So Over It

by Stephanie Morrill

  And now, as we sat through Papa’s memorial service in our matching muumuus and leis, my mind replayed the words over and over. You’ve never been a disappointment, never been a disappointment. I wished Papa had thought to tell my mom the same thing before it was too late.

  Of course, maybe because he didn’t, my mom knew she should.

  For five days, Mom sat with Grammy as she cried. She held Grammy’s hands, wrinkled and thin-skinned like tissue paper used over and over, and let her sob about what a wonderful man Kelani had been. About how much fun they’d always had together. About how her girlfriends were so jealous when she’d snagged him. She said more nice things about him in five minutes than I’d heard her say in our two weeks back in June.

  When I rolled my suitcase out to the living room, Grammy burst into a fresh batch of tears. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me already.”

  “Oh, Mom.” My mom sank onto the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to Kansas City with us? We can call and get you a ticket right now. It’s no problem.”

  Grammy wiped her eyes. “I don’t like the cold.”

  “It’s July, Mom.”

  “But it’ll get cold.”

  “Not until October.”

  “I couldn’t leave your father. Not yet.” She wiped her eyes again. “And Sylvie and the kids will be here this evening. They’re staying a full week.”

  My aunt Sylvie and her family had been in the middle of a European vacation when the call came about Papa. No one told me if they’d been unwilling to leave, or if it just hadn’t been practical.

  Mom ignored the snub about the length of our stay. “Well, if after they leave you don’t want to be alone, you’d be welcome at our house.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Grammy smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt. “There’s lots to do. Cleaning and putting things in order. You know.”

  “But none of it needs doing right away,” Mom said, something she’d repeated several times during our stay. “Why not go to the mainland with us, and then come back when it’s less painful?”

  Grammy set her jaw. “It’ll always be painful. I spent fifty-four years of my life with your father.”

  “That’s not how I meant it, Mom. I just meant when the pain isn’t as fresh. When you can think clearer.”

  “I can think just fine,” Grammy snapped. Then she rubbed her eyes, which drooped from sleepless nights. “I’m sorry, Teri. I’m just on edge right now.”

  “It’s fine.” Mom reached for Grammy’s hand. “I want to do whatever I can to make this easier for you.”

  Grammy gazed at my mom, her eyes seeming old and wise. “Sorry, baby girl. This is something I have to go through by myself. But the Lord will see me through. He always does.”

  My mom nodded and squeezed Grammy’s hand. She looked at me. “It’s time?”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t worry about me.” Grammy stood. “I’ll barely be alone four hours.”

  I kissed her round cheek. “I love you, Grammy.”

  She drew me near. “And I love you, my little Skylark.” She pulled my mom close as well. “And you too.”

  In the car, as we drove down the poorly paved road, Mom released a shaky sigh. “I wish Sylvie and them hadn’t missed their connection. I feel horrible about leaving her alone.”

  “You think Grammy will change her mind? About coming to Kansas City, I mean?”

  Mom shook her head. “I doubt it. She’ll want to deal with her grief all on her own.” She sighed again. “It’s the Ka’aihue way.”

  Hours later, I awoke in my bedroom to the sight of Abbie’s beaming face.

  “Hi,” I said in a hoarse voice.

  “I thought you’d never wake up.”

  I pressed a hand to my head and blinked a couple times in the brilliant sunlight my curtains couldn’t seem to keep out. I felt fuzzy and disconnected, same as I had the last time we’d taken the red-eye out of Hawaii.

  Abbie plopped onto my bed. “I’ve got something exciting to tell you. Owen slept through the night.”

  “Great,” I said through a yawn.

  She gave me a look. “Nice enthusiasm.”

  “Sorry, I’m just . . .” I yawned again. “Sleepy.”

  Abbie laughed. “Believe me, I know the feeling.” She fussed with the ragged hem of her shorts. “So I’ve got something else to tell you too. You know Dr. Prentice?”

  “Mom and Dad’s counselor?”

