of herself as a burden, so me and my stupid choice of words the other day nailed that point across to her,” I snickered. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

  “Do you still love her?”

  My head snapped in her direction. “Of course, I do. I miss her so much I can’t even function.”

  She reached into her purse and handed me a piece of paper. “Then fight for her. Show her she’s worth it. This is the name of the funeral home and information about the services. I asked her to text me when she found out, so I could send something.” She offered a sad shrug. “She was too out of it to tell I was lying.” She closed my fingers around the paper and squeezed. “She shouldn’t go through this alone. I would go but I’m not who she wants. You’re the only one that can get her through this. Think about it.”

  I didn’t turn to Lisa’s footfalls as she sauntered out of the lab. I plopped into the chair behind the desk, my breaths quick and heavy as if something barreled over me. I unfolded the paper and looked it over. The funeral was the day after tomorrow. It was enough time for me to find someone to cover the lab, dig out the only black suit I owned, and head down to Queens. The fight we had and the time apart didn’t matter. She had me whether she liked it or not. I wasn’t budging or going anywhere. My only issue was how to not do ninety down the highway to get to her.

  I pulled out my phone and shot a text to my boss telling him I had to have someone cover my shift or close the lab.

  My place was with Sara. Always with Sara. I’d finally make her see she was worth it. She could try to push me away as much as she wanted, but I wasn’t going anywhere—ever.

  Sara

  IT’S AMAZING HOW, despite all the years that pass, some things remain exactly the same.

  My feet seemed to go on autopilot when I stepped off the train at Penn Station and transferred to the subway. I was thankful Lisa wouldn’t let me drive as I didn’t remember most of the four-hour ride from school. My mind replayed years of memories, the loss and hurt accompanying them, stinging so badly it crippled me. Why was I mourning parents I hadn’t seen in almost a decade—parents who made it clear they never wanted anything to do with me or my daughter? Every year I’d send them Victoria’s Christmas picture in the ridiculous hope they’d call and ask to see her—see us. That call never came, and now that they were gone, it never would.

  Trudging up my old block, I was transported back ten years to the last time I was here—the last time I’d ever see my parents alive. My father remained stoic as my mother lashed out at me as she always had, but with a grim finality in her tone. I left their house all alone in this world other than the tiny pea growing inside my belly. Even with all the anger I’d felt, I never stopped wishing for their forgiveness. I grieved their death and the hope I never could let go.

  When I arrived at my old house, spying the same silver 1776 adorning the top of the door, my heart hammered against my rib cage. I climbed the outside steps with shaky legs and pressed the doorbell with a quivering finger. My demons would always reside here, regardless of what world my parents were in.

  The swift clicking of the locks accelerated what must have been an acute panic attack. I grabbed onto the wrought iron rail framing the porch as I tried to slow my quick and shallow breaths. I wished I prayed. Who I was praying to or what I was praying for escaped me, the only thought echoing through my troubled brain was “please help me.”

  When my eyes popped open, I was tackled with a hug. I fell back onto the railing I clutched for support and dropped my bag. A tall and slim mess of black curly hair cried and whimpered into my shoulder, and all I could do was lean my head against hers and weep along with her.

  “Hey, DeDe,” I whispered in her ear, making her sob harder. “I’m here.”

  I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back, studying the little girl I was forced to leave ten years ago. Did we always look this much alike? She could be my twin other than all the dark waves surrounding her face, as my hair was always pin straight. Even as a child, she was the emotional and sensitive one. She needed my comfort after countless sad books or movies or even commercials. My mother would regard her with an annoyed grunt or mutter a “suck it up,” but I always loved that about my sister. This house and everything that went on here turned me into an emotional iceberg at a young age. Denise still had passion and fire and wasn’t afraid to show it.

  Fire and ice.

  I missed Drew so much, I ached. But I couldn’t call him when I was upset anymore, could I? Even though he was the only one in this world who could make it better. I blinked away the second wave of grief and focused on Denise.

  “You got tall, baby sister.” I cupped her cheek. “And so pretty.” The bashful glint in her eyes reminded me of Victoria. Everyone who came in contact with my daughter found her easy to love, and she inherited that from her aunt. I sucked in my bottom lip and straightened, ignoring the impulse to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness for not finding a way to see her all these years. We had a ton to catch up on, and I had loads to make up for.

