Clean Breaks

by Ruby Lang

  Sarah knew she sounded like a plaintive child herself. But she couldn’t help it. He’d smashed her crockery and ruined the fruit, and all because he was a spiteful jerk.

  Then Winston stood up and said, “Well, you should’ve caught it.”

  That was it.

  She just couldn’t hold back anymore. She went at him with a yell and punched her brother right in his egg and salmon-filled face.

  Winston looked shocked. And also remarkably not bloodied. Maybe he was made of rocks, which proved once and for all that she wasn’t related to him. Or maybe he’d eaten rocks, because yikes! his face had hurt her fist.

  There was a silence. Then Winston yowled and grabbed his glass of water and dashed it in her face with a flourish worthy of a soap star.

  She gasped—or was that Kirsten? No time to check if there were casualties. She grabbed the seaweed and dumped the bowl on her brother’s head and threw her own water glass at him so that dark strips wallpapered his shirt.

  Meanwhile, Winston was frantically lobbing spoonfuls of oatmeal at her, grabbing whatever plates were in reach—snatching the one from his girlfriend’s unwilling hands without a word of thanks—and flinging handfuls of pepitas in Sarah’s face to distract her.

  That meant war. She lobbed peanuts at him as she chased him awkwardly around the kitchen table.

  Kirsten was shrieking about something—her breakfast maybe? Or the broken bowl still in pieces on the ground? Or maybe the glob of oatmeal in hair she’d painstakingly styled in order to meet the family?

  Dimly, Sarah was aware that Jake had returned from the kitchen again and was also yelling. She tried to slow down and calm down, because she had things to say to him. The situation was out of hand, and she wanted to stop it right there. But as she started toward him, she stepped in a mushy puddle of porridge and started to flail. She grabbed at the table, but that proved a mistake, because although she managed to stay upright, the new orange tablecloth proved slippery. Everything—flowers, empty and full dishes, plates, coffee—everything came down in a magnificent crash and tinkle on the floor around her.

  A plate spun in the corner and fell over, spun and stopped.

  Another silence.

  Her parents chose that moment to appear in the doorway. Mrs. Soon was wearing hot pink yoga pants and a slim-fitting yellow top, and Sarah’s eyes hurt a little bit, but whether it was from the colors or from seeing her mom in more formfitting clothing, Sarah didn’t know. She’d just never get used to it. Her dad was in his usual uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, and he was streaked with dirt.

  Then again, it probably wasn’t Sarah’s place to judge based on appearances right now. The Soons looked first at the floor, then up at their food-smeared thirty-something progeny, then at Kirsten, whose shoulders were shaking silently, whether from laughter or because she was sobbing, it was hard to tell. Then they moved their eyes to Jake—the only one of them who was still clean.

  Finally, Mrs. Soon stirred. She went to Kirsten and led her gently out of the room, murmuring something about helping her get the porridge out of her hair. Mr. Soon shook his head. “Winston. Sarah. I think it’s time you clean up your own messes.”

  And he turned on his heel and went back out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There was oatmeal on the ceiling and on the light fixture.

  Jake and Sarah worked silently, sweeping up the broken glass and food, scrubbing the walls and mopping the floors.

  Winston had helped a little at first, too, but then Mrs. Soon had come in and told her son that Kirsten had left. She’d called a cab and departed for the hotel or the airport—Mrs. Soon couldn’t say. Winston had yelled at his mother, maybe for the first time ever, and run out the door. Fai Soon hadn’t stopped him.

  Jake swiped the table angrily.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, not acknowledging her apology.

  She grimaced. “I need some ice for my hand.”

  He rummaged around the freezer and found a stack of medical ice packs.

  They sat on the floor side by side. “You should have said something earlier,” he told her. “I’d have cleaned up.”

  “Like you clean up everything.”

