by Jenny Hale
Her mom’s words were barely registering because Faith was still in a fog from what had happened with Jake, and the fact that Nan clearly noticed made her self-conscious. Why had Nan even tried to get them all together? Faith wasn’t anything like her sister, and rather than moving forward, the trip had felt like a backward step for them. Her poor mother had packed half her house in preparation, and Faith was ready to leave having used none of what she’d brought. To make matters worse, Isabella was being dragged to adult parties. Where was she anyway? Faith hoped that Casey had her off somewhere playing.
“I’m going in to get some food,” her mom said. “If not, I may not be able to drive home!” She held up her wine, probably the same one that Faith had brought her, only half of it gone. Her mom was not a drinker. She usually nursed her glasses all day, making Faith wonder how she could muscle them down once they got warm. Her mom excused herself, leaving her alone with Nan. Faith sat down as she watched her mom heading for the house. Instinctively, she found herself scanning the crowd for Jake, but she stopped herself.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Nan said out of nowhere.
“Not really,” she answered, but gave Nan a gentle expression to let her know she wasn’t trying to be rude. What was the point in telling her about it? None of it could be changed.
“Well, then. If you’re not going to talk about it, I will. Casey came marching up from the beach, looking like a firestorm. Then, she collected herself, got Isabella, and said she was taking a walk. You are nowhere to be found for ages, and when you finally emerge, you look as though someone has put you through the ringer. Jake darted off like a flash. From what I’ve seen of you and Casey this week, I’m willing to bet that Jake is in the center of your spat.”
How does she do that? Faith wondered. Nothing could get by Nan.
“Let me offer you a little advice. I don’t care whether you want to hear it or not. I’m telling you anyway. Don’t let whatever it is with Jake cloud your issues with Casey. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the two of you. You’ll never agree—you’re too different. But, one day, you’ll learn to appreciate your differences. In order to do that, you both have to find your own happiness. And I don’t mean a man. You have to be happy in your own skin. You are who you are, Faith. And you are wonderful. I think it every day.”
How could she feel wonderful when she’d just made a fool of herself with Jake? She always got it wrong. She always came in second. She didn’t want to sit and feel sorry for herself, but the facts were glaring.
“I’d like to tell you something else,” Nan said, breaking her free from her thoughts. “John was just a boy when I met him. He’d moved in a few streets over when we were in high school, and the teacher had put him at a desk in front of mine in our English class. I remember the sweater he wore on cold days—it was a blue cardigan. As I looked at the back of him every day, I wondered about him. I wondered what it was like moving to a new place. I wondered what he did after school. I didn’t love him then. I didn’t know him. But I wanted to know him. That’s how it starts, Faith. Nobody knows if they’re meant for one another—I certainly didn’t know back then that this boy sitting in front of me in English class would be the man that I would spend every day wishing to be with again at the age of ninety. I didn’t know that he’d be the one who kissed my forehead every night before we went to sleep or the one who wasted away the weekends staying in bed, pulling me back in every time I tried to get up. You won’t know, Faith. But if you give up, if you don’t try, you might miss it.”
Nan made it sound so easy. Faith wondered if she’d ever had the trouble that Faith had experienced. “I can’t get it right, Nan,” she said, struggling to get the words past the lump in her throat. “I can’t get any of it right.”
“You don’t have to get it right,” Nan said, smiling, her gaze wise and experienced. “What fun would that be? What seem like big, difficult hurdles to you now will be a blip when you’re my age. It will all be part of your journey to where you’re meant to be. At ninety, I finally have it all straight. I know exactly what I want. It’s simple. I want my family to understand each other, and I want to know that when I leave here, I can sit with John and feel like I’ve done something for my family. That’s all that matters.”