  “Yeah. Well, she’s sorta my counselor now too.”

  I blinked a couple times, waiting for an intelligent response to come to mind. “I don’t understand.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’d been talking to Amy a lot.” She hesitated. “Ross.”

  “I know who Amy is.”

  “Okay, you were just giving me a blank look.”

  “Hello? I just woke up after four hours of sleep.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Anyway, I’ve been talking to Amy, just about how I’ve been feeling isolated and overwhelmed and depressed and a whole myriad of horrible adjectives. And then I started having these thoughts. About how maybe I made the wrong decision about keeping Owen, but then I’d be with him and I’d think, how could I have ever thought about giving him up? I must be a horrible mother.”

  I floundered for her hand and found it on her lap. “You’re a great mother.”

  Abbie smiled. “Amy said I should talk to Mom and Dad about seeing a counselor. I’d thought about it before, but I guess I didn’t want to admit I was having such a rough time. Amy said transitioning to motherhood even in the best circumstances is hard and that I shouldn’t be embarrassed. But I still was. I talked to Dad about it while you guys were gone, and he took me to Dr. Prentice. I’ve only gone once, but I just feel so much . . . freer.”

  What kind of big sister was I? “I’m so sorry I had no idea how you were feeling.”

  She shook her head, silencing me. “I didn’t want you knowing. You do everything so perfectly—”

  I snorted.

  “—that I didn’t want to tell you. But I should have.”

  I squeezed her hand. “You’ve got to stop punishing yourself for what happened. And I can say that to you only because I’ve just recently worked through that myself. Just because you’ve got Owen doesn’t mean you have to hide out at the house all the time.”

  Abbie bit her lower lip. “Yesterday I was taking Owen for a walk and went by Jenna’s house. It was her birthday, and I just knew . . .” Her eyelashes fluttered as she battled tears. “Sure enough. The street was full of cars. She was my best friend.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Abbie lay on the bed and nestled into my pillow. “I understand that it’s weird. I mean, I get why she’s not talking to me anymore and why Chris broke up with me. I just hope if I were in their situation, I’d be a little more understanding.”

  “Well, I think it’s great that you’re in counseling. And it’s good for Owen too.”

  Abbie’s eyes looked heavy despite her full night of sleep. “Thanks for understanding. For not thinking I’m just being dramatic.”

  “You? Never.”

  She smiled at me. “And thanks for putting up with me these last couple months. I know I’ve been a little . . . fussy.”

  I grinned. “I don’t know if ‘fussy’ is the best word. But you’re welcome.”

  Her eyes closed. “Your bed is comfy.” She’d barely gotten out the words when her breathing deepened and her face went slack.

  I closed my eyes too, grateful to return to sleep. And grateful for my sister, and how strong she was, whether she knew it or not.

  28

  “Wow,” Connor said as I walked across Loose Park. “You look . . . Wow.”

  I grinned. “Not too 1950s?”

  “No, just perfect.” He took my hand and spun me around once. “I can’t believe you made this. It looks like something you could’ve bought. Only better.”

  I glanced at the crowd gathered in th
e rose garden. The park looked beautiful, full of white wooden chairs draped with violet tulle. “Where’s your family?”

  Connor tugged me closer, where my view wasn’t obstructed, and pointed. They’d already been seated and chatted with another family I didn’t recognize.

  Connor glanced behind me. “Abbie couldn’t make it?”

  I shook my head. “Owen woke up from his last nap with a fever and a nasty cough. She’s at some after-hours pediatrician place now.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “My mom thinks it’s just some bug he picked up at playgroup or something, but Abbie insisted on taking him. Are Jodi or Eli here yet?” The rose garden, while big, didn’t allow for much parking. Heather and Brent had been forced to pare down the invite list, but still our entire youth group had been invited.

  “Not yet.” Connor eyed me carefully. “You want to save them seats?”

  “Sure.”

  “Really?”

  I shrugged. “I think Jodi and I are on our way to being friends again.”

  An usher approached me. “Bride or groom’s side, miss?”

