Page 75 of Take Me to the Wedding

“He was beingmisogynistic,” Wynn said. “He said he wanted totake careof me.” She inflected “take care” like it was “murder.” Then she threw her hands up in the air. “I mean, I thought we were equals. Partners. But it turns out that he’s part of the patriarchy like everyone else!” She burst into tears. I held her. Above her mass of dark curls, Caleb stood in the doorway, shaking his head and pointing to her and me in turn.

I was torn between applauding the notorious Miles for being a nice guy and being proud of my sister for wanting to do things on her own. “We’re strong, independent women,” I said. “But Wynn, you don’t have to work two jobs. I sent money to your account. I don’t want you to struggle like this. How can you do well in school when you’re stressed all the time?”

She looked up, her tear-streaked eyes and her wild, curly hair, making her a sight.

“I wanted to show you that I could do it,” she said with passion, “that I could do what you did. I wanted to take responsibility for wasting the money on that class I failed. I wanted to find my own solution. But I-I thought Miles and I were on the same page. He’s probably the kind of guy who wants the ‘little woman’ to stay home and cook his dinner after work and do all the laundry and put the kids to bed while he drinks beer and burps in front of the TV.”

I forced myself to keep a serious face. I didn’t know Miles. I had already decided that I didn’t like him because since when is it ever a good idea for two broke nineteen-year-olds to move in together? But what if this rent thing was really the issue? I’d been imagining things that were much, much darker and far, far worse.

Caleb gave up the pretense of leaving entirely, clomping across the wood floor and dropping down into his La-Z-Boy chair. “Okay, as a male, I’d like to say something.”

“Why is he here?” Wynn asked.

“To be fair,” I said, “he does live here.” I turned to Caleb. “But we are in the middle of a private discussion.”

“Hold on a second.” He held up a determined hand. “Maybe Miles is trying to alleviate your suffering. Maybe he’s just trying to help you through a tough time. I mean, you Bashar sisters are independent to a frickingfault.”

I threw up my hands. “There shouldn’tbea tough time. The bank account has money in it.”

Wynn pinched her nose. This was typical when we were at an impasse. “You don’t understand.”

Was she talking to me or Caleb?

“Look, honey, whatever happened, I’m so glad you’re here. I’m glad you came ho—here.” I reminded myself that home to her was still Oma’s house. Which I’d ripped from her forever.

She was angry with me now. I could tell. I shouldn’t have mentioned the money. But what was I supposed to do? Communicating with her was walking on eggshells, fractured pond ice, and a net fifty-feet high with holes in it. Impossible.

“There is no home, Sam,” Wynn said with deadly seriousness, making my stomach plunge. “Not anymore.”

I felt tears gather painfully in my nose. “Wynn, Ihadto sell Oma’s house. I didn’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean there’s not a place for you with me. I love you. All I want is for you to be happy.” I stopped short of sayingI’m your home. Because to a nineteen-year-old, that didn’t matter. She wanted the cute brick-and-mortar house with the ruffle curtains and the yellow kitchen cabinets and the smell of brownies baking, Oma sitting in front of the TV crocheting.

“We both just want Oma,” I said.

Caleb got up and judiciously left us alone. Finally.

“I want to go back to before,” Wynn said tearfully. “Jobs, bills, classes, the future… it’s all so much.”

Caleb hobbled back—so soon?—and dropped something into my lap. But it bounced onto the floor with achink. Car keys. With a beer glass key chain filled up with foam that saidBrewers. Not my keys. His.

Wynn bent to pick them up. “What are these for?”

“Somebody drive,” Caleb said in a commanding voice. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” I asked, sounding kind of snippy, a little outraged, and not exactly nice.

“Where are we going?” Wynn asked. She didn’t sound nice either.

“To get ice cream.” Both of us stared at him like he’d just walked out of a spaceship. Those two words sucked all the steam out of my anger. Even worse, something in my heart split wide-open—that thick, unbreachable barricade I’d steeled tightly around it. Caleb had somehow managed to do exactly the right thing at exactly the right time—again.

What man would dare to interject himself between two very emotional women having it out with each other?

I stared at him, my eyes already filling up.

The answer was, a very remarkable man.

I loved him.

The thought didn’t dawn on me so much as roll through me in a massive, gathering wave.

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