Faith sat quietly, thinking about her grandmother’s words. It was difficult to have Nan’s perspective, given her age and experience. Faith watched the people around her now, how they talked to each other, how they laughed together, and she wondered what she was doing here with them at this party. She didn’t have the kind of money that Jake had. She wasn’t used to his lifestyle. She didn’t agree with the whole reason for this party or the plans he’d made. Being here was causing old wounds to be opened and making her fight with Casey. None of it seemed to be helpful in any way, and she thought again that maybe she’d better just leave. But then, her gaze fell on Jake. He was standing with a group, a drink in his hand, listening to whomever was talking, but his eyes were on her, all the way across the lawn. He was looking right at her. She smiled. Given what had happened, it wasn’t the most obvious choice of response, but it was a natural one. Just like Nan had wondered about John, she wondered about Jake. What if he was like that boy in English class? What if, one day, she’d know him better than he knew himself? Maybe it wouldn’t happen, but maybe it would.
Jake looked away, but she kept glancing over at him. But then, Casey emerged with Isabella and stood next to him. She said something into his ear, and he bent down to talk to Isabella. Faith was far away from them, but she felt farther and farther away as she watched them. He’d told her they should be just friends and she’d got carried away, romanticizing again. She had to face facts: All he wanted was to be friends.
FIFTEEN
Faith didn’t get to say goodbye when she left the party. With so many people there, she hadn’t been able to catch Jake, and Nan was getting hot in the car, so they had to go. Nan had mentioned that she’d said goodbye to him anyway, so at least she could represent them all. Casey wasn’t speaking to Faith—she’d given her the silent treatment all the way home, which was fine because Faith wasn’t in the mood for any further discussion. Isabella had filled the silence, chattering about anything and everything. Her mom and Nan both responded as if nothing was wrong, but Faith knew they could both tell. And after Isabella and Casey went to bed that night, they wanted to know.
She didn’t tell them right away. She was still too upset with Casey. She went straight to her room and closed the door. Once she was alone, and the magnitude of what had transpired was able to finally hit her, she let the tears come. The thing about Casey was that it seemed like she didn’t care, when really she did. She cared so much; she just wouldn’t admit it to herself. She was the cool, collected one—she’d always been that. Sometimes, she needed to let her guard down.
Even though she felt awful, and she just wanted to cry, she got herself together. After a few tissues had been used, the redness under her eyes covered with powder, and a roll of her shoulders to relieve the stress, she went out to face the family. She knew Nan would want to know everything, and she really didn’t want to relive the humiliation of the moment with Jake or her insecurities regarding her sister. She really didn’t even want to hear what Nan had to say, because the fact that she had figured it all out only made Faith feel like she hadn’t. She didn’t have years of experiences to fall back on. She barely had any. All she knew was what she felt right now, in the present. She felt like she couldn’t live up to Casey, and she never would, because the moment she tried to show someone what she felt it hadn’t gone the way she’d planned at all. The embarrassment of it lingered under her skin.
Jake was rich in a kind of way that she had never experienced, the excitement of it sweeping her off her feet but slamming her back down to reality at the same time. He had different views about what the future might look like. And they’d argue about it because she felt that his business decisions were wron
g in so many ways. The problem was that she would love a chance to find a happy medium. Why did they have to agree on everything? What kind of life was that? She had a connection with him, and she knew he could feel it too.
She was relieved to find that Casey was in her room, probably still fuming over their argument. Nan was sitting on the sofa with a photo album in her lap.
Ugh. Those damn photo albums! Faith wanted to scream. She was in no mood to look through any more photos of how blissfully happy she and Casey were as children. That was the trouble with photos: They were like sports highlights—only the good stuff. Well, in reality there was a ton of bad stuff too, and painting a picture of their glorious childhood wouldn’t help right now. She didn’t want to be convinced of how wonderful her life was. There was no changing the way they both felt. And, Faith would be glad when she could finish out this vacation and go back to her regular life. If it weren’t for Nan’s birthday, she’d have already left.
“Have a seat, dear,” Nan said, her eyes knowing.
Her mom came in and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs at the ankles and turning around to view the two of them. She looked concerned.
