Page 7 of The Promise Of You

And what does that say about me?

On my way to the lake house, I stop by Aunt Dawn’s. Her pain is fresh and raw, her house is full, and I feel awkward for only a minute. I haven’t seen my aunt and uncle and my cousins since I was a teenager, and I feel guilty that these are the circumstances that bring me back to them. I used to spend time here a lot during the holidays and summer vacations. Somewhere during my teenage years, that stopped, and I’m not sure why.

I stay only long enough to hug them all, drink some apple cider, and be on my way. Aunt Dawn and my cousins Brendan, Daphne, and Phoebe are still in shock from their sudden loss. But their welcome is genuine, and I leave their home feeling their pain but also feeling the warmth of reconnecting with family.

I’ve missed that.

Then I’m alone at the lake house. I spend my days applying to jobs in a desperate, frantic, and therefore random manner. I spend my evenings drinking too much wine, alone.

I know, I know.

But this is temporary.

Mom and Dad and Fiona eventually get here, and the loneliness is replaced by some massive family tension.

“Did you talk to Tucker?” Mom asks for the umpteenth time as she’s preparing a dip platter.

I throw my head in my hands and scratch my scalp. “What are you doing, honey?” Mom asks softly, seeing that I’m about to lose it but not seeing that it’s over her reaction and not Tucker’s effed-up behavior.

“Gonna catch up with Fi,” I say, then go down the wooded path where Fiona disappeared.

I find her throwing stones in the lake. “Hey.”

“Uncle Kevin is still dead. Shoulda stayed home, woulda saved you a load, woulda saved my nerves.” She throws another pebble, watching it ricochet.

She’s had the usual lecture about her looks—piercings, tattoos, and colored streaks in her hair. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially in her world. Why can’t they see that? “Maybe there’s a song in there,” I say to try and lift her spirits.

A bitter chuckle escapes her lips. “Yeah, maybe.” She turns to face me. “I’m too old for that shit, Clo. I don’t think I’ll ever bother coming back.”

My heart constricts at her words, but I understand her, I really do. Still, I try. “They mean well.”

“Mom and Dad treat you like shit, and you, of all people, should see that.”

“They treat you just the same.”

She turns her back to the lake to look at me. “Right, and I don’t put up with it.”

Right. “I just don’t want the confrontation.”

She closes the space between us to hug me tight. “I’m sorry that asshole hurt you. But I’m not sorry you broke up. Please tell me you’re not getting back with him.”

“Of course not,” I reply without hesitation.

She settles her face in my neck. “Good,” she mumbles on a last squeeze before letting me go and throwing stones in the water again. “How about the job hunt?”

“What about it?”

She shrugs. “How’s it going?”

“Um… I been thinking.”

She turns to face me, pebble in hand. Tilts her head and reads my mind. “Fuck no.”

“I’m tired of working for strangers. I want to work for myself, and at this stage in my life, working for Dad is the closest I can get to that.”

Fiona rolls her eyes dramatically. “UGH,” she yells, her bark echoing on the hills. “You are your own woman. You don’t need anyone. You are the kick ass person who inspires me daily.”

She’s right. No offense, but I am all that. So why do I hope against reason that working for my father is a good idea? “He’s our dad. You don’t get to choose your family.”

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