Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5)

by Krista Ritchie

  I sense a similar acknowledgement pass through Rose. We stand directly on the same page of the same story in the same book.

  I ask Ben, “Would you like us to help you pack?”

  His mouth opens, surprised.

  “It is what you want, isn’t it?”

  Ben hesitates and then nods.

  Stilted but fiery, Rose tells him, “You can’t forget your toothbrush. I don’t care if you refuse to brush, but at least pack it in your bag. Do I need to make you a list?”

  Ben thinks harder. “…I’d like a list but with pictures.”

  “Then pictures it will be,” Rose says so affectionately that she might as well be hugging our son.

  “Would you like a map?” I question. “What else do you need from us?” We would give you the world if we could.

  “I have a map. I drew one yesterday, and I’m walking, so I don’t need much.”

  Eliot and Tom snicker, not meaning to be cruel, but by laughing they unknowingly disregard his opinions.

  Ben rotates to his brother that teeters on the frame of a chair and the other who slouches beside him. “I’m serious!!” he yells from his core, his neck beet-red. “I’m leaving! I’m leaving and never coming back!!”

  Their faces fall. Understanding in this moment the true meaning and gravity of his words. It does not matter whether he can leave. It matters that he feels like he should.

  “Pippy?” Jane calls out.

  “Ben?” Eliot and Tom say together.

  When Ben crosses his thin arms and turns his back to the table, our children fall into hushed whispers.

  Rose and I guide our son towards a teacart, close to the door. He breathes heavily, frustrated tears welling. We crouch to his height. Rose dabs his cheeks with a clean cloth napkin. I whisper a few soothing sentiments in French while he catches his breath.

  Ben wants to be heard.

  We hear him and listen to him every day. He may believe tonight we’ve shot down his ideas, but I’m not drowning each one. I’m challenging them, and he has every right to stand by his convictions. However outlandish and fantastical they may be. Rose and I would still be here, with him, no matter what he thought in the way that he thought.

  I take his opinions seriously, even if they’re grounded in fantasy. I never call them nonsense. I never label him as absurd. He’s my idealistic son that dreams in undiscovered colors.

  That is fact.

  He sniffs, cheeks dried and breathing more at ease.

  And I tell him, “If your motive is to truly leave, we’ll help you.”

  Rose combats tears as she says, “Our hearts would break every step of the way, but we’d help you.”

  Ben rubs at his watery eyes, dismayed.

  “You have choices,” I say gently. “You will always have choices. We respect yours, and it will pain us to watch you leave. We would let you go because that’s your desire. Is that what you truly want?”

  There’s a fear that he will say yes. I can tell myself that realistically and logically he will never run away, but walking through the illusion will be excruciating. I can’t separate the sentiments, and I don’t try to convince myself that I can.

  I know that I can’t. He’s my son. He’s a piece of this family.

  He’s not expendable.

  And we’ll go as far as packing his bags. We’ll watch him roll his suitcase down the stairs, down the street. We will pretend our son has left us until he recognizes his ideas live in neon castles and clouds.

  If he didn’t reach that point before he reached the neighborhood gate, we wouldn’t let him leave. We’ll play into desires for as long as we can, but we’ll never risk his safety.

  All so he feels heard. So he feels understood. We’d do this out of love.

  Ben wavers, face splotched red.

  “What is it?” I whisper.

  His head hangs. “I don’t fit in here.”

  With hot passion, Rose says, “Yes, you do. Ben Pirrip Cobalt—you fit in at the table. You fit in my heart.” She clutches his hands and tears drip down his cheeks with an entirely new sentiment. “You fit in this family. I promise you my skin and bones, you do.”

  Ben rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

  I awaken at her fervor, choked with real emotion. My throat is closed. I wait a second to process, and then with these feelings trembling beneath, I tell my son, “You’re necessary in our lives.”

  Ben takes a short breath.

  “I love you,” I say without a shadow of a doubt. “We all love you. For your differences, for your similarities, for who you are.”

  “We, too, brother,” Eliot says, drawing our attention to the table. Rose and I straighten to a stance, and Ben slips around our legs to see what we see.

