“Kelsey has a way of pissing me off,” Janet says, echoing my own thoughts.
“I know what you mean.” I dwell on Kelsey's callous nature. “I remember when we were kids. She never liked doing things with us and Dad. She didn't ever get those afternoon outings for ice cream, and I know she didn't understand why Daddy got so upset when she finally found a way to sneak out of them by hanging out with whatever boy she was seeing.”
“Do you think she even misses him?”
“Of course she does,” I insist, though I don't know. Sometimes I catch myself wondering.
The gleam in Janet's eyes reveals she's more blasted than I initially thought, but her words come out lucidly: “I don't know that she cares about anyone other than herself. Don't know if she ever has.”
“I'm sure that, like Mom, she's pissed that he didn't leave a little more behind. I don't think his generosity or authenticity meant much to them.” That I'm even discussing this assures me I'm drunker than I realize, and Janet's so far gone, she'll probably agree about pretty much anything. Shouldn't I be chastising her? I should be the responsible one encouraging her to clean up her act, especially at a family gathering. But I don't want to be responsible. Not tonight. Where has that ever gotten me?
“He was wonderful to us,” Janet continues. “That's the thing about life...cruel, twisted life. You have something beautiful like him in this world, something that makes you feel so special and loved, and then God comes and pulls him right from you.”
God? This is the first time I've heard Janet mention anything about God.
“Do you remember when I started going to church?” she asks. “I'm sure you don't. It was for a little while during college. There was this guy, Simon Baker, who attended the First Presbyterian Church. I thought if I went to the service with him, I'd have a better shot at getting him to go on a date with me. It felt nice, this idea that something else could fill that void, that empty place Daddy left in me—us. But no matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I begged for something to fill it, this nagging emptiness lingered within me. That's when I realized I was just trying to shove anything and everything into that void...I've been trying to do that for a long time.
“When Daddy passed, Mom just...well, she wasn't the best nurturer, and I guess she never had been, but she couldn't reach us. Couldn't talk to us about anything. Couldn't make us feel special or loved. She made us feel like we always had to do things to prove ourselves to her. Kelsey was good at that. She did all the things Mommy liked to do. I think just playing sports made Mom think I was from a different planet. And when Daddy passed, if I talked about it with her, she shut down. Like I betrayed her for loving Daddy. It's as if she withheld her love since she didn't understand me. That's silly, isn't it? Thinking your Mom is withholding love from you?”
“I don't know that it is silly,” I say, a confession I feel guilty for expressing. I believe she blames us for what Daddy did with his money. Like we could have done something to stop him—to make him more responsible. Because she sure as hell couldn't.
“You remember when he would come into the bedroom and tell ghost stories?” Janet asks. I can't tell if this thought came from something I said or if it's just Dammit Janet's drunken mind wandering. However it arose, I go along with it.
“We were way too young for those,” I say.
“I was scared for like two weeks of that damn hand he told us about.”
“That was pretty much child abuse.”
“He got such a kick out of scaring the living daylights out of us, but he was so good. When he hugged you, he made you feel like he was caring about you. You felt adored all over. When Mom hugs you, it's like a fucking chore. Like it's killing her to put her arms around you. How hard can it be to hug your own kid?”
Her mention of children saddens me. Though I don't desire to have any soon, it's something I would like to get around to one day. However, between work and my lack of a potential partner (and equal lack of desire for finding one), I'm not sure I'll ever have a chance. “I don't think I'll ever know,” I say. Despite my awareness that I'm only being so open because of the wine, I take another swig from the bottle.
“Really?” Janet asks. “Lana, you'd be great with kids.”
“I don't think I'll ever have the opportunity to find out.”
“There's someone out there for you. One day, you'll meet this amazing guy, and he'll make you feel so incredible, and you'll know he's the one. You'll just know it.”
“Like you did with Kirk?”
Her gaze sinks to the floor. “Ah, yes,” she says, as if the very mention of his name disturbs her, as if she doesn't want to be reminded that he's returning tomorrow. “I do think he's the one,” she says. “My one. The one I deserve to be with.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“That hole I feel inside me, the one I tried to shove God into—it's like we both have those kinds of holes, and we fit into each other's just right. That's not the right way of putting it, because we don't make it go away. I think looking at each other's holes makes it easier to deal with our own. Makes the world feel a lot less lonely. That's a terrible thing to say about your husband, isn't it? Kind of a schadenfreude. Looking at his misery and feeling better because I think it's as bad as mine, but it helps on hard nights. It helps seeing how sad and imperfect he is.”
“Janet, don't tell me that. Tell me you're really happy.”
Her face trembles as she forces a smile. “I'm really happy, Lana. Aren't you?”
My face spasms even more than hers as tears spill from my eyes. I didn't feel as if I was close to crying until those words reached into my soul and yanked out all the pain and sorrow I've been hiding from for so long.
It's just from the wine. I should have stopped. But everything hurts so much, and I just want the pain to go away...if only for a moment.
