Page 53 of Wherever You Are
Garrison goes rigid, and eerie silence passes. A lump rises to my throat, but I stay quiet and respect their space.
Mrs. Abbey says softly, “You should apologize to Hunter.”
Garrison drops his hands and stares at the floor.
“He graciously invited you to Penn for the weekend, and he told me that you cursed at him. Every single one of your brothers is making an effort to include you in their lives, and you keep pushing them away.”
“You know why,” he says, almost inaudibly.
She sighs for the third time. “Boys play rough. Your father is right; you need to stop being so sensitive.”
My lips part at her response, and Garrison has completely shut down. He no longer speaks back.
“All I want and hope and pray,” she says, “is that my four boys will be together as family.Pleasedon’t make this Thanksgiving uncomfortable by hiding yourself in your room.Please.” She looks and sounds on the verge of tears.
My stomach knots at what she’s asking him to do. By being around his brothers, he risks another bruise, possibly a broken bone—his safety. Yet, she acts likehe’sat fault for the strained sibling relationship.
In the aching silence, I find myself standing up and saying softly but loud enough, “I invited Garrison to Thanksgiving with me.” I didn’t really, but I suppose I just did.
His head whips towards me, surprise opening his mouth.
I approach but not too close, and Mrs. Abbey tries to place my appearance. I seem familiar to her because I’ve appeared on entertainment news sites. Which is just surreal in itself.
“I’m Willow,” I greet with a sheepish wave.
Recognition floods her face. “Loren Hale’s cousin.”Half-sister, I mentally correct. She touches her heart. “I deeply apologize for what my son did to your cous—”
“Mom,” Garrison interjects. “You don’t have to go around making amends for me. We’re already friends.” He gestures between me and him.
Mrs. Abbey forces a kind smile, obviously peeved by Garrison’s attitude. “So you’ll be spending Thanksgiving with the Hales then?”
“Um…” I hadn’t thought about this. Lo has already offered, but I’ve been contemplating returning to Maine to spend a little time with Ellie. I’ve been saving for a plane ticket. “I might actually visit my little sister in Maine, but Garrison is welcome to come.”
Garrison knows about mystrained relationship with my mom and my little sister. Maybe that’s why he says, “Thanks, Willow, but I can’t.”
Did I do the wrong thing by interjecting? I just wanted to give him an escape if he needed one.
Mrs. Abbey radiates with joy. As though Garrison’s rejection of my offer was an affirmation that he’ll try to get along with his brothers.
I drift backwards as Mrs. Abbey tells us to “have fun”—not even worried that we’ll hook up. No mention of “keep the door open” or “behave responsibly”—just,have fun.I wonder if it’s because I don’t look like anyone Garrison would ever hook up with. Or if she’d categorize hooking up as a teenage expectation for her sons, so she’s okay with it happening.
If she had a daughter, maybe she’d be more protective. Maybe it’d be different.
Garrison shuts and locks the door.
I return to the beanbag, and not long after, he joins me and grabs the remote. He waits to pressplay. The air is heavy and weighted.
I stare at my hands when he says, “I’m cursed. I’m fuckingcursed, and if I spend Thanksgiving with you, I’ll ruin your time with your mom and your sister—or your relationship with Loren Hale. I can’t do that to you.”
It’s better than you staying here,I think but struggle to say. I rewind to the beginning. “Your mom knows.” It nearly steals my breath again. She knows that his brothers have physically hurt him before.
He’s so quiet that I turn my head. He hangs his forearms on his knees, and his solemn gaze sinks into mine. “Hunter would bloody my nose. I’d tell my parents, and they’d just saywhy didn’t you fight back?To them, I’m the youngest, so being picked on is just expected.My dad said that my brothers were trying to make me tough, but…” Garrison trails off and cements his gaze on the floor. “You remember the first questionnaire?”
“Yeah.” It’s impossible to forget.
“Remember my answer toany surgeries?” he asks, unable to meet my eyes.
“I think so. You said something about breaking your wrist and leg and needing pins.”