  She glanced around the room, and he followed her gaze. It was mostly restored to order. A lone bottle of sweetener stood on the table. “Figures that the only thing we didn’t break was that stupid controversial stevia that no one is going to use.”

  Sarah started to laugh, and even though the sadness of that sound pinched his sore heart, he laughed with her. “You could always upend it on Winston when he comes back. Sort of like a finishing glaze.”

  “Ooh, I can’t believe I punched him in the face,” she said burying her head in her hands. “Well, it was sort of a punch. I guess I can add socking Winston to the list of things I’ve never done and always wanted to do, and then cross it off.”

  “I find it hard to believe you’ve never hit Winston.”

  “As a kid, sure, but never in the face. Have you ever punched him?”

  “I have. But I’m still sort of jealous that you got to do it, because I’ve really felt like taking a swing lately.”

  “If it’s any consolation, it was a weak effort.”

  “Punching is probably the only thing Sarah Soon doesn’t do well.”

  “Jake, in case you haven’t seen this room, or, like, my life, there are a lot of things I don’t do well. I don’t even understand how you want to be a part of all of this mess. I’m not just talking about breakfast. I mean all of this family. You’re going to feel like you have to clean up every time. Kirsten did not want to be around us, and I totally understand that. My family is difficult. And I’m treating myself like I had a brush with death.”

  “You did.”

  “Maybe. But apologizing is also something I don’t do well. Jake—

  “Don’t. Don’t give me that pitying look.”

  “It’s not pity.”

  But before she could say more, the door slammed, Winston strode through into the dining room, and she turned away. Again.

  That was the problem.

  Winston was fuming. And his eye was beginning to bruise. Jake would have congratulated Sarah for hitting him harder than she thought, but then Winston pointed at his sister. “Kirsten’s gone, and this is your fault.”

  Jake got up from the floor. He was getting tired of being interrupted by the Soons.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked before Jake could say anything.

  “She said she was humiliated by everything that happened and that she didn’t want to be around someone as immature as I am.”

  “I’m sorry, Winston.”

  Jake interrupted. “You don’t need to say you’re sorry, Sarah. This isn’t your fault. This is his damn fault.”

  “Or it’s mine,” said Mrs. Soon, behind Winston.

  Kau Soon came in and stood behind his wife.

  “I am sorry for the way we . . . intruded on you yesterday,” Sarah’s mother said to Winston. “And then the way we reacted was not perhaps ideal. I said the same to Kirsten, but I don’t think she was in the mood to hear it.”

  “Oh, so Winston gets an apology.”

  “Hey, whose life is ruined here exactly? You get to be the big doctor that Mom and Dad brag about, and you have a boyfriend who used to be my best friend.”

  Jake said, “I’m not a Matchbox car, Winston. Sarah didn’t exactly steal me and put me in her toy box.”

  “Enough,” thundered Mr. Soon.

  Even he looked kind of impressed by how loud he managed to be. But he made a quick recovery. “Obviously, we have mismanaged some things.”

  “That’s a way of putting it. You missed your calling as a corporate lawyer, Pa.”

  “Don’t heckle Dad, Sarah.”

  “Why don’t you go chase your girlfriend for another couple of miles, Winston?”

  “You—you have no right to talk to me after wha
t you did. You walloped me in the face. I should press charges! I should sue. Then you humiliated me by running after me around the room and throwing food at me. Who does that?”

  “You’ve been nothing but a surly asshole to me since you arrived—actually, since birth. And the way you treat your girlfriend—not even just doing basic things like getting her some coffee when she had to wake up in a strange house or, I don’t know, introducing her to Mom and Dad instead of just sneaking her into your hotel room. And why the hell didn’t you just answer a damn text and save yourself the trouble, you amateur? And how about standing up to Mom and Dad for her when they were weird to her last night? Let’s just say maybe your behavior had something to do with the fact that she dumped you.”

  Winston gasped in outrage. He turned to his mom.

  Things seemed to be getting out of control again.

