Matt: You need me with him?
Pria/Ana: No, stay with your sister. Is everything all right there?
Matt: Hell yes. I’m going to be an uncle. The favorite uncle. I made that child promise me in utero. Best place to make alliances. Ask my siblings ☺
I can’t help it but laugh at that silly comment.
“What if she dies?” Jacob finally speaks up. “What am I supposed to do then?”
“She’ll need you to protect her baby and care for her husband because he’ll be broken-hearted.” I can’t hold the tears and let them roll trusting the night to hide them. “Be the big brother you are.”
There’s this wrenching pain inside my chest, similar to the one I experienced during Mom’s last days or when Mae ended up in the hospital. The one that takes over when I think about Dad and realize he doesn’t have long.
“I guess not having closure after Norah died really messed you up. Can I help you?” I watch the lake, and then Pria. There are times I want to dunk her in the middle of a river so she’d stop offering to help me. I don’t want her help because I’m becoming addicted to her, and when she leaves again, I’m going to crash. The same way I did the first time.
“Norah isn’t all of it. My entire life is a complex story I’d rather never rehash—with you.”
Pria watches me, then stares at the sky and looks back at me with an intent gaze that breaks me in seconds.
“Norah was a few years older than me.” I fail to stay quiet. Pria has become so many things, like my best friend, my personal journal and my lifeline. I tighten my grip, hoping she doesn’t slip away—ever. How did she snuck under my skin so easily again? Was I wrong about my love for her? “Five.”
“How old were you?”
“Almost twenty when I met her.” Her twinkle eyes observe me, and as she’s about to speak, I interrupt her. “Don’t say I was a kid or that I should’ve moved on by now, please.”
“She was special, Jacob. No one will take that away from you.” Pria pats my leg. “What happened?”
“Cancer.” I freeze because I can’t continue talking about this. Not right now, after the fear of losing my little sister has crippled me.
“I hate the C word.” She sighs, breaking the silence. “Mom, the nurse, cared for everyone but herself. For a couple of years she felt sick. Weird fevers, fatigue…and never listened to me when I told her to go to the doctor. Mae and I escaped from her little prison for a week. Mae’s birthday. I took her to Hawaii, against Robbie’s advice, and despite Mom’s anger. When we came back, Mom looked so sick. The cancer had consumed her and there wasn’t anything the doctors could do at that stage.
“She lasted only two months with us after they diagnosed her. I made sure that for those two months, she was comfortable and loved. I spent most of my time caring for her, loving her, reading her favorite romance novels to her. Nothing I did was enough to fill that void she left behind. I prepared myself, but the pain of losing a loved one never lessens. My only comfort is knowing she’s no longer suffering and that someday I’ll see her again. One day, when your time comes, you’ll be in heaven with Norah too. For eternity.”
I want to say more, but I don’t because talking about the past is never constructive and always destroys me. My thoughts travel to that time when the doctors told me I had killed two people while being an irresponsible brat. Then when I was informed I wouldn’t be able to have a family of my own, and finally the moment I stumbled upon Norah…and then too soon after, the loss of her and Hunter. My last chance to have a family.
“Work it out and understand your sister’s view on the baby. Be with her.” Pria breaks the silence, and I no longer continue to think about how I became part of that small family and how I lost them. “The key is thinking how magnificent it is to spend the day with the ones you love, making them happy, and being happy with them. Not on focusing on how little you might have left with them.”
This woman is too strong. Life made her resilient. Here I am complaining about something that might not happen, hurting for a relationship that destroyed me, while she gives me advice. She’s the one who lost her mom, and watches her dad vanish a little bit more on a daily basis, all the while hoping her sister, who has a terminal illness, will stay around for longer than predicted.
“You’re going to be an uncle, Jacob.” She smiles at me, before leaning over and whispering, “But if you don’t act fast, Matthew is going to become the favorite one.”
An uncle. I rotate my neck several times trying to relax my muscles before we head back to the house for me to face AJ.