  “I missed you so much,” she sniffled. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked as she squeezed my hands. “I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back before this.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to see you. I should have answered your call on Christmas Day. I’ve been a terrible big sister, but I intend to make up for it starting now.”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “You had a baby by yourself. And Mom and Dad were so awful about it. I just wish—”

  “I wish, too.” I cut her off. “I wish for a lot of things, but that won’t help us right now. Right now, we need to get through the next couple of days.
We can hash all that out later.” My tears slowed as the caretaker in me came to the surface. It was always easier to focus on taking care of others and ignoring my own needs. I guessed it was a coping mechanism, but I embraced it for the moment. I’d worry about the lasting effects of burying parents who disowned me later.

  “Come in,” she whispered as the same brown eyes as mine pleaded with me. I didn’t realize I froze for a beat, tension seizing my body before I crossed the threshold.

  “Right behind you,” I croaked as she yanked me inside by the hand. The sour scent of lemon furniture polish assaulted my senses as soon as I stepped through the door, the familiarity thickening my throat.

  I studied the living room with an odd anxiety bubbling in my gut. My mother was dead, yet I was expecting her to run out of the kitchen and scream at me for being here. There was nothing like the sinking feeling of being a trespasser in the home you grew up in.

  “You’ll stay here, right?” Denise’s voice was small. “Your bedroom is still empty. Please, Sara? I can’t be here alone for another night.”

  I’d booked a hotel for tonight, unsure if I could sleep in this house, much less my old bed.

  “Yeah, DeDe.” I pulled her into an embrace, her weary head falling onto my shoulder in relief. “Of course, I’ll stay.”

  I trudged up the stairs, bracing myself for the memories that would flood me at the top. The ugly brown rug still covered each step and the entire second floor. Bracing myself, I tiptoed to the door, still somehow afraid my mother would come out of the woodwork and throw me out. My old room was the same. Same sheets I remembered, same curtains, my personal effects gone long before my parents cut me off. I plopped on the bed and let out an audible sigh. This wasn’t my room for many years, but I remembered every second I spent in here, itching to be old enough to go out on my own. But I was never really on my own. I remained tentative and careful—other than the night I took a stranger home and conceived my daughter. Did I ever really feel free of this place?

  The answer came to me in a quiet yes. When I found someone to love me for who I was, but I pushed him away.

  “Hey,” Denise called from the doorway. “You don’t have to sleep in here. My bed is big enough for both of us. You must be tired. What do you say we order Chinese and head to bed?” She wrapped her arms around her torso, her nose scrunched up exactly as when she was a little girl—the little girl I loved and never meant to desert like I had.

  “Sounds good.” I rose from the edge of the bed and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not leaving, DeDe.”

  “No,” she sighed. “But you will. And that’s okay. I’m glad you’re here now.”

  I squeezed her hand and swung it back and forth like when she was little, and we’d walk together. “I’m glad too.”

  “I found out something today,” Denise said as she fixed her eyes on the ceiling. She still had the glow-in-the-dark stars along the rims of her ceiling fan blades. I remembered standing on her bed and almost falling off numerous times, trying to get it just right. They still worked and illuminated the entire room.

  “What’s that?” I mumbled as I fought against my heavy eyelids.

  “Mom and Dad got married a year later than they said they did. I noticed when I was searching through their papers for an insurance policy.”

  My head jerked to hers. “A year later? When was their real wedding date?”

  Her chest shook with a laugh before she turned to me. “Two months before you were born.”

  My mouth fell open in the darkness. That was one hell of a missing puzzle piece.

  “She was only twenty. That’s probably the reason Dad was always so checked out and Mom was always so bitter. They had to get married.” Mom saw me as her missed opportunity, her burden. That stuck with me for my entire life.

  “Well, no one has to, Sara. Everyone has a choice. Although, I think her parents were super strict and made her feel like she had to. That’s probably why we only knew Dad’s parents. I miss them.”

  “Me too.” Our grandparents’ home was our sanctuary until they passed away, and the only memory of love I had as a child. Maybe my mother’s parents did the same thing to her when they found out she was pregnant. My very existence was a large thorn in my mother’s side, and I was beginning to understand why.

  “But again, who really knows? It’s not like they were ever straight with us. I guess I was a big oops after the fact.”

  “Stop,” I scolded as I nudged her with my elbow. The bed was big enough for both of us but didn’t have a whole lot of extra room. “And whatever you were to them, you were my gift.” Her head fell on my shoulder.