If I feel this way now, I wonder how sad Janet must feel all the time. “I wish I could help you, Janet. I wish there was something I could do. You know that, don't you? But I'm so scared that if I do anything, you'll push me away—leave like you did before.”
“Because that's what I'll do. I don't know what comes over me, but I don't like everyone else telling me what I should do. Mom did enough of that when we were little. Didn't she get onto us enough for everyone for the rest of our lives?” I laugh and nod. “Lana, don't take it personally. I've made my choices, and I have to do everything I can to cope with them.”
Is she really that unhappy with Kirk? She's never seemed unhappy. Or is there more to it? Did something happen to her? Is there something she's harboring that she's never shared with me?
“You know I love you, Janet. Don't you?”
“I don't know that love can fix what's broken inside me.”
Tears continue streaming down my face. “I don't know if it can fix anything. The only thing I think love can do is twist your soul, make you feel rage when you realize those who you love can never feel the same way about you. That the whole world is set up to disappoint you. Not just disappoint you, but torture you with those things that you want so badly...those things that you want so much that it hurts. The world can be so cruel.”
“You're talking about Jarek, aren't you?”
The tears just keep coming. Janet wraps her arms around me.
“I'm so sorry, Lana. I didn't really understand the other night. Oh, God. Those things I said...I feel like such a bitch.”
“You didn't know. I didn't tell anyone.”
“I feel like I need to punch him or something.” I laugh. “I'm sure that'll put a dent in that flawless body of his.”
“At least we have alcohol. Look at us, talking about it, speaking it, and it's easier. I wouldn't talk like this if I didn't have something in me, you know? But sometimes it just flows right out when I drink because it doesn't sting the way it does without it.” However, that's not entirely true, because even with this in me, I know the things I'm not willing to discuss, those thin
gs that are deeply troubling me, the ones I don't dare speak if only because I don't want to be so aware of them myself. I'd love to hide them, lock them away, but there are some truths within me that are just too painful to deal with, especially everything I feel about Jarek right now.
Janet pulls away and then kisses my cheek. “Love you, Lana,” she says.
“I love you, too.”
“We have each other. But then again, I guess what Daddy taught me is that you never know how quickly something you love will leave.”
“He didn't leave,” I insist. “Leaving is a choice. He didn't have one.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset. Don't be upset with me, Lana. Please.”
“I'm not upset with you. I'm just upset with myself right now.”
“Don't be upset with yourself. Be upset with me. That's better than being upset with yourself. If you’re upset with yourself, this is what happens to you. This is what you have to do to make the day easier. Don't do that, Lana.”
“Okay, Janet,” I say to appease her drunken concern. I take another drink. What's the point of trying to be sober now anyway? Maybe Janet has it figured out. Maybe this world is just too difficult for sobriety.
Considering how inebriated we are, it's time for us to leave, so I gently nudge Janet. “I think we should—”
“I don't want to go back down there. I don't like those people. Don't make me see them.”
“We don't need to see anyone. We need to sneak out of here so no one realizes how wasted we are. Come on,” I say. “I'll help you downstairs, and I'll call a car.”
“Can't I come back to your place? Let me just come back with you, and we can sleep in the bed together like we used to—like when we were kids. I miss you so much. It's been so long, and we never spend enough time together.”
“You can come over.”
“And let's watch TV and laugh about the good times, and let's talk more, because we never talk.”
As soon as she's sober, she won't feel this way, but it's nice that she's thinking like that, even if just for these moments. “All right, Janet.”
She smiles broadly. “Then let's get out of here!” she exclaims.
We start down the stairs. I retrieve our jackets from the coat closet when I hear a loud, shrill, “You guys!” I turn to Kelsey, who approaches so quickly my drunken mind has me thinking I need to raise my fists in case she tries to hit me.
“Where have you gals been?” Gals? With Melanie at her side, I can tell her chummy behavior is little more than a performance.
Janet eyes her with contempt, though I'm not sure why. Is it because she's just as disgusted by this performance as I am? “We're leaving!” she exclaims authoritatively.
“No, no,” Kelsey says, “I insist you stay. Just another ten.”
“We really need to head out,” I say. We're too tipsy to talk to anyone.
Kelsey turns back to Melanie. “Would you mind grabbing me a glass of chardonnay?” Her tone says, “Excuse me while I deal with my irresponsible sisters.” Melanie consents and heads off.
Kelsey approaches Janet, I suppose because she knows better than to approach me. “Pull yourself together!” Kelsey says, fire in her tone.
I can't help but get defensive. “Don't you yell at her.”
“Oh, really? Are you going to join her at the Betty Ford clinic?”
“Don't you have a man to be ensnaring?”
“Oh, please, Lana. We all know what this is about, and it has nothing to do with my interest in Jarek. You're just jealous—”
“Jealous? You think I'm jealous?” I am jealous. If someone deserves to end up with him, it's me. It's not that I want to end up with him, but I would deserve it after how I've ached. After how this pain and heartache has consumed me.
“I know you're jealous. You always wanted my things. If you want to fight, then let's say what this is really about.”
“I will. Because there are clearly some things you're forgetting. Like why you're interested in Jarek. Just admit that you never, ever wanted him before.”