  All of our children rise. Not only to their feet. They rise to the table, pushing dishes aside, goblets tipping over, but their eyes are only on Ben. Staring down at him, as though he is the only one who matters. He matters above a dish. Above a chair. Above a glass, above themselves.

  Charlie is the one who extends his hand. “We, too, love you, Ben.”

  Rose is a fortress of love and loyalty, her yellow-green eyes glassed at the sight of our future that’s no longer future.

  It is present moment.

  And we are living inside of it.

  I clasp her hand. My heart—a heart that cared for logic and practicalities and selfish pursuits—that heart is on fire.

  Ben takes his brother’s hand, and Charlie helps him stand on the table. Every child meets our eyes, smiling as though they’ve obtained knowledge and secrets of the world.

  Each individually unique.

  Each with a mind of their own.

  Each proud and in love with who they are.

  I expected no less.

  Jane looks between Rose and me, and very strongly, she says, “Ensemble.”

  “Ensemble,” our children then exclaim at once.

  My lips pull upward into a blinding grin. Rose is moved, fingers to her own lips, and her fiery yellow-green eyes meet my calm deep blue. I skim the base of her neck with my hand.

  We draw our gazes to our children. Fire and water upon them. We tell all seven the one word that has breathed inside of us from the moment we met.

  We say, “Ensemble.”

  Together.

  < so long >

  April 2028

  Zoo

  Utah

  DAISY MEADOWS

  For many, many years, we’ve strayed from any and all zoos. The one time we did visit, way before we had Sulli, the experience ended with crowds pressed up against us. Snapping photos, yelling our names. We never considered putting our girls through that mayhem.

  Not even as Winona begged for the past year. “Let’s see all the elephants and the turtles and the zebras and the unicorns!”

  “Fucking unicorns,” Ryke muttered, shadow of a smile peeking.

  I explained that unicorns live in majestic meadows off in majestic lands, not zoos.

  “Let’s take a boat there!” Winona exclaimed.

  We have not taken a boat to a majestic land with majestic meadows, but we finally planned a trip with a zoo pit stop. Only because this particular zoo let us slip inside on a closed for employees only day. No crowds. Not many people. Just some zoo attendants, animals, and us.

  “Let me know if you want anything, I’ll open the register,” Bethany, our really nice zoo guide tells us. She first leads us into the gift store, saving the exhibits for later.

  As our kids enter ahead of us, I come up behind Ryke, hugging him around the waist. I playfully try to ground his stride, but he easily walks forward, just with me in tow. I catch him eyeing my flower crown, and I playfully bite his arm.

  Then our energetic four-year-old giraffe races into the depths of the store. Hopping up and down like this is heaven on earth. She lands at the towering wall of stuffed animals. Winona Briar Meadows is a giraffe, not just in spirit but in costume. I helped her put on an orange an
d white giraffe onesie this morning, hood concealing her messy brown hair.

  Our ten-year-old daughter darts in the opposite direction, towards a bucket of silver pendants and rope jewelry.

  I gasp. “Our brood has separated. Where will we go? What will we do?”

  Ryke ruffles my blonde hair, my flower crown at a tilt. Then he faces me while I rock on the heels of my feet, my palms on his firm chest, lean muscle beneath his gray shirt. I’d steal his green baseball hat off his head, but flower crowns it is today.

  Sulli wears an identical one, and she asked if I would wear mine with her.

  My wolf stares down at me, his brown eyes flitting to my yellow shirt every few minutes. It says here comes the sun.

  Ryke tells me, “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

  I smile tenfold and place my hands on his unshaven jaw, rough beneath my palms. I just stay here, liking how I’m in direct line with someone mighty and strong, daring and dangerous, and most of all—kind and caring.

  Is there anyone in this world who cares more about me than this man? Has there ever been someone out there who loves me so entirely other than him?

  I don’t think there is. I don’t think there could be.

  Ryke doesn’t wait any longer.

  He kisses me, holding the back of my head, deepening our natural embrace. My smile grows beneath his lips.

