Page 34 of Playing For Keeps

She sniffed on the other end of the line, seeming to take a break to mull it over. “Can you wait for me at my place?”

Of course, of course he could. Sebastian agreed, already shoving clothes into an overnight bag and drawing the strap across his body. He grabbed his keyring and held tight to the spare key she’d given him a week before, the notches digging red marks into his palm.

He had no idea how her week devolved into this, but he knew one thing: whoever hurt her—whatever happened out in New Hampshire—there was going to be hell to pay.

Baby showers always made Farren feel older than she was, or imagined she was anyway. They were a blatant reminder of her life moving at a different pace, a parallel plane but removed from the people she knew back home. In the city, being unmarried and child-free in your late twenties wasn't unusual. Rural New Hampshire, in a family of devout Catholics? Less commonplace.

Sunday came, and the family was shoved into the too-small basement once again after mandatory Mass, but this time, her sister sported a sash labeling her “mommy-to-be” and the Sam’s Club blue cupcakes her dad drove half an hour each way to pick up, sitting on a folding card table. Farren sent her dad a list of gifts and her credit card so she wouldn’t show up empty-handed. Streamers draped from the white drop ceiling tiles and the chatter around Farren almost made up for the lack of city sounds she’d grown so used to.

Lindsay’s husband Logan was close by always, a hand on her hip, cradling her belly as he whispered into her ear and they giggled. Farren was struck with a fit of strange jealousy she’d never felt, which made no sense. She hadn’t changed her mind about what she wanted; children were a lovely mirage on the horizon but something she could do with or without. It could have been the setting, her and Josh the only unclaimed ones in the room, leaving her adrift.

Children raced about, and at least one of them had some baby-blue frosting on the corners of their mouth, indulging a little earlier than they were supposed to. Lindsay sat in a dining room chair, ripping into wrapping paper and cooing over each gift. Mom brought down a big laundry basket, wide and low, to fold and set clothes into. Since it was just family, there was no need to carefully separate the items to remember for “thank you” cards. Maybe the coziness, the feeling they all had of someone to reach out to, someone to whisper to or scold was what left her feeling lonelier than ever.

Even though Farren was with her family, she fell back into her niche, the little hole she’d carved out for herself to disappear into, the invisibility that formed so much of her early life. She kept to herself, the high of seeing her sister okay fading back into the bruised feeling she felt when they’d neglected to inform her of what was going on. Or every other thing that happened when she’d been growing up. She wasn’t sure if mentioning it would help at all, or if it might just drive a deeper wedge between them. Either way, today wasn’t the day for it.

They finished the shower out with some fun, themed games and dinner, each sibling dipping out around a different time for bedtimes or nap times and the like. Farren trekked up to her tiny childhood bedroom, texted Sebastian she’d been thinking about him and wished him luck with the week ahead, then buried herself under her overbright 2000s covers.

Farren hid out in Wakefield for a few more days, helping her parents, meeting up with people she knew from school who stayed or came back to start their own families. It was brutal. She felt like no one wanted her there—so caught up in lives she was no longer involved in. Farren’s siblings were all settled, with no time to catch up or hang out.

She felt nervous and insecure about her place in life, stuck back in the town where she tried and failed to learn how to parallel park. A few days after she’d arrived, she reached a boiling point, the feelings that calmed with relief now back with raging force. She sat at dinner that afternoon, her leg bouncing under the farmhouse table, her mother admonishing her for doing it. Unused to eating dinner before four in the afternoon and feeling more than a little scrubbed raw. All the vibrancy, all the energy she surrounded herself with in D.C. was gone. It left her feeling like she didn’t know who the hell she was supposed to be. No more distractions, just the ebb and flow of self-doubt and fear.

It was just them, the tick-tick of the wall clock punctuating the silence in between bites. Her mother’s ugly crocheted tablecloth tickled her skin through her leggings. Afternoon sunlight lit the trees outside on fire, and it should have been pretty. She should have been awed, but all Farren could focus on was the anxiety of sitting there in her feelings and not being able to hold back anymore.

