Page 45 of Glad You're Here

Thea

My aunt puttered around my kitchen, swiping crumbs off a countertop here and putting away a dish there. It wasn’t that Lenny was a neat freak or anything—far from it. When I was growing up, our home existed as piles of chaos, and as much as we pretended that I was the problem, Lenny was a messy free spirit, too. Tonight, she stress-cleaned.

Every May was especially difficult for her. She hated all the Mother’s Day gifts — the handprint flowers and silly poems— that I’d bring home from school for her. Lenny accepted them with a smile, but they secretly hurt her heart. “I’m not really a mom,” she’d said once when I was too young to understand. She apologized profusely afterward and put my paper daffodils in one of those dusty vases we stored above the refrigerator, thanking me a hundred times.

As I grew older, I grasped the complexity of the situation. I still gave her a Mother’s Day gift, but I started calling them World’s Best Aunt Day gifts, and I’d give them to her the Saturday before Mother’s Day. That eased her conscience a little bit.

May was also the month my mother took her life.

May 13th, twenty-nine years ago.

“Thea, honey, where does your waffle iron go?” Lenny opened and closed cupboards at a reckless pace.

“Dude, you’re going to break my house! Sit for a minute, crazy lady!” I stood and placed both of my hands over Lenny’s. Hers trembled slightly. Damn, I was an idiot to have believed that my aunt would be fine if I followed in my mother’s footsteps. How could I have even considered leaving her to pick up the jagged pieces again? “Lenore,” I said her name slowly and squeezed her hands. “It’s okay. In this moment, everything is okay. Come back to this moment.”

Lenny blinked her bright green eyes at me and nodded. “I used to be the one to say that to you when you were spiraling thinking about the past or future.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m not an extremely depressed, dark teenager anymore.” I gave her a half-smile. “Now I’m a mildly depressed, dark adult, so I guess I get to say the mature things sometimes.”

Lenny laughed and shook her head. Then she bit her lip, and tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled her hands from mine and leaned her back against my counter. “It never leaves you, I guess. I’m overwhelmed by heartbreak today, thinking about how much pain my baby sister lived with and how I couldn’t reach her.”

I sighed and folded my arms, thinking about a pain so intense that it led you to end your own life. I’d felt something similar. I understood.

“I shouldn’t talk about that. I know it’s triggering for both of us.” Lenny apologized and wiped her tears.

“No. Let’s talk about it.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the island between us. “I’ve spent a lot of my life being pissed at my mom for leaving me. I spent time feeling like a piece of shit that caused her death. I’ve even spent time imagining my death. Maybe it could be poetic and artistic, and then I wouldn’t have to deal with how badly life sucks anymore.” I shook my head and held up a hand when my aunt’s eyes widened in horror. “But you know what? I forgive her. She did the best she could with what she knew, and that’s what we all do, right? I forgive her.”

Lenny’s tears were back. “Maybe I did something right raising you.”

“You did most things right. I’m screwed up, but you know, minimally, compared to the rest of the world.” I smiled at my aunt. “And my mom left us both but didn’t leave us alone.”

Lenny sniffled and walked around the island to wrap me in her arms. “No, she didn’t.”

I leaned into her hug, letting the discomfort of our emotional moment wash over me. Then, when it was getting too heavy, I mumbled, “So I was thinking, for World’s Best Aunt Day this year, I know a cool bar I could take you to for lunch. The owner lets me eat and drink there for free. It’s called The Station. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

My aunt laughed and pulled away from our embrace. “That would be something, Thea! Thank you!”

The heaviness drifted off us, and I imagined it floating through my roof and being swallowed up by the dark sky. I always believed that heaviness had to stay— like there was nowhere for it to go. If it was your heaviness, then you had to carry it until you died. But sometimes, you can let it go.

“So,” Lenny pulled two wine glasses from my cupboard. “When do I get to meet Levi?”

I sighed and twirled the end of my ponytail around my finger. “In about two weeks.” Since our national parks road trip in March, we’d only seen each other for a few hours on a random weekend in April. We each drove three hours to meet at the halfway point. It was a creepy desert town with only a gas station and a tiny, filthy motel. So we made out in my car for an hour, ate gas station food that made us both feel sick and then drove home the same night.

The semester at SUU ended in two weeks, though, and then Levi was coming for a nice long visit. He promised it would be a sexy visit. He’d been seeing a therapist for his religious trauma and everything.

I was dying inside from missing him. And I was dying to be railed by him.

Lenny nodded, pouring a glass of white for each of us. “He better deserve you, Thea. You know I’ll be able to see right through his bullshit the second we speak, don’t you?”

I laughed. “He doesn’t know how to bullshit, Lenny.” Lenny loathed Blane and told me what a small man he was every chance she got. She also disliked the other boys or men I dared to bring around her.

I changed the subject as a curious thought popped into my head. “So, you’ve only ever given me half answers when I ask this, but why did you never get married? And if you say the same stupid thing about men being idiots, I revoke World’s Best Aunt Day lunch at your favorite bar.”

Lenny laughed and shrugged. “I was in love once, but it wasn’t legal or socially acceptable. We didn’t see a future, drifted apart, and there’s never been anyone since.”

I blinked slowly at my aunt. Holy shit. You think you know someone. “How have you never mentioned to me that you’re gay?”

Lenny rolled her eyes. “I’m bisexual, and you’ve never mentioned to me that you’re straight! Why does it have to be a part of my identity?”

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