“What’s going on?” Nan asked.
“It’s complicated,” Faith replied. It felt like someone had a tiny hammer banging at her temples from the inside. Just sitting there was exhausting.
“It always is.”
“Casey is a very extroverted person,” her mom said carefully. She was talking to Nan but looking at Faith out of the corner of her eye. “She will sometimes steal your thunder. But Faith,” she turned to her daughter, “you are wonderful in different ways.”
Her mother was only trying to help, but it was like nails on a chalkboard. It was mother-talk. Her unconditional love was clouding her judgment. How, exactly was Faith wonderful? Was she a wonderful teacher? She’d gotten balloons and more mugs than she could house from her students. Was she wonderful at reading? She’d read so many novels that she had to get another bookshelf. Was she wonderful at being alone? Perhaps. Maybe that’s what she meant.
Nan opened the photo album and Faith let out a sigh. She couldn’t help it. She knew she was acting like a child, but after today, she just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Maybe I wasn’t opening this to show you. If you’re not going to talk to me, then I’m going to look at the photos. In a week’s time, I’ll be parting with them so I want to get a good look at all of them.”
Faith eyed Nan skeptically. She was up to something. She always was.
“Martha, scoot up here between us. I want to show you something.” Her mom complied, and Nan set the book in her mother’s lap, which was conveniently located between Nan and Faith.
Nan leaned uncomfortably across her daughter, and it was clear that it was a struggle to have the book on her lap, so Faith resigned to look at it. There was clearly something Nan wanted to tell her. Her grandmother’s fingers shook a little, her knuckles disfigured from arthritis, as she tried unsuccessfully to grab on to the pages. Her mom helped her. They turned pages together until Nan put her hand flat on a photo, a smile emerging as she tipped the book in Faith’s direction to view it without the glare of the lights obscuring it. It was a picture of Casey as barely a toddler, cradling a newborn Faith in her arms on the sofa as if Faith were her own baby, Faith’s face red, crying the kind of cries only a newborn can produce.
“Oh yes!” her mom said as she tilted her head to look at the photo. “I’d forgotten about that! Casey used to care for you as if you were her own child. I’d have to pry you away from her. She kept wanting to pick you up! I was so worried she’d hurt you because she insisted on carrying you around and taking care of you.” She looked over at Nan, lost in conversation. “I think that lasted a few years, didn’t it, Mom?”
Where were they going with this? Faith was waiting for some lesson in it because that’s how Nan operated. There was always a lesson in her stories. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me what you think I should learn from this.”
Nan pressed her lips into a pouty frown and shook her head. “Are you implying that you should learn something?”
“Yes. Maybe I should learn that she took care of me and now it’s my turn to take care of her or something…”
Nan’s chuckle came out breathy as she said, “That’s pretty good. I was just going to say that it’s inherent to love each other. We love our family—even when they drive us crazy. Casey didn’t care if you were screaming your head off. She wanted to care for you anyway. I could draw a parallel…”
“Is that what I’m doing? Screaming my head off?” She could feel the anger filling her up. Everyone was against her! She’d done everything she was supposed to! She’d stayed quiet when Casey and Scott had gotten together! She’d stood at their wedding to wish them a happy life! She’d taken chances like Nan had said! How many times could she go over these same facts in her head? There was no other way to look at it! Nothing could be changed. Nothing could be rearranged in a different perspective to make her problems any less. She was meant for the life she had, and she was trying too hard for something else. It was exhausting her. Thank God, she’d get to leave before she could know Jake any more, or he’d hurt her too. He’d said that himself in different words.
“Is that the parallel you want to draw?” Nan said, her face contorting into an expression of sadness.
Why was she being given a lesson when Casey should equally, if not more, be sitting there having advice handed to her. Faith always seems to be the one who has to compromise, the one to make an effort.
“Don’t look at me like that, Nan. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve finally figured everything out!”