  “I’ve got this one.” Connor offered me his arm. “She’s all mine.”

  “There was a wreck on Ward Parkway,” Jodi muttered as she slid into the seat beside me. Eli took the empty spot on the other side of Connor. “They’ve got it down to one lane and we were all just crawling.” She looked forward at Heather and Brent, who stood with joined hands and shining faces. “What’d I miss?”

  “Not much,” I said. “Heather walked down the aisle. Pastor Greg’s said lots of stuff about commitment and love.” “The flower girl picked her nose,” Connor added.

  Jodi made a face. “That’s so gross.” She assessed Heather. “Killer dress, by the way. You two did a great job.”

  I smiled. “It was all Heather. I just picked the color.”

  Jodi snickered as if I’d joked. It pleased me to think that my zeal for fashion, for the appropriate dress for Heather’s big day, had impacted her life, had brought about change. Connor had been right to say I didn’t need to define myself by what I did for a living, but that didn’t mean God couldn’t use my talent at all.

  “Hey.” Jodi nudged me, her tone different now. “Isn’t that . . . ?”

  I followed her gaze across the aisle, to the groom’s side, where I recognized no one. “Who?”

  “Lean this way.” Jodi pushed me forward a little bit, and that’s when I saw him—Aaron.

  “Oh my gosh.” My right hand gripped hers and my left hand Connor’s.

  “Ouch. What’s going on?” Connor asked. Both he and Eli gave me curious looks.

  “Aaron’s here,” Jodi said.

  Connor squeezed my hand. “You want to leave?”

  “No. This is good,” I said, to remind myself. “Maybe now we can settle this thing.”

  “Maybe he’s not coming,” I said.

  The four of us had been sitting at our table at the reception watching the door for Aaron’s arrival. So far nothing. “I’m sure he’s coming. The reception is the only good part of a wedding,” Connor said.

  Jodi gave him a look. “Very romantic.”

  Eli wrung a cocktail napkin. “I don’t think you should talk to him. Let Connor and me handle it.”

  “No,” I said flatly. “I need to do this. I’m just going to ask him about that night. About his side of the story.”

  Eli snorted. “Like he’ll tell the truth.”

  “Worst case, I won’t know any more than I know now.” I gulped, thinking of those dark, blank spaces between memories of Jodi’s party. “And maybe that’s okay.”

  But when something altered the course of your life as severely as that night had mine, you wanted every detail. You wanted to be able to hold it, turn it over, and inspect it. I had the fruit from that night—this new girl I’d become, Connor, new relationships with my family. That could be enough for me, but I wanted to know.

  “There he is,” the three of them said in unison.

  Aaron loosened his tie and glanced around. Looking for Lane? I bet it hadn’t crossed his mind that I’d be there. I doubted I ever crossed his mind at all. He touched the arm of the middle-aged woman he’d entered with—his mom?—and motioned to the bar. Shocking.

  I pushed back my chair. “Be right back.”

  “Be careful,” Connor said as Eli said, “Don’t leave our sight.”

  They looked at each other and Eli nodded slightly, as if relinquishing responsibility. Then Connor said, “Just do whatever you have to do.”

  “And if he tries anything, kick him in the—”

  “She’s got it under control, guys,” Jodi said, cutting off Eli.

  I squeezed Connor’s hand and marched away on my mission.

  By the time I reached the bar, my head ached from grinding my teeth, and I thought everyone in the room must be able to hear the pounding of my heart.

  I reached to tap him on the shoulder, my cold, clammy hand pausing midway, then finally making contact. I retracted it as quickly as I could.

  Aaron smiled at me, looking a little surprised, a little wary. His bruise had healed since I last saw him almost a month before. “Oh, hey. It’s you. Do you know Brent somehow?”

  “Heather,” I managed.

  “Huh. Small world, I guess.”

  The bartender handed Aaron what looked like a glass of soda and another glass of something clear and fizzy. Then he gave me an inquisitive glance. “For you, miss?”