“Farren Ruth Davis, you better stop that!” Donna tried to look and sound stern, but it just came out a little tired.

“Or what, Mom? I’m leaving soon anyway and then you won’t have to deal with it anymore.” She shoved a forkful of green beans into her mouth, the squishy vegetables no match for her aggressive chewing.

“What’s gotten into you? We didn’t ask you to come up here, and now you walk around moody all week. If you don’t want to be here, don’t threaten me with leaving. You’re grown, you do as you please.”

“Exactly. You didn’t ask me. You didn’t even bother to tell me Lindsay was in an accident until days later! Then you had the nerve to tell me more about your bird feeder and the goddamned neighbor than my own sister. I’m not a stranger. I’m not an acquaintance. This was my home too. You’re my family too.” Her voice cracked on the last two sentences, the feeling of being an outcast in a space that was supposed to be safe too much to contain.

Her dad set down his silverware, giving her the look, the one that told her she was on thin ice. Especially since she’d dared to blaspheme in front of her mother.

“Well, maybe if you came home more than once a year, you might be more involved!” Her mother’s voice bordered on shrill, face pinched as if she were fighting hard to rein it back in.

“Are you telling me I should be sorry for that? Is that what Toby meant when he said it’s not him I should apologize to?”

It wasn’t as if her mother could speak for Toby and whatever he’d vaguely referred to, but she leaned into the sentiment regardless.

“Now that you mention it, yes. Yes, an apology would be nice.”

“Yeah, it sure would. So, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for yours. You’re quick to give me crap for not coming up more than once a year, but when have you ever come down to see me?” Farren rose from her seat, gathering up her plate, silverware and dirty napkin, and stomped to the kitchen. She hoped they heard the loud clank of the dishes hitting the bottom of the sink. Farren knew this was an overreaction, but the scab she thought mended opened right back up being home. She’d tried to heal, tried to grow as a person away from here. It was scary how quickly it felt like it was negated.

Farren wanted support, she wanted attention. She wanted Sebastian.

Her father murmured something, probably telling Josh to stay put, and Farren heard her mother enter the kitchen behind her, breath harsh and hard.

“What are you talking about? What do I have to apologize for? You know I can’t fly with my DVT.” Donna’s incredulous tone raised the room’s temperature to scorching, and although Farren knew she should try to hold back, let it go… she couldn’t. Not this time. There were buses. Trains. If any one of them wanted to spend time with her on her terms, they could have.

“What is my favorite meal?” The questions started and poured out of her relentlessly. “What’s my favorite color? Who was my first kiss?” She turned away from the sink, taking a step closer to her mother with each question. Anger flooded her, anger at being forgotten and overlooked. No one considered her unless they had to.

It was no wonder she was lonely, no wonder she’d sought out crappy boyfriends in the past. She’d just been happy to be the center of someone’s world, even if it was only a little while. Even if it was only for as long as Farren could stand it without panicking.

“Which classes did I fail in school because you weren’t able to help me with my homework and Mikey was drowning in SAT prep and couldn’t do it? Did you know I have hypothyroidism? Did you know it took me until I was living in D.C. to get a diagnosis and treatment because nobody noticed I was exhausted all the time or cared enough to get me to a doctor? Everyone just assumed I was lazy!” Her voice rose in volume, hysteria bubbling up and choking all maturity from her. This was little Farren, teenaged Farren that could have done with so much more, the one who’d needed her mom. Current Farren was well past that need.

“Where were you when I was sobbing my face off on the side of the road because Ryan-Fucking-Anderson called me fat and disgusting on our date because I wouldn’t blow him, then kicked me out of his car to walk home in the dark, hmm?” Gross, heaving sobs clawed their way up Farren’s chest, tears streaking down her face.

“What wisdom did you have to impart on me when I left home? What well-wishes? All you said was ‘see you soon, hon’ as if I was going to the store!”

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