  When they brought her home from the hospital, swaddled in pink and already with a tuft of black hair piled on her head, she brought joy to an otherwise sullen house. Mom didn’t smother either of us with love, but she spared Denise of the malice she always directed toward me. I guessed my sister wasn’t a breathing reminder of the detour her life had to take. I had the same reminder, but she was my blessing—not my downfall. I pitied my mother in that moment for never enjoying her daughters like I enjoyed mine.

  “Tell me more about school.” Denise yawned as she cuddled closer to my side, assuming the same position she always had during a thunderstorm. “Any boyfriends?”

  “Nope. Not anymore. It’s . . . all still new. I don’t want to talk about it right now, DeDe. Let’s focus on one tragedy at a time.” I patted her arm.

  “Me neither. My friends think I should go into therapy. I always pick the assholes I know will break my heart. It’s like my own insurance from getting too invested.”

  “You’re twenty. Dating assholes is a rite of passage. I dated my fair share.”

  “Like Victoria’s dad?” She turned on her side and propped her elbow on the pillow.

  “No, he actually turned out to be a nice guy. I didn’t know him long enough the first time we met for him to be an asshole.”

  We shared a laugh. “Toniann even made an appointment with her therapist for me next week.”

  “Toniann is still around?” She was always a cute kid, even if she was Queens’ answer to Full House’s Kimmie Gibbler.

  “Yeah, she’s still herself,” she snickered. “But she was always someone I could talk to. When you left . . .” She trailed off. “I was pretty lonely. I think I’m going to go. Just the once, at least.”

  “Good. Now go to sleep, sis. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

  She fell back on the pillow and nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, Sara.”

  “Goodnight, kiddo.”

  “I love you,” she breathed. My eyes drifted to my sister, out cold already.

  I smiled into the glowing stars on the ceiling, an odd peace drifting in with my turbulent thoughts for tomorrow.

  “I love you, too, baby sister.”

  Sara

  “AT LEAST THE funeral home is in walking distance, right?” Denise offered a nervous laugh as we turned the corner.

  The funeral plans were clear for every step, odd for a couple in their fifties. In her search for some sort of insurance policy, Denise stumbled upon a large envelope with all the paperwork we’d need for the funeral and reading of assets afterward, complete with all necessary contact information. Everything was paid for and planned; she only needed to call the numbers listed. By the time I arrived, everything was already set.

  The painstaking detail in their final wishes brought a whole new level of sadness to the day. They must’ve known their daughters—or anyone for that matter—wouldn’t know them well enough to have any idea what their wishes would be. There would be no church service, only a priest saying a few prayers at the funeral home before a car drove us to the cemetery. We locked eyes and sucked in a long breath before strolling inside.

  Two closed caskets lay at the front of the long room with two floral arrangements on either side. I ambled over to read the cards. One was from my mother’s sister who only lived in New Jersey and didn’t come in person
to pay her respects, and a couple were from my father’s job. I contemplated sending flowers, but why? Why would you send a gift to someone in death who would probably throw it back in your face if they were alive?

  My eyes drifted around the room, avoiding my parents on purpose. When they landed on the wooden boxes, my gaze clouded. Part of me wanted to pound my fists on the wood, demanding an answer for shunning me for so many years. The other part wanted to collapse in tears and beg them for forgiveness for not being the daughter they wanted. I cupped my throat, rubbing away the growing lump that was almost asphyxiating me.

  Other than a half a row of mourners in the middle of the room, it was empty. A morbid thought of my own funeral entered my mind. Would it be as empty as this? Victoria would have a ton of people there for her I was sure, her father and Brianna and all the friends I knew she’d cultivate over the years. No matter what I did in this world, I was leaving behind something precious in her. A tear snaked down my cheek for my parents and the life and love they squandered.

  “Sara, remember Toniann?” The little blonde pixie’s eyes filled with tears as she embraced me in a hug. I was relieved someone other than me was here to give her support, especially today.

  “Where’s the priest?” I asked my sister as I impatiently searched the back of the room. It was a long day already and I wished he’d arrive soon to get the show on the road.

  I found him as he closed the door behind one last mourner. When the man in the dark suit lifted his head, all the air expelled from my lungs in a whoosh.

  "Drew?" I croaked as my eyes slow blinked at the sight before me. He buttoned his suit jacket before making a quick stroll over to me. He had to be an illusion, some kind of mirage my troubled mind conjured to get me through this awful day. How did he know, and how did he get here?

  "Lisa." The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile as he came closer. "She found me at the lab and told me. I left campus yesterday afternoon.”