  “Daddy! I need help!”

  “Mom, can you come here?”

  We break apart, and he kisses my cheek before we physically separate.

  “Looks like I’m going this way and you’re going that way.” I walk backwards towards the jewelry where Sulli digs into a clear bucket.

  “Don’t get into too much fucking trouble, sweetheart.” He scans me once before setting his gaze on Winona, who jumps repeatedly. Trying to reach the highest shelf of dolphin, sea turtle, and penguin stuffed animals.

  We never really tire from Winona’s bounciness, her crazed energy in good company with the rest of ours. I slip next to Sulli and hip-bump her.

  She hip-bumps back and shows me the rope necklaces she picked out. “Can I get these?”

  Each has one silver animal pendant: bird, dolphin, wolf, and otter. I smile at her choices, knowing which one represents us. I’m the bird. She’s the dolphin. Ryke is the wolf. Winona is the otter. “Definitely.”

  “I want to keep the wolf, then give you the dolphin, Dad the otter, and Nona the bird.”

  Sulli always thinks about us, and I was never really anyone’s number one growing up. I was the number two or number three sister. Sometimes even number four. Ryke and I are number ones to our girls, and it’s an insane feeling.

  I just want to make sure that she always thinks about herself too. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

  Sulli adjusts my off-kilter flower crown with a smile and says, “I really, really want to, Mom.”

  “Then I’m totally wearing mine out.” I wag my brows like this is an A+ daring act, even though it’s so normal.

  “Higher!” Winona’s laughter lights her voice. The little giraffe sits atop Ryke’s shoulders, already in line with the tallest shelf.

  “You want to hit your head on the fucking ceiling?”

  “Yeah!”

  Ryke has his hand on her ankle. “Not fucking happening, sweetie.”

  “Watcha looking at, squirt?” Sulli skips over to her little sister.

  “The sea turtles!”

  Sulli glances over her shoulder at me, waiting for me to catch up, but my phone rings in my pocket with a familiar tone. I wave my cell at my daughter, and she nods, darting straight to Ryke and Winona.

  I rest my arm on the checkout counter, our zoo guide Bethany texting by the rack of key chains, but I don’t worry whether she’s in earshot.

  Phone to my ear. “Hey there.”

  “Okay, hey, so I’m at the store,” Willow whispers like she is sneaking down aisles unseen. “And wait, we’re still on for breakfast when you get back?”

  “Totally, it’s been too long.” I haven’t seen my best friend in an entire week, which seems short, but when she’s in Philly, we usually drop by and see one another every other day. The biggest sadness of the summer: when Willow leaves for London with Garrison and Vada, their daughter who’ll turn four soon. It’s the longest span of time they’re not around any of us.

  “Agreed…” Willow trails off, making a thinking noise like uhhh. “I forgot why I called…hold on a sec.”

  I smile and push dolphin magnets around a display. “I’m sending you all the remembrance vibes.”

  “Got it.”

  I mock gasp. “Lily was right. I do have powers.”

  Willow laughs. “If it were up to Lily, we all would.”

  I smile wider at that truth. Absentmindedly, I thumb a silver ring on my finger, a square etched in the center. I haven’t taken it off since the day Willow gave me hers, and she’s never removed her matching one.

  Quietly, Willow asks, “Winona hates banana muffins or blueberry pancakes? Vada said the blueberries, but Garrison is pretty sure it’s the banana muffins.”

  Vada and Winona are best friends, along with Audrey and Kinney, so if one girl has a play date, chances are all four will be there.

  “She hates blueberries,” I say. “Sulli doesn’t like banana muffins, but only when people put nuts in them.” Sullivan is still the pickiest eater around, but she makes do.

  “…awesome, okay, I’m about to make my way to the pancake aisle. No blueberries. Tell Ryke I said hi. See you when you get back.”

  When we hang up, I remember all my theories about friendships. Somehow, someway—I managed to keep this special one close, despite distance and years of time.

  This one survived.