  “Dr Pepper.”

  “I gotta get this to my mom.” Aaron nodded the other direction. “Maybe I’ll see you a little later.”

  He retreated a few steps.

  I swallowed, then blurted, “I want to know what happened that night.”

  He froze and turned to me. “What night?”

  I choked on the oatmeal-like lumps that kept forming in my throat. “At Jodi’s party.”

  “Whose?”

  “The one where we met. The one where—” Another lump that refused to go down.

  Aaron glanced at the bartender, who fussed with the ice and various cans of soda, as if not wanting to hear our conversation. Heck, I didn’t want to hear our conversation. “Let me give this to my mother.” Aaron’s voice sounded spookily even. “Meet me outside the ballroom and we’ll talk.”

  I nodded, then watched him walk away.

  The bartender cleared his throat. “Your drink.”

  “Thank you.” My hands shook as I reached for it. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

  “I’ve heard much worse in my profession.” He nodded in the direction Aaron had retreated. “Don’t let him get away with a thing.”

  I dropped a dollar in the tip jar, then moved one foot in front of the other back to my table.

  “What’s going on?” Connor asked.

  I handed him my drink but kept walking toward the doorway, where Aaron waited.

  “Where are you going?” Eli asked, but I ignored him.

  I made a conscious effort to keep my back straight, my head held high, as I neared Aaron. No matter what this conversation revealed, I wouldn’t allow him to make me feel defeated. I’d been forgiven, and nothing could take that away from me.

  Aaron smoothed his curls off his forehead as we walked the long corridor of the Sheraton, away from the reception hall and bustle of the other guests. “So what’s the deal?”

  I stopped and crossed my arms. “Did you roofie my drink?”

  His jaw dropped. I didn’t know that actually happened outside of cartoons. “Did I what?”

  “You heard me,” I said. “My drink was doctored at that party, and you did it.”

  “No I didn’t. I’d have never done something like that.”

  “Oh yeah? It’s not like you had a moral issue with taking me up to the Starrs’ guest bedroom.”

  His face turned to stone. “You didn’t seem to have any problem going up there with me.”

  “I was drugged! You think I’d go up to a bed
room with some guy I’d just met? I’d never have agreed to that.”

  He shrugged. “Alexis says your sixteen-year-old sister just had a baby, so maybe being loose is a family trait or something.”

  Through gritted teeth, I said, “Don’t you dare mention my little sister ever again.”

  Aaron shrugged and fixed me with a hard look. Apparently being accused of attempted rape didn’t settle well with him.

  “I was drugged,” I insisted, remembering how the room had gone fuzzy, how my mouth felt full of sand, how my head burned the next morning. It’d been different from other headaches.

  “Well, not by me. Maybe by that psychotic blond guy who attacked me a few weeks ago. Roofies seem like something that’d be up his alley.”

  I stamped my foot. “Why would Eli roofie me and then give you a black eye?”

  “Maybe to make it look like he didn’t.” Aaron shrugged again. Careless. Annoying.

  “You listen to me.” When I came at him, he scrambled backward and pressed against the wall. “You’ve got no idea what that night did to me. What it cost me. No idea.”

  Aaron slinked to the right, creating space between us. “God knows what you’ve built that night into, but I don’t know how else to tell you that you’ve got the wrong guy. I didn’t put anything in your drink.”

  His first words echoed in my ear—“God knows.”

  God knew how I’d ached. God knew how I’d both appreciated everything that night gave me—him, inner strength, relationships—and yet sobbed for what it stole. Safety. Trust.

  Aaron didn’t know. I could never change that. No matter how long I held him hostage out here, he wouldn’t understand, but God still would. God knew what had happened that night, and that would have to be enough.

  “Your friends had roofies that night, didn’t they?” The question bubbled out of me before I could stop it. My voice sounded different, gentler, even though my insides were still tumultuous.

  Aaron blinked, probably confused by the transformation. “I don’t know. I don’t, like, track their every move or anything.”