“Other than last year…when you ran into Will.”
“Yes, but that was an anomaly, and if we’re being fair, it wasn’t even that bad—like, a minor hangover doesn’t exactly compare to hospitalization.”
“I can’t believe you were in the hospital, and I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know because I didn’t want you to. It was Christmas, and Mom was really sick. You had enough on your plate. Plus, I was embarrassed.”
“I don’t understand what you thought you had to be embarrassed about. I mean, he’s the one who lied about being involved with someone. You did nothing wrong.”
“I appreciate the defense, Marls, but think about it. You know me. I pride myself on being independent. Not to mention highly capable.” I nudged her with my elbow as I pointed at myself. “Major older child syndrome, right here.”
“On an intellectual level, I get it. But on a personal level, it’s tough knowing you hid something so important from me.”
“You know I’ve had boyfriends. It’s not like I’ve been a nun. But Will was an exception. He’s the only person I ever cared about enough to get hurt by. All my usual plays went out the window—including telling you everything.”
Marley paused. “But it’s good that you fell for someone, right? To know it’s possible. Even if it ended badly. It’s not like you were planning on being alone forever?”
“Honestly, I can’t say.” I tugged on the oversized sleeves of my sweater. “Recently, I’ve wondered if watching what happened with Mom messed me up.”
“Mom? What?”
“You and Miranda were too young to remember, but I was six when Dad died, so I have memories of them together. For you two, it’s all theoretical, a story—they had this great love, and Mom lived happily on her memories for the rest of her days. But I remember the other side.”
Marley threw down the dish towel she’d been twisting and turned to face me, her expression solemn. “You never talk about this.”
There was a reason I didn’t speak about that time. The last thing I wanted to do was taint my sister’s memories. But I owed it to her to be honest.
“I remember Mom crying herself to sleep at night. She had to pick up the pieces and move on while still raising us. I was too little to understand it, but looking back, I can see she was afraid. It took her a long time to rejoin the land of the living. I can remember being seven, eight, nine years old, and helping her with dinner, laundry, or putting Miranda to bed at night.
“She was a wonderful mom, but those first years after Dad died were awful. She seemed committed to making sure you two were okay, but with me, it was almost like she knew she couldn’t fully hide it, so she just gave in and let me help her. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not complaining. I think any sane person would have been as hurt and nonfunctional as Mom was. But now, as a thirty-one-year-old, I can see the effects of it on my life. Seeing her staring out the window for hours, barely moving, neverlaughing, and smiling the way I remembered from when Dad was alive. It stuck with me.”
Marley scrubbed a hand over her face. “I honestly don’t remember Dad at all. There are fragments, flashes of memory, but that’s it.”
“He was an amazing guy. And he loved Mom to pieces. I’m glad I have the memories I do. But in a way, I lost something different than you guys did. And it made me a very protective big sister.” I shoved her playfully on the shoulder.
Marley pursed her lips thoughtfully. “That's why you went to college close and took your time to graduate.”
“I didn’t want to be a burden financially, and I wanted to be within driving distance, in case you needed me. But I was so ready to get out of here. And Mom supported me. She never pressured me to stay or do anything other than live my life.”
“You put that on yourself.”
“Helping take care of you guys was something I could do. Something practical, handling logistics. It helped me deal. Getting emotional—that was Mom’s thing.”
Marley scoffed. “Big sis, just because you’re brilliant at shoving all those peskyfeelingsdown doesn’t mean they’re not there. I know you’re more closed off than me or Miranda, but you’ll never convince me you don’t have a big heart.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. “I’m glad Mom lived long enough to see me get my degree and move to Seattle, to start working at Kolya’s.”
“She was proud.”
“I know. She never stopped telling me.” I exhaled a weighted breath. “On Thanksgiving five years ago, a few days before I met Will, Mom pulled me into her bedroom to talk. I think she knew her decline was escalating. She wanted to make sure I knew how sorry she was that she’d relied on me so much when I was young. I’m glad I got the chance to tell her I didn’t resent her for any of it. As much as it might have made me gun-shy when it comes torelationships, it also made me resilient and confident in myself. I told her she had nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll never forget the look of relief on her face.”
“It’s a good thing you had that conversation when you did. No way would she have been able to have it the next year. She was too far gone.”
I fingered the ring on my index finger, one of the many I’d inherited from my mom. Marley got our mom’s extensive holiday sweater collection, but she and Miranda were happy to let me have the contents of Mom’s jewelry case.
Marley eyed me as I fidgeted. “You really think that’s why you’ve never had a real boyfriend? Because of watching Mom lose Dad?”
“She was never the same after he died, even though she was still young. But she didn’t date. Kept her same job at the factory. Her entire identity was raising us and being a model citizen of Coleman Creek.”