“I’m not sure where I’d be if you weren’t around, Pria.” I stand up and pull her to me.
“You’ve survived long enough without me.” The tone is casual, but she escapes from my grasp. “You’ll survive a lifetime without me.”
She turns around and sways her hips all the way back to the house. The thought of losing her again tightens everything inside me. Fuck, I swore Norah that I’d never talk to Pria again. Well, that girl I composed shit for. I touch my bicep and shake my head. Nor had I removed her tattoos. In fact, we’ve always been together in some kind of relationship.
“One song is all I ask and you’ve written thousands to her,” Norah claimed. “MJ said thousands. Swear that you’ll never see or speak to her again. Never.”
“I have no fucking idea where she is. She’s in the past.”
“You’ll write something for me to immortalize me?”
I promised I would—I couldn’t. My siblings did it for me. To this day I don’t know if she listened to it before she died.
“Twinkle?” She stops but doesn’t turn around. “Can we head home, please? I need you, babe.”
“Ana, the name is Ana,” she complains. Her back stiffens and something in the air shifts. “Head to the truck, I’m going to say goodbye.”
After visiting Fred, Maeve asked to join us. Twinkle agreed and I didn’t have the heart to tell Maeve no, that Twinkle didn’t have the energy to care for her right now. Twinkle isn’t as strong as she presumes to be. Every night after visiting her father she crumbles in my arms. To make matters worse, during dinner, Maeve badgered her sister with nonsense about her own death and the preparations Pria and I should make for when it happens.
Pria chased her food around the plate, but only took one bite during the entire meal. Unable to continue listening to her sister, she began to clean up the table and kitchen. Mae followed her and continued talking. My self-control worked overtime for her. I had the intention of kicking Maeve out after I shook her for being an insensitive bitch. For her end performance, she reminded Pria why Robbie broke up with her, and that she’s adopted.
Pria’s eyes now stare at the floor. She’s at the brink of a meltdown and Maeve doesn’t give a fuck. As I’m about to explode, Maeve begins to cough, grabs my arm, and walks me outside the kitchen. Her cough lowers as we approach the staircase and subsides when we reach the top.
“Is it true?” I dare to ask, forgetting about her fake coughing fit.
“That she’s adopted?” she asks. Not waiting for confirmation she continues. “Mom brought her home when I was almost nine. Pria was only days old, so tiny and cute. She was our precious doll. A small miracle that brought some light into our dreadful lives. The daughter of Dad’s friend—not sure what the story is though.”
“No, about the fucker breaking up with her because you guys are sick?” Pria made it sound as if they had agreed that things between them weren’t working out. A mutual agreement. AJ told me the asshole broke up with her, but never why he did it. “Why was she with him? He didn’t deserve her.”
“He was an asshole. I never liked him. However, he was around during the time that something horrible happened to my sister.” Her grimacing face worries me. She takes a few sips of air and continues. What the hell happened to Pria? “Mom loved Robbie—
he was the perfect kind of boy. That acceptance made Pria believe she loved him.” The answer makes sense. Pria works hard to make her mother happy—even now that she’s dead. “No. She loved him like a roommate with benefits. Robbie was a way to claw out that future Mom wanted for her. Even when her heart wasn’t there, she was busy thinking of someone else that had broken her heart and didn’t deserve her, either.” My instincts tell me to stop her rant and ask who that person that broke her heart was. Me? But I desist; I’m not ready for those kind of answers. “That’s Pria for you, always trying to go above and beyond for everyone else. They did love her, but had a bizarre way of demonstrating it.”
“Parents are weird.” Maeve gives me an agreeable smile.
“That doesn’t matter. You’re a brat and what you did downstairs was fucked up.” I place some ground rules. “This is the only time I’ll allow you to hurt her the way you just did. I don’t give a shit that she’s your sister. You’re welcome here, but you check those dreadful issues at the door. She’s your sister, not your caregiver. You can’t get away with this behavior just because you’re a spoiled bitch.”