With that statement, Nan threw her head back and in her southern accent that only reared its head on occasions like these, she said, “Lord, help her!”
“What?” Faith said, her eyes pinned on her grandmother. She had a mixture of emotions. She wanted so badly for Nan to tell her what to do, if there were any way to change what was, but she also felt indignant, annoyed that everyone seemed to be ganging up on her.
“Sweet girl, if your life is exactly the way you want it, then that’s fine. But I have a sneaking suspicion, given your recent behavior, that this is not the case.”
She was irritated, frustrated. Without a word, she got up and walked over to the door leading to the wraparound porch outside. If she didn’t get outside right now, she was going to suffocate. Her mom tried to get up, but Nan stopped her. Faith ignored her mother’s efforts. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She walked out, shut the door behind her, and let the noise of the angry night surf swell in her ears as she took a seat on one of the rockers. The warmth in the air felt heavy around her, settling on her shoulders.
Faith waited for the calm that would inevitably come from being alone. As a child, she’d come out on the porch at night at their beach cottage, cocooning herself in the hammock. Back then, she didn’t know anything about worry or sadness, and being alone was a nice change. Now, as she tried to get herself together, she just felt different. Being here had made being alone feel different, and that only added to her agitation.
The door behind her opened, but she didn’t look to see who it was. It was probably her mom, ignoring Nan’s suggestion, and coming out to check on her. She loved her mother, but she was tired of talking. It wasn’t going to change anything. All it would do was point out the obvious.
“I do think about other people,” Casey said, walking around to face her. “And, yes, I enjoy being happy. It beats the alternative.” She sat in the other rocker and looked down at the floor. Faith followed her line of vision, noticing how the new lumber was a stark contrast to the old wood floors of their childhood cottage. “If you weren’t so busy being miserable, you could be happy too. It’s a mindset, you know.” She looked back up at Faith. “I should be miserable. I never get to see you, and when I do, we fight, I’m trying to be in the present, not dwelling on the past, and—yet again—I’ve stepped on
your toes. We’ve never really resolved whatever the issues were with Scott, and now I’m losing him. That entitles me to be miserable, but I’m not. You, on the other hand, have had nothing go wrong in your life, apart from a crush that didn’t amount to anything, yet you can’t be happy to save your life.”
“Casey, I don’t have feelings for Scott anymore, but I am still hurt, because you should’ve stopped to look at my face when you left the party with him. You should’ve taken in what was around you and realized that I was there! But you were so worried about yourself that you never even noticed me, or my feelings, nor did you think to ask—not then or after. Why did you think I wanted you to see him? Why did you think I was so excited to get you two together? Not to become a couple! Because I’d found someone I truly enjoyed being with, and I wasn’t in your shadow. I trusted you enough to share that with you.” She was rambling, and she caught herself, so she stopped. When she looked over at Casey, her sister was crying.
“Do you know why I didn’t notice you?” she sniffled. “Because, for the first time in my life, I found that one person who complemented me in a way that no one else ever had. He was so full of life and genuinely interested in me as a person that I fell in love with him instantly that night, and everything else faded away. When I was with him—you’re right—I didn’t notice you because I didn’t notice anyone. He was perfect for me, Faith. I knew you liked him, but it had been years! You hadn’t seen him in ages, and all of a sudden you started seeing him again. But as friends. I didn’t think it was that serious at the time.” She tipped her head back as if the gesture would keep the tears from rolling down her face, but they came anyway. “For me, it was like a lightning strike. He’s the man I promised to love for the rest of my life. He’s the daddy of my little girl. I miss having coffee with him at the kitchen table in the mornings, even though I had to look at the back of his newspaper,” she said, laughing through her tears. “I miss having to pick his book off the floor because he’d leave it there and I’d nearly trip over it. I miss… him. I’ve tried to move on, and this trip… it all was in an effort to do that, but you know what? It doesn’t stop me from crying every night when I go to bed. I miss him so much, Faith.” She burst into tears.