Page 96 of Over the Edge

“I liked her. Actually, I can’t remember anything except for the horse ride we went on, so I guess I liked her horses,” Quinn says a bit wistfully before looking at me. “I’d apologize for being rude, but the first thing she did was jump into my rental car without asking for permission. There are other things too, but I’m going to be nice tonight.”

“Your dad’s really been married seven times?” I ask.

Oliver shrugs. “Nine, actually, but after number four my rehearsal dinner speeches really started to plateau.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Evelyn says.

“Yeah, there are only so many ways to nicely say that someone’s marriage might be doomed, but you hope it isn’t.” Oliver’s tone remains purposefully light.

“Imagine, without them we wouldn’t have gone horseback riding,” Evelyn reminds them.

“You wouldn’t have to spend so much at Christmas for all your sisters,” Quinn counters as she picks up the remnants of her crust.

“Money spent on a good gift is never a waste,” Oliver says.

Quinn breaks off a bit of her crust and tosses it at Oliver without much force. He manages to catch it between his teeth as Quinn says, “I see you’re still reading the quotes on the inside of chocolate wrappers.”

“I’m actually starting to get a bit hungry, does anyone want more?” I ask. I need a minute. It’s nice to be around people and not collapse into myself as I deal with the cocktail of relief and grief fermenting in me.

I get water as I collect myself, staring out the small window over the sink when Evelyn pads in.

“Has Oliver’s dad actually been married that many times or was that for my benefit?” I ask.

“Yeah. He jokes about it and makes it all sound like an adventure, but it does weigh on him. I think the fact that he really does care about all his sisters makes it better. They have a group chat that is impossible to keep up with,” Evelyn explains as she starts putting all the stray pizza slices into one central box. “And it was for your benefit. I’m not going to share Quinn’s personal stuff because that’s not my place, but most of the first year of college was bonding over our dysfunctional families.”

The look of concern on my face tells me there are questions she’s stopping herself from asking and I’m thankful for her patience.

“Sounds like I’m in good company.”

“You are. Having people like them around doesn’t fix everything. My brother still wasn’t communicating with us about what he was going through. My parents still are on my ass about everything like I’m sixteen sneaking out my window.”

“You snuck out?”

“All the time. I had places to be, parties to improve. Really hard work.” She collects the empty boxes and piles them near the trash for later. “Shit was still bad, but at least I wasn’t alone in it.”

“You guys don’t have to get up in arms for my sake. I know she’s likable, it’s fine,” I say.

“She is literally a woman who crashed our trip and we have no investment in. Sure, she knows a hitman water guide in Louisiana and would be able to sneak us into a concert or something. But I care about you,” Evelyn says, and my heart catches on her use ofI. Notwecare about you.Icare about you. “And if it makes you feel better, Quinn will be holding a grudge against her until the end of time. She’s like that.”

“Yeah, it does make me feel a bit better.”

“Good. Now grab your pizza, and you have our full permission to feel like shit or not even talk, but for us that’s a group activity.”

I grab a plate and load up on the misshapen pieces that the others passed over. When I try to take a seat on the couch, the three of them boo and I settle on the floor.

“It’s a very important part of the process,” Evelyn says.

“How?” I ask.

“If I could go back ten years and ask our drunk selves I would. It’s just part of it.” She shrugs.

“All right then.”

Oliver and Quinn stay for another hour before they say their goodbyes and promise to see us tomorrow at the practice festival. Evelyn walks them out as I collect their crumb-covered plates.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Evelyn asks hesitantly.

“Not particularly. She left. I think this time it’s for good.” That familiar guilt calls for me. I should care more, is what it tells me. I should care, but the memories I’ve been clinging to have the stability of a house of cards on a windy afternoon.

---