“No, I’m not spoiled. I’m dying, and I like to exploit my fate when convenient and possible.” Maeve’s smile reminds me of Pria’s when she gets away with murder and can’t hide the glow of victory. Nothing of what I said wavered her. Damn, these chicks are weird. “I need a sweatshirt, tooth paste, and some socks,” Maeve says, giving me a demanding look. “Jacob, make sure they’re comfortable—the sweatshirt and the socks.”
“You’re going to live a long, happy life.” I head to my room and grab what she wants, then to the guest room, and I show her the bathroom and the guest supplies. “Because I’ll make sure you’ll always get the best care, the latest treatments, and take you to the best doctors. If I can help it, Twink won’t go through another loss.”
“You must bring a lot of girls here. I don’t feel very special.” Maeve doesn’t acknowledge what I said. At all. Is she heartless?
“Nah, this crap is from when AJ moved to Seattle.” I open the linen closet and show her the girly towels. “She stayed here for a couple of months and decided to equip the house with all her shit. Just like we have our shit at her house and at our parents’.”
“I love your fam. Everyone is so affectionate and loving.” She grabs the things I hold and waves her fingers while showing me the door. “You guys go into each other’s houses as if you own them, you look after each other, yet stop communicating when she gets pregnant. You might want to check on your sister. That peanut she’s expecting looks grainy, but sounds like a fun new member.”
“Good night, Maeve.” Nosy, like every woman in my life.
“Jacob.” I come to a halt and look over my shoulder. “Cypriana is too good for you. You don’t deserve her, either. We all took so much from her and it’s time to let her go. She has plans. Like collecting stamps on that new passport she got the other day and creating a life of her own.”
A life of her own. The words resonate. A mass of knots stiffen my back. Ten years ago I promised her a life. Now, I can’t give her that cookie-cutter family I promised long ago. Gabrielle, our little girl is never going to be born. Still, I fool myself on a daily basis thinking that our relationship is perfect and that she’s never going to leave my side. Terrified with the idea of my Twinkle moving on, I head downstairs to comfort her. I might not be able to do much, but I can take away some of that sadness Maeve created. This time there won’t be anything I can do to convince her to stay by my side.
I head downstairs and find Pria staring at the sink. The water is running, and her body is paralyzed. Days like today make me grateful I only have the one sister. The female psyche is a science hard to master, and dealing with two becomes an atomic bomb. I shut off the faucet, grab her by the hand, fetch my guitar, and head to that special place I never visit.
When Matthew and I were shopping for a new place, we chose this one because of the third story, the glass room. I don’t visit it often, because of its proximity to the stars. Avoiding it entirely would be great, but I know Pria is going to love it. As we reach the end of the spiral staircase, I open the door and let Pria step inside first.
“Here’s the drum set. I knew this house wouldn’t be complete without it.” Pria finally speaks. She walks the opposite direction of the drums and toward the bookcases and grabs a book. “1984. I could use some Orwell.”
“Mae says you have a shiny new passport.” I take the book out of her hands and set it back where it belongs. Reading about a totalitarian government that keeps the population ignorant sounds like rehashing whatever her mother did. There’s no judgment from my side, as I had a similar past. Different kind of lies, but lies nonetheless. “Where are you planning on going?”
She throws herself against the pile of pillows and looks above toward the sky. A smile finally works its way into those full lips. I take one of the guitars resting on the stands and wait for her answer.
“Not sure yet. First I have to repair the house, then sell it, pay all the bills we have pending, and then I’ll plan.” Her eyes remain focused on the stars but she continues chatting. “Music. I need my headphones and my phone. Unless you’re willing to sing ‘Never Endless Sky’”
“The kind of never endless life?” I strum my guitar once when I ask. “Which I discovered not so long ago?”
