Page 37 of It's Always Us

She tips backward slightly, laughing at her own wit. “She loves to bake and here.” She points again. “She’s having them try chocolate dill pickle cookies.” She giggles, showing the dozen gagging and running and telling Baker she’s fired from the kitchen.

I laugh as she runs through the whole strip, describing every elaborate detail. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

She grins, but then it falters a little. “I wish I had brothers and sisters. All my friends do. Mom says she’s just grateful to have me.” Her sad tone and soft-spoken wish punches me straight in the gut.

I put my arm around her. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.” She leans into me. “But, I have really great friends. Slade’s so grumpy he’s like having a big brother.”

Her smile returns as Linda hollers that it’s time for dinner, and I’m grateful for the excuse to leave this conversation.

In the kitchen, we sit at the tiny four-person table. Linda serves spaghetti and garlic bread while she fills me in on her current work issues, managing the staff at a fast-food chain. Bree stands next to her chair, rocking back and forth as she sucks noodles between her lips and chatters away about school and her dance class.

“Can you come to my dance show? You have to see it. It’s going to be the best one yet,” she promises, bouncing on her toes, her arms waving dramatically.

“Honey, your show is at the end of the year,” Linda interjects. “Let’s check with Alex when it gets closer.”

I smile. “I’ll definitely be there if I can.”

Bree grins, showing off her slightly crooked teeth. “Want to see my new dance leotard? It shimmers and has flowers all over it.” Before I have a chance to answer, she’s gone.

Linda laughs. “She’s been counting down the days for this dinner.”

“I’m sorry I missed last month. She’s always a bright spot in my day.”Especially today.

“Well, she’s been asking to stop by the shop to see you, but I know these past months have probably been . . . difficult.” She sets her napkin next to her plate. “You doing all right?”

My gut pinches tight again, but I remind myself that this little girl is the only thing that matters, and I don’t owe Linda anything. I don’t want to talk about my certification test, and my relationship with Mark remains only between us for now. Besides, I’m not ready to share the news with Linda. If or when the time comes, I’ll have to be sure I’m ready for the fallout.

“I’m ok. I’m busy at work. It’s my favorite place to be, so I can’t complain.”

Linda smiles to reveal her darkened and yellowed teeth. “Alex, you always impress me with your resilience.”You should’ve seen me earlier.“You’re brave.” She pauses, lining up her fork and knife on her plate. “I wish I could’ve been like you. It would’ve saved me from making the biggest mistakes of my life. Ones I’ll never be able to forgive myself for.”

My eyes linger on the tired woman sitting across from me, believing she’s lived a whole life full of heartbreaks and challenges I can’t even begin to understand. I’m certain she lives each day with regrets she’ll never outrun and will haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I’m not brave.” I set my fork on my plate, feeling the weight of that admission, especially after today. “I’ve let fear get the best of me. I’ve hurt people and not been truthful.”

She stares at me across the table. “You recognize it. That’s pretty brave to me. You aren’t hiding and scared to face . . . yourself.”

Her eyes fall to the table again, and I can see the emotion well up behind her eyes.

I smile, trying to defuse them. “Yeah, well, it’s clear I have issues just like everyone else.”

Bree bops back in, showing off her new dance outfit, and we break out the cookies I brought, all of us needing a dose of sugar.

“Do you think you could watch Bree for me Wednesday night?” Linda asks hesitantly, gathering our empty plates. “I have to cover for someone on the evening shift.”

“Please,” Bree begs, pressing her hands together over her heart. “We can watch a movie and make popcorn.”

“Sure. I’d be happy to.” I stand to help Linda clean up the kitchen. After I dry the dishes, Bree shows me her art project from school before I say good night.

At home, I shower and crawl into bed. I stare at my phone, seeing a missed call from Mark. I think about calling him back, but chances are he’s already asleep. He’s always in bed early to be rested and at physical therapy first in the morning.

I want to talk to him and tell him about my day. He was the one person who never tried to fix it. He always helped when I asked and stood by when I needed space, but he never pushed. He never treated me like my struggle to read needed to be corrected. He was ok with me just the way I was.

I worry that might be another thing that’s changed. We haven’t talked about it, but I know he hasn’t forgotten. It’s why he doesn’t text me but always calls. The problem is our conversations are becoming sporadic, and it’s apparent his schedule doesn’t leave much room for anything other than football.

I tap on an app, scrolling. My screen fills with his face and interview clips of him being asked about practice, the upcoming game, and his shoulder. I scroll further, landing on pictures of him inside the stadium with a woman cozied up beside him. She poses with pouty lips and in skimpy clothes—the image of self-assured perfection.

It’s the same stab right through my chest seeing him with smart, beautiful, successful women. The caption says she’s the daughter of the Liberties owner. That should be comforting, but I can’t help the insecurity that grabs hold, telling me she fits by his side so much better than I ever will.

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