  “Maybe we should all sit down instead of standing around yelling at each other,” Jake suggested wearily.

  “Since when does he get to stay?”

  “Since he’s the only one who isn’t acting like a child,” Mrs. Soon muttered.

  But she sat. And everyone else followed suit.

  “I guess we’re having it out, then,” Sarah said, squaring her shoulders.

  She looked ready for a fight, not for reconciliation. But then, even sitting, none of them seemed very ready to move in the direction of hugs and jokes. Despite Sarah’s tough stance, she also looked on the verge of tears.

  Jake wanted to take her hand. But he didn’t. He was still absorbing what she had said about him so long ago. He reminded himself that they had both been different people then. Still, the words had surprised him, and he found he was wary. The sooner he got the family to talk, the sooner he’d have a chance to hash it out with Sarah. But even he was losing his patience.

  Mr. Soon, seemingly unaware of the tensions that were already heavy in the air, cleared his throat. “So, your mother and I have been concerned for a while about our relationships with you. Things seem strained and . . . perhaps you have not always been forthright when it comes to things like”—he motioned at Jake—“boyfriends and girlfriends.”

  “Or your health,” Sarah’s mom added.

  “We’re asking for understanding. And maybe that you come see us more often. And tell us about your life. I don’t really want things to continue down this path. I realize that will take some work on our part, but, uh, the one thing that you can say about us is that we’ve never been afraid of work.”

  Sarah was shaking her head. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do that.

  Despite all that had happened between them, Jake’s heart squeezed. Sarah was looking torn. But strong. She didn’t want to give up that righteous anger that had kept her focused and together for such a long time. Maybe her parents’ rejection of her in those last awful months of high school had been terrible, but she’d made herself what she was, and she was amazing now.

  Maybe he could do the same with all that Winston had said this morning. The hurt lingered. It stirred up old feelings that he thought he’d forgotten. But people could change—they had to. It was something he had to believe because of his profession—that the right interventions at the right moments could alter lives. But all of those adjustments and modifications were work. And at the same time, he had to be wary of people who claimed too readily that they had turned over a new leaf—those abusive boyfriends and parents, people who promised too much too easily.

  Well, none of the Soons had been easy. He watched Sarah’s face—so young and raw in its anger. Her change was hard earned. Was she still that scornful golden girl? No, not entirely. Did a part of her still see him as an awkward, dorky do-gooder who had abandoned her? Well, a part of him was still that person. But what he had to get over was his own teenage feeling that someone like her would be interested in someone like him. It wasn’t that he had to accept Sarah had changed—it was that he had to have faith that he was now different, too. He was better than that stupid kid he had been. And after all, wasn’t the fact that she wanted him here with her proof that she believed in the person he had become?

  “So that’s it, huh?” Sarah continued. “We’re another one of your projects. Made a mess with the kids, try to salvage it for parts before it goes to waste.”

  “Sarah.”

  “You came here to my house. You summoned Winston for some sort of family reconciliation vacation. And you expect us all to hug and make up? Mom, Dad, I thought you guys were realists. Because one chat like this isn’t going to make me trust you.”

  “Oh, get over it,” Winston interjected. “All the bad crap went down, like, fifteen years ago, and you’re still holding it over all our heads.”

  “I’m still holding onto it? Winston? You’re the one who just hurt your best friend over the incredibly stupid remarks that I made even longer ago.”

  “Don’t shift the blame to me.”

  “I’m not. I was terrible to you and to Jake, and I’m sorry. But telling me to get over it when you clearly, clearly are never going to let it go? Maybe I don’t want to get over it. Maybe I should never get over it, because I have made something of myself because of it. I should really thank you all for showing me that I don’t need you. I am fine on my own. I don’t need anyone.”