“Yes, that one.” Pria comes to a sitting position, clapping excitedly as she pulls her legs closer to her chest. “A life I fear might finish when you go, so please never go, not without me.”
“It is, withou-ou-out me. So stay with me.” I strum a few more accords. “In the Never Endless Sky.” Then press my fingers against the strings, coming into a silence that lasts a few breaths. “Yes, I’ve heard that one a couple of times.”
“Can you play it all night, please?” Her powerful pout tempts me, but I shake my head. This isn’t the time to serenade her the way I hoped for when I wrote the song for her ten years ago. In fact, there can be no serenading. I made a promise to Norah, and Maeve was right. I am not good enough for Twinkle. “At least once more then?”
“Nah, I can play ‘Champagne Supernova,’ one of your favorites.” I recall one of her requests from that week we spent together.
“It’s not anymore. I’d rather hear that this love, just like the never endless sky, will exist until the end of times.” She laughs, rolling her eyes. “I know that the word times drags but I can’t pull that tune unless I’m in the shower and no one within a ten-mile radius is listening. Jensen from L8 Morning does a much better job. It intrigued me what he said the other day…that he doesn’t write his songs. That song isn’t his.”
“You talked to him?”
“Duh, I work with the label company that represents him. Of course, I talked to him while trying to control my urges to throw him my panties. He’s sexy and sings amazingly.” I roll my eyes, but my heart’s pinched by jealousy. “I did some research of my own. JAM appears as the composer. That’s not Matthew’s material. AJ’s out of the run, as her acid lyrics would rust my favorite song. Now can you si-i-ing it? If you do a good job, I’ll throw you my undies.”
Sex, yes. Today I had a bunch of meetings and we didn’t get to have morning sex.
“I missed you, Twink.” Pria gives me a half smile, her eyes captivated by the ceiling. “You’re staying with me tonight, aren’t you?”
I strum my guitar without waiting for an answer, and start singing “Whatever Catches Your Sight.” A big fail Matthew wrote. Which, like all the other shit he creates, made it to the American Top 40 list because we sold it to the right artist for the right audience.
“You’re terrible at taking requests.” She pokes her ears with her fingers and starts blabbing nonsense. “Play something better before I end up tone deaf.”
I play old songs, classic songs that have nothing to do with my mind or my heart. Pria goe
s back to watching the sky after covering herself with the throw blanket. For a long time, I play with my eyes closed, avoiding the sight of Pria watching the stars.
The chords to “Never Endless Sky” come out without me realizing it and I sing it from beginning to end. When I open my eyes, I realize she’s watching me. Her beautiful eyes darken. Only a sparkle illuminates them, and it’s glinting my way.
“I’m sorry that the sky wasn’t endless.” She sighs the words. “I have an internal battle; to try to help you with the burden you carry, or to run away. If I stay, it’ll be like fighting with a ghost all over again. In this case, a real ghost. Unlike when I had to convince my parents that I existed while they battled to keep my older sister alive and granted her all her wishes, because she was going to die. The chances that I’d win against someone who inspired those heart-wrenching, romantic lyrics is next to impossible.”
My head drops because she’s the one person who inspired me to write this song, and so many others.
“No feelings, remember. We only exist—”
The what if’s that go through my head ever since she left my house ten years ago try to swirl around my head. But I don’t let them, not tonight.
“For the moment. Can we go to bed? I doubt you want to do anything here under the stars.”
I don’t kiss her, because we don’t do that. But I take off her blouse and suck on the hollow of her neck. I leave a love mark on her chest next to her heart, and then pull down her jeans where I concentrate on her star, the one she had inked years ago with a J hanging from one of the lower corners and a C from the other.
It still astounds me to think she marked herself permanently. We haven’t really talked about it, but maybe she didn’t simply move on like I thought she had. In some ways, I wish I had just spoken to her that day, rather than assumed she was happy without me. With her tattoo and mine, it is as though we are irrevocably linked. I had broken my promise to Norah before I really made it.
Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) Page 26