“He's a different man than when we were kids.”
“He's a richer man than when we were kids!”
She doesn't appear ruffled by my accusation. “Just because I like a successful, ambitious man doesn't mean—”
“Ambition doesn't have anything to do with it. You and Mom are the same. You want security. That's all life is to you, making sure there's enough for yourself.”
“If you'll remember, after Dad's death, we weren't all that sure there would be enough for anyone.”
“And what does it matter? We have plenty, and look at us! Are we perfect? Is everything fine? How much did you get in that settlement and are you suddenly without worry? You have so much money, why could you possibly need Jarek to have more?”
“Stop making me sound like a gold-digging slut!”
“I liked you more when you at least acknowledged what you did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you were in college. How quick you were to say you wanted to marry rich. How you used to dream about marrying a prince or a politician, because you wanted to go to all the nice parties, and—”
“You're using my childhood dreams against me?”
“You still want the prince because you're shallow and vain.”
“I'm realistic, Lana. We have to be realistic. I'm not like Dad who went and wasted all our money on ridiculous endeavors.”
“Endeavors? You mean charities? He wanted to help people. And we have—”
“The damned trust. That's what we have. Please. A trust we can pull from yearly. Maybe you're just too young to realize what we could have had before.”
“That trust sets us up for the rest of our lives. Tell me, between that and your ex-hubby's money, what could you possibly need Jarek for?”
“There are more important things in the world than money!”
“Prestige? Looking good on a wealthy man's shoulder? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life as a prop?”
“Why am I even fighting with you about this? You're so over-dramatic. I actually like Jarek.”
“You don't know him,” I insist. But maybe I don't either.
“I know him just as well as you do.”
“You never knew him. You never even liked him.”
“Things change, Lana. Haven't you noticed? They aren't the same as when we were teenagers, and they never will be. I'm sorry you can't move on, but the rest of us are trying to.”
I'm not finished with her, but I can tell this conversation isn't heading anywhere, so I don't plan on pursuing it further. “Goodbye, Kelsey. We're heading out.” Janet finishes putting on her jacket and we head out the door.
I stop in the doorway and turn back to Kelsey. “Tell Mom we said bye.”
“And I'm just supposed to clean up after all this?” she asks.
I feel as if I should be reeling with rage after the comment, but there's a quiet to everything, perhaps some sobriety in knowing I'm in the right. “Yes, you can clean up, Kelsey. Perhaps then you'll be a fraction closer to being even with me.”
She stiffens her neck, as if trying to stay strong despite my accurate accusation. “Have a good night,” she says.
Without acknowledging her further, I step through the doorway behind Janet and start down the driveway. “I hate her,” Janet mutters.
Even with the fight, I can't say I hate Kelsey. I could never say that. I'm mad at her, and at times, she's too much for me to deal with, but she'll always be my sister. I'll always care about her.
As we approach the street, I fidget with my phone to call a car with an app. An oh-so-familiar car drives up.
It's Jarek. Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?
“Hey, there,” he says with that charming smile.
“You,” Janet growls.
This is not the time for Janet to blow my cover. She starts for his car. What does she think she'll do? Sucker pun
ch him? I grab her arms and restrain her. He eyes her curiously.
“She's had a little too much,” I explain. “Haven't you, Janet?”
“Lana, just let me do this.”
“Let her do what?” he asks. “What does she want to do?”
“Nothing,” I lie. Except maybe punch you in the face.
“Did you need a ride?”
I can't help but enjoy the innuendo. “No thanks,” I say. “We'll get a car.”
“Come on. I'm heading downtown anyway. Hop in.”
We don't have a good reason not to. Although if Janet plans to make a fuss, I'm not sure that's such a great idea.
“Janet, we're riding with Jarek. Is that okay?”
“What?” she asks, eying me as if I've lost my mind. “Don't you let him—”
“Janet!” I shout, giving her a fierce look that silences her. She presses her lips together, as if to suggest her compliance with my wishes. I help her into the backseat and sit shotgun.
This is the second time Janet's been wasted in Jarek's backseat. He must think she's a drunk. Well, perhaps that's appropriate.
“Too much wine?” he asks, a hint of humor in his tone.
“My head's gonna be hurting tomorrow,” Janet says with a giggle.
Why did I agree to this ride? Janet is so wasted she'll probably reveal what I told her about Jarek. Although I'm hoping my mentally projecting, “Don't say anything! Don't say anything!” will work.
As we reach downtown, I'm fading. I'm not sure I can stay up much longer. The streetlamps, stoplights, and road signs fuse together in my blurred vision. I haven't been this drunk since college.
Jarek parks outside my building. Janet's passed out, so I help Jarek carry her to my place. We escort her into the guest room and lay her across the bed. I stumble into the kitchen, leading Jarek to the door. I lean on the kitchen island, but I guess I miss, because the momentum carries me to the floor, but I stop before I reach it. I feel arms wrapped around me. I turn around, disoriented, confused.
Every Time He Leaves (The Raeven Sisters Book 1) Page 14