Page 5 of I Can't Even

“Julia, what are you doing here? Dear god, did you wear that outfit in public? You look like a homeless person,” Mom snapped. Before I could open my mouth to answer, she continued, “Did you run out of money? Is that why you’re here? Oh, hell’s bells, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

My head lowered toward my chest. Had I really expected a different greeting? I was an idiot.

Chapter Two

“I’m sorry, so sorry.” Em apologized for what had to be the fifth time in as many minutes.

“It’s fine,” I said.

After kissing the cheek my mother grudgingly turned in my direction and giving her a hug, which was not returned, I decided it might be best if she was given some time to get used to the idea of my being here and escaped upstairs to my old room.

“I should have told her you were coming once Soph texted me from the airport, but I was trying to get her to eat some breakfast and first she wanted eggs, and then she wanted toast, but then it became pancakes, and, well, I forgot.”

We were standing in my childhood bedroom on the second floor of the house. I glanced around the room. Not much had changed since I’d fled into the night nine years ago. The one time I’d been back five years ago, I’d stayed at Sophie’s house as it was less stressful for everyone concerned, but this trip I’d planned to stay with Babs, so I could better assess the situation.

My old queen-sized bed with its matching desk and dresser was still here. The paint on the walls was the same sage green that I had spent endless hours staring at as a teen. A cream-colored comforter set decorated the bed, that was new, but the room still had all the personality of a motel.

That had been life with Babs. No boy band posters on the walls, no stuffed animals decorating any surfaces, no toys or books or games were to be visible. She was a big believer in a place for everything and everything in its place. Basically, there was never to be any indication of the personality of the resident of the room—ever. I had often wondered if Babs had hoped for generic children. She did not get her wish with me.

I strode over to the closet and slid one of the double doors open. The closet was mostly empty, just some extra pillows and blankets on the shelves, but if a person knew where to look, like the backside of the sliding doors, they could find all of my teenage personality stapled right there.

Moving my carryon into the closet, I stepped inside and turned around. Then I grinned. My Green Day and The Killers posters were exactly where I’d stuck them, as well as my collection of surf brand stickers from Lightning Bolt. I smiled. It was as if I had stepped into a time capsule.

My fingers ran over the frayed edges of the stickers, and the yellowing tape on some of the song lyrics I had written out on notebook paper and taped to the door. Then I saw the strip of photographs taken in a photo booth of me and my then boyfriend Liam Mahony, faded but still there. Just the sight of us smiling at one another, giddy with the infatuation of first love, felt like a punch in the feels I hadn’t braced my feet for.

I stepped out of the closet, slamming the door shut behind me. Em was frowning at me, but I didn’t explain. Liam Mahony was old news, the oldest news. I hadn’t seen him in nine years and had no plans to see him ever again. I couldn’t...not after what I’d done to him.

“You okay?” Em asked. “You look weird.”

Clearly, she had no idea about the adolescent artifacts that existed on the inside of my closet doors; no one did.

“Weird how?” I asked. “Weird as in my mother just rejected me, again, or just weird in general?”

Em twisted her fingers together and I could tell she felt awful, which being her older sister by two years meant I should have alleviated her angst. I was the person who was supposed to comfort her not make her feel lousy. But I wasn’t there yet.

“I’m sorry, Em. I’m bitchy because I’m really tired. Maybe if I nap, I’ll be less of a jerk.”

“You’re not. It’s okay. That’s a good idea.” Em stammered. “You rest. I’ll be downstairs with Mom and Sophie if you need anything.”

“Cool,” I said. Before she could bolt, I stepped forward and hugged her. It was awkward. I went high and she did, too. I adjusted at the same time she did and we ended up in a slanted hug that felt unnatural. I let go first. “It’s really good to see you, Em-cee-squared.”

She smiled at the old nickname; I’d had a million of them when we were kids.

“You, too,” she said. “Everything will be okay now that you’re here.”

My eyebrows went up, and I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by that but she slipped out the door, closing it behind her. As the youngest, Em had lots of practice listening in on the grown-ups, gathering information like a squirrel hoarding acorns and never getting caught. In short, she could be slippery.

I wondered why she thought my being here was going to make anything better when historically speaking, I was the one who typically made everything worse by being at constant odds with Babs.

I climbed onto the bed. The mattress was harder than I remembered. The last time I’d slept in this room had been nine years ago. I didn’t miss it. I told myself this was temporary and as soon as I knew what was going on with Babs, I’d scuttle back to New York with all the speed of a cockroach escaping the light.

I had my own life in New York, and as much as I missed my sisters, I had a full and rich existence that they just weren’t a part of, much like I wasn’t a part of their lives here. Besides, I hated the way Babs made me feel when I came home, like I was a disappointment because I hadn’t lived up to her expectations of me.

It might’ve helped if I’d understood what her expectations were, but Babs was the master at never really telling you how she felt so that you were always left dangling, swinging in mid-air by a thread that you knew she would cut at any moment.

I kicked off my shoes and rolled myself up in the comforter like a caterpillar in a cocoon. A yawn escaped me and I let it stretch my whole face wide, leading the way for the rest of my body to relax. I planned to take a power nap. Twenty minutes of rest and I’d be fine, ready to conquer the world or Babs’s incessant criticism at any rate.

I woke up ten hours later as the sun was setting over the Pacific. Damn it!

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