Page 11 of Glad You Exist

Icomb my fingers through my still-damp hair and jog down the three flights of stairs. Today is one of those days when I once again become acutely aware of just how much of a privilege it is to have the third-floor loft to myself. It is quiet and I can focus on my app development. But that is also the reason I woke up late, and Mom is pissed.

I grimace, remembering the way I woke up this morning with my mother smacking my ass with a pillow. Mom mentioned last weekend that she and Dad had decided to cancel the trip they had planned for Aspen, realizing a party is way overdue. That twenty-five years of marriage needs to be celebrated. It was all last minute, so she needs help setting up. I had completely forgotten about it and pulled an all-nighter, working on my new venture.

I reach for my phone from the back pocket of my dark jeans. Mom woke me up at noon and now the clock reads 01:06 PM.

“Shit.” The party is supposed to start at three.

I smooth the collar of my grey oxford shirt and look around our front entryway. I grin at what Mom has been able to pull off in just a few days. She has set up the wooden doors with a silver and white balloon arch. I walk past the sitting area into the kitchen. A whole array of appetizers and finger sandwiches have been lined up artfully on the island facing the big bay windows.

I stifle a groan, knowing I was supposed to help do all of this. By the looks of it, there isn’t even anything left for me to do. Mom is all about teaching responsibility, so even though she hires people to set up, serve, and make the food, she still expects us to pull our own weight and pitch in.

I sneeze. From the smell of it, she has gone a little overboard with the flowers. She has placed vases full of peonies and tulips everywhere, including the dining area and main living room, which was only slightly bigger than the sitting room. It also boasts its own food displays.

Just how many people did she actually invite?

I squint, feeling the start of a migraine. I barely slept and skipped meals, so the smell of the food and the flowers mixed in the air is getting to me.

I am about to walk past the library when I notice that the door is slightly open. I make a move to close it when I hear books falling to the floor.

“Dad?”

I stop when I find Lizzy crouching down on the floor, her arms filled with books. She startles at the sound of my voice and hits her shoulder on the bookshelves, dropping the rest on the floor. She shuts her eyes, flinching.

Hurrying over to her, I grasp her by the elbow to steady her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

Liz nods, smiling sheepishly up at me.

“Yeah, your mom just left me unsupervised in here again.”

I laugh at that. I’m amazed she even remembers how she used to spend hours in this room when we were growing up. I would be upstairs in the family room playing video games with Kyle and she would be in here reading one book after another. Often getting lost in rearranging the books in a system only she understood, which was what she appeared to be doing now. One shelf is empty, its contents now dumped on the floor.

Without a word, I crouch down beside her, handing her the books. She arranges them back on the shelf. We work silently like that until all the books have been put away. I sneak a look at her as she organizes the last few books in her arms. Her hair is in twin braids, and she is wearing a pink dress that hits her just above the knee. Her forehead scrunches up in concentration, her mouth pursed as she gets lost in her own little world.

I have forgotten how cute she is. The urge to tug on her braids, like when we were eight, is strong. I stick my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out.

Then I remember my predicament.

“Is my mom mad at me?”

Lizzy’s eyes light up in amusement. She giggles. Prompting what feels like an ear-splitting grin on my face. I can’t help it. I have missed this.

I’ve missedher.

Seeing her in my house, especially in this room, makes it feel like no time has passed.

“I don’t think so. She seems to be in a great mood today. She even brought me here after I helped put the balloon arch up. I think it was more so she and my mom could start on mimosas than to reward me.”

Another smile is thrown my way as she looks over her shoulder.

How fuckin’ pretty.

I am about to tell her about the ass-smacking I got when what she has just said registers.

“Wait—how long have you been here?”

“We got here around ten.” She turns to face me, and I can tell she’s starting to feel uncomfortable as she shifts her feet and looks everywhere but up at me.

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