  She reached out to grasp Jake’s hand as she said it. It was a half apology buried in defiance. He didn’t know how to feel about it. And the rest of it was true; Sarah didn’t need anyone—not her family, and maybe not him. He’d even said it—several times—but this was the first time that it hit him quite this way. He protected people—had built an entire career around it. He’d broken up his marriage because he was no longer what his wife needed—and she wasn’t what he needed. But here was Sarah, self sufficient and strong. She didn’t depend on him to swoop in and fix things. It was terrifying how much he needed her. She could be strong, and she could comfort him. But what was he going to be to her?

  He would not accept being an afterthought.

  She was still talking though. “In fact, I can’t see why this is happening right now. I don’t see why you’re here to fix your loose ends unless someone’s dying.”

  She stopped in the silence. Even Winston looked shocked. “Wait, is one of you ill? Are you dying?”

  Fai said, “Well, you almost did, Sarah. You almost did, and you didn’t tell us.”

  Another pause. Then Sarah got up. “You don’t get to use me.”

  “We’re not—”

  Jake got up. Sarah said, “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry. I can’t deal with this now.”

  And she ran.

  • • •

  Her family felt guilty. Well, good. They should.

  They had no right. Her illness was hers. Her recovery was hers. And her relationships and her life were hers, and their sudden show of feeling was too confusing.

  The only person who hadn’t muddled her was Jake. She’d said she didn’t need anyone, but he had held her hand. He’d accepted her grasp even though she had been hateful to him so long ago.

  Sarah wanted to go back for him, but she had jumped on her rarely used bike (she really needed to practice more if she wanted to do the Big Eastside Trail Loop). Here she was without a helmet! Without sunscreen! She could be reckless and stupid, and she was pedaling away as fast as she could, as if she had no power to interrupt her momentum.

  She reached the park and got off to walk the bike. And she just folded, collapsing onto the grass. She was staring at the sun—another thing that she shouldn’t do. Today was just full of things to cross off the list, wasn’t it?

  A dog snuffled up to her and her licked her face.

  “Oh wow, I’m so sorry. He’s not usually that forward,” a voice said.

  The man attached to the voice didn’t look that sorry, though, as Sarah sat up. He was objectively handsome, and he knew it. Not as nearly as good as Jake, though, who was all the more attractive because he wasn’t drenched in the stench of presumption.


  The stranger stretched, a preening gesture, and motioned beside her. “Mind if I sit down?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he collapsed into the grass next to her and edged a little too close.

  Maybe at some distant point in the past, she would have been flattered by his attention. But she’d just had an emotional shouting match with her family. She was clearly upset and attempting to think, and all this man was doing was buzzing around, trying to make her focus on him instead of her own thoughts.

  Jake had not done that. He could have caused a scene. He could have yelled at her. She thought of the million things and ways he could have made himself the center of attention. But he’d waited for her.

  And she had run out on him.

  She’d thought she had to resolve things with her parents in order to be happy in love. It had always been in the back of her mind. After she’d confronted them with how terrible they’d been and they said they were sorry, after they’d changed themselves into completely different people, then she could try to have a good relationship with someone. That’s what she’d been telling herself.

  But she’d already found the person she wanted, and she shouldn’t—couldn’t—make him wait any more.

  She wanted Jake right now. She needed to hear him. She loved his reasonable tone, his crinkly-eyed smile. She missed him when he wasn’t around. No, she did not require his presence in order to make every decision—and no, she did not need him in order to be able to survive and stand on her own two feet. But she needed more than that; her happiness was worth a lot more than that. Her parents wanted to try to be in her life again. Her brother—maybe not so much—but maybe it didn’t matter. She deserved someone who would care for her the way Jake did—the way he had proven again and again—and she deserved to love him back. He knew her at her very worst—crusted in porridge, screaming at her family—and he loved her. He had not backed down or run away—not the way she had just now.

  Things didn’t have to be perfect for her to move forward with her life.

  If nothing else came of this terrible morning, it was this realization. And now she’d figured out this one thing. She loved him and she always would.