“Listen,” I say, speaking with as much patience as I can muster, “as you know, I took off the next two weeks, so I’m going to leave first thing in the morning, and I’m going to help you figure this out,” I reassure her, even as my blood pressure and pitch rise with each word.
Fia remains mute on the other end, but I don’t stop moving.
I storm into the kitchen, grabbing a pad of paper to make a list of everything I need to do and bring. Working in the wedding industry means I’ve gotten really good at being able to pivot.
Though, my plan up until five minutes ago involved mostly relaxing and catching up with friends over the next two weeks. Perhaps a fancy dinner downtown with my best friend Audrey, and maybe even letting the bartender who’s been messaging me take me out for drinks. Then, eight days from now, I was supposed to drive to Wilmington, spoil my twenty-one-year old sister to a bougie Christmas celebration, and be back in Raleigh for a night out with friends before my next wedding shoot.
I had invited Fia to spend Christmas break with me, but she’s been picking up extra shifts at her barista job, and now it’s all making sense.
Fia sighs, her voice thinning. “You’re making a big deal out of it, Pen. Really, I just wanted to tell you, I’m already working things out.”
She’s said she’sworking things outtwice now, which doesn’t give me any peace of mind, because I know my sister. “Working things out” means she probably picked out the baby’s name.
I bob my head vigorously, even though she can’t see me. “I’m sure you are, babe. But you shouldn’t have to process this news by yourself. We need to talk about the house and everything else when I get there. Love you, see you tomorrow.”
“Um…love you, too.” She sniffles, sounding more hesitant than ever.
I end the call and toss my phone onto the marble kitchen counter, then yell out into my empty condo “Everything is going to be fine!”
Of course, no one can hear me but myself.
What I need is an hour-long meditation and to take a walk around the park, but there’s no time, so I do the next best thing. I dart into my bathroom and snatch the lonely glass of white wine from the bath caddy, downing it in two gulps.
Not the best coping mechanism, I know.
But everything will be fine. I will remind Fia that having a baby isn’t like rescuing a kitten, help her figure out finishing college and finances…and convince her to sell the family house,andwe will have a jolly little Christmas together. I’ve accomplished more in two weeks.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
2
Penny
NOW
Cooler bags line my countertop, stuffed to the brim with groceries from my own kitchen, because one thing I can be certain of is that my little sister lives like a true college student. The last thing I want is to do a grocery haul in my hometown and risk running into someone from high school—honestly, I’d rather light my wardrobe on fire.
Once I triple-check my list, making sure I have everything—including the already wrapped Christmas gifts for Fia—I go room by room through my condo, shutting off the lights. A deep sigh rattles my lungs when I pull the plug on the little Christmas tree next to my TV, all decked out with pink ornaments and ribbons. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed to be spending my winter break away from here. It’s my sanctuary.
I worked so hard, literally busted my ass all year, so I could take this time off just forme.
No editing bridal photos, no boarding destination wedding flights, no hotels, and absolutely no mothers-in-law shouting random instructions at me. Just me, the plush bubblegum-pink velvet sofa I splurged on when I bought this place, and an endless stream of holiday Hallmark movies.
But the fact of the matter is I’m the only reliable family member Fia has left, so what choice do I have? My twin brother, Danny, is in prison, and she might not be asking for my help, but I practically helped our Nan raise her. I can’t let her down now.
After the final light is off, and my bags line the wall outside my front door, I exhale a bittersweet sigh and lock the door.
Every inch of my baby-blue Mini-Cooper convertible is stuffed, including the trunk, seats, and floorboard. Most days, I have nothing but adoration for this car I worked so hard to buy; it’s a true extension of me—petite, stylish, and with just the right amount of sass. But as I turn onto the freeway, barely able to see out of the rearview mirror, I suddenly wish I had something bigger.
“Adios,” I whisper, taking a sip of my green smoothie as the Raleigh skyline fades behind me.
Only two hours separate me from my coastal hometown of Wilmington, North Carolina. I begin the drive by playing my favorite true crime podcast, but end up pausing and rewinding it no less than thirty times, eventually giving up halfway into the episode. It was a futile attempt to distract myself from the continuous chatter running rampant in my head.
I touch the silver angel dangling from my rearview mirror. It hung in Nan’s car my whole life, and now it accompanies me. Keeping me safe, I like to think.
“Nan, why did you have to let Fia read all those romance books?” I half laugh, half groan, talking to my late grandma out loud.
My sister is a hopeless romantic. Her bookshelves in high school were full of love stories, and she would much rather spend her days with her head between the pages than out with her peers. Nan thought that was a good sign, and so did I—until Brett came into the picture.
