Page 147 of Again, In Autumn

Then, I notice something else about the driveway: Heddy’s Range Rover, my Jeep, and Francesca’s van.

Something’s going on.

I shut my car door and walk up the steps. The window curtain wiggles. When I open the back door, three faces jump out from behind it.

“Parent Trap!” Grayson and Heddy shout. Alice does her best. They’re so smiley and excited, their hands flare out, the beginnings of a jazz troupe.

That’s when I notice Francesca standing in the living looking annoyed. She says, “This will only work out if she owns a vineyard in Napa.”

We meet eyes and behind her grumpy exterior I sense she may be ready to wave a white flag. She shifts her weight, remorse creating the downturn in her mouth.

I close the door and offer my empty hands and sigh, “Since we’re both here, can we at least talk?”

“Oh!” Heddy guides me into the living room and grabs Francesca’s wrist. We’re both pushed to the couch. “I have all of your favorite things of the kitchen so you girls can sit here and chat, cry, whatever your heart’s desire. You don’t have to get up for anything.”

I ask, “Do you have a pot to pee in?”

She says, “I could.”

She walks off with the kids, and Francesca and I sit alone in the living room. Boxes of Christmas decorations sit in the corner. They’ve brought a Christmas tree stand.

“Are you guys staying here for Christmas?” I ask.

“Yes,” she answers. “It’s just easier with David’s parents and the girls being up the road. I don’t know why we haven’t done it before.” She stares at a red ribbon on the rug. “Probably because last Christmas we had decided to separate.”

Heddy and her helpers come back into the room with snacks and drinks. The waitstaff would be quiet except for Alice who giggles to herself while handing me a cup of coffee. Grayson gives Francesca a cup of fizzy water.

Heddy says, “Carrots and hummus for Fran. Cheetos for Vienna.”

We take our bowls, and they scamper back out of the room. I smile, looking at our specifically tailored snacks, knowing that Heddy didn’t open any bag of chips or the food she thinks is our favorite, but we haven’t eaten in ten years. She knows everything about the two of us. Not just us. She pays attention to everyone she loves.

A burning candle glows on the fireplace mantel.

“I waited for you to call,” Francesca starts.

“I wanted for you to call,” I say. “Fran, I have nothing left to say.”

She holds her bowl with two hands that rattle on it nervously. “I’m sorry I freaked out about you and Adam. I’m sorry I ruined Thanksgiving.”

My heart pains, looking at the Cheetos and listening to Heddy laugh with the kids in the kitchen. “You didn’t. It was a joint effort by the three Roses, but I’d like to lay more of the blame on Dad.”

“What did he do?” She wasn’t in the house for the big blow up.

I respond simply, “Never show up.” I watch the side of her face turn toward me.

“I always just thought of family as the two of us. And Heddy.” She continues, “I’m so sorry I was a shitty sister.”

I put my Cheetos on the coffee table. “That’s not what I was saying.”

“No, but it’s the truth,” she grumbles. “I have always relied on you, and I didn’t even realize it. I had mom and then I had you. I had no idea I was putting so much pressure on you and didn’t listen. Dave helped me look at the evidence.”

She adds, “I thought I was doing so good with counseling and getting back on track with my marriage. I thought I was fixed! That all my bad relationship habits fell on him. I didn’t realize it all started with you.”

“I know that mom took extra care with you,” I say. “She would tell me you were more sensitive, so I treated you the way she did. You would have had no reason to think you did anything wrong.”

Francesca’s eyes begin to water, and she turns her head toward me. “I hate knowing that you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you, Fran!” I move her bowl and hold her hands.

---