  * * *

  “Look, Winona.” I point towards the giraffe habitat as we approach the wooden fence. With each step, I try to tie the rope necklace around Ryke’s wrist. It’s too small to fit anywhere else for him, mine is more like a choker.

  Winona sprints elatedly to the fence, her hood falling backwards. Sulli jogs after her sister.

  Ryke uses his teeth to loosen the knot on the bracelet, finally secure and not too tight. He has the bag of stuffed animals crammed in his backpack. Simon the sea turtle for Winona and then she picked out three others for her best friends and a dolphin for Sulli.

  I’ve never been to the zoo without crowds. Without so much congestion and people. The pavement is barren of bodies, the exhibits more visible from farther away. It’s not this sight that swells inside of me.

  It’s the sound.

  Birds chirping, lions roaring. Hooves and paws pounding the earth. The human noises we make never overpower the song of nature, and I could shut my eyes and just listen all day.

  I catch Ryke staring down at me for an extended moment. “What?”

  “You look really fucking happy.” His eyes nearly glass.

  “I really am.” I can say it with certainty. With utmost ease. I’m almost so happy I could scream. I playfully bite his arm, and he kisses the top of my head.

  When we reach Winona and Sulli at the fence, our teeny tiny giraffe tries to climb up and over the fence and into the habitat.

  Ryke pries her off and sets her on her feet. “That’s fucking dangerous.”

  Winona gapes. “But…but how do we see the animals?”

  Sulli makes a wincing noise. “This is about to go pretty bad,” she whispers to me before hopping up on the bench. She sits on top and absorbs the peaceful surroundings—while Winona swings her head from side to side like we’ve brought her to the wrong place.

  I wondered if she understood what a zoo was, but I just didn’t think it needed an explanation other than it’s where you see all the animals.

  Ryke glances over his shoulder at me. I know that look. It’s the one that says, I can’t think of the right fucking words. I need you, Dais.

  I’ve never been needed, not before Ryke either. I’ve never been wanted or truly lo
ved in the way that I know I deserve to be loved.

  I’m quick.

  Next to Ryke, I bend down to Winona’s height. “You see the animals right there.” I point through the slats of the wooden fence. Two giraffes amble across dry bush and sandy dirt.

  Winona clutches the rungs and sticks her head through. Metal fence also separates wildlife from us, and every ounce of excitement she had starts plummeting like an anchor sinking in an ocean.

  I look up at Ryke as he runs his hand through his thick hair, putting his baseball cap back on. He outstretches an arm. “We should’ve taken her to a fucking petting zoo.”

  “I don’t know…” I’m not sure it’s just about Winona wanting to touch the animals.

  Ryke squats beside me, his hand hovering on Winona’s back in case she decides to fit her body through the fence. She’s completely silent, not facing us.

  With Ryke really close, I whisper, “She never mentioned touching animals, just seeing them.”

  “Maybe she was fucking confused.”

  It’s possible. I rest my cheek on his arm while we wait for her to turn around. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “We made a baby giraffe.”

  The start of his smile slowly dies as Winona finally spins. Tears drip down her soft cheeks and slide along her delicate nose.

  My lungs bind. Whenever one of our girls cries, Ryke’s muscles tense, his brows scrunch, and he edges an inch closer as though to say I’m fucking here for you.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” I wipe her tears with the corner of my shirt.

  “How do the giraffes leave?” Winona asks tearfully. I watch Ryke watch me for a moment, both of us understanding why she’s upset. The fences. The exhibits. Not because they keep her out, but because they keep the animals in.

  Ryke shakes his head at our daughter. “They don’t want to fucking leave.”

  “But what if they do? What if they want to roam the whole wide world but they’re stuck?”

  “What if they’re all happy and they never want to leave?” I ask Winona.

  “But they’re not free!” she sobs, voice cracking.

  I instantly pull Winona to my chest, and she wraps her arms around me. I lift her up and stand at the same moment as Ryke. I whisper in Winona’s ear, “There are millions of animals all over this great big world, and the ones in the zoo are loved by people. These people even rescue them, nurture them, and protect them. This may be their home for now or for later, but they’re safe here.”