Page 84 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“What on earth happened to you? Where did you get those clothes?”

I snorted. Only my mother would ignore my red-rimmed eyes and mascara streaks to comment on my off-brand outfit. “Target and a variety of gift shops throughout the southern states, Mother.”

Her ageless face twisted in a sort of bored confusion. “Well, thank God you’re home safe, darling. Why don’t you go run a bath, hmm? You can take care of your things later.”

It was actually quite the concession from her, so I took it. I padded in my socks to the winding oak staircase that led to my wing, but not before my father appeared in the archway from his study. “Bridget.”

My puffy eyes turned to slits. “Dad.”

“After you’ve gotten yourself together, we should have a chat.”

“About what? How you’ve ruined my life?”

His laugh was a papercut on top of a gaping wound. “You can’t honestly think I would let you go through with this.”

“Yes, I honestly thought I had a say in my own life.”

“I did it for your own good, Bridget. First Sean, now this? I won’t let you continue to be careless with your future. And I certainly won’t let you use your inheritance to do it.” He fiddled with the cuff of his dress shirt, not even having the decency to look ashamed. “It’s my one job as your parent to steer you around these pitfalls.”

“Funny, I thought your one job as a parent was to love me.” His nostrils flared and I turned for the stairs, my heart trailing behind me in a puddle.

Willow told me not to bring anything, but I knew my mother would disown me if I showed up to someone’s house empty-handed. Even if that someone was family. I balanced a bottle of wine and a box of Alex’s favorite pie and knocked on the cheery peach-colored front door that still had a balsam wreath left over from Christmas, the needles burnt orange on the tips.

Willow appeared on the stairs, barefoot in a flowy, hippy-style dress, her blondish hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. I watched her face break into a smile through the side-light and I breathed a little easier. She opened the door and pulled me into a hug.

“Nick.” She pushed my shoulders out, inspecting me like I was a child who’d grown a few inches since we last saw each other. “It’s so good to see you.”

It was good to see her too. Though I’d come here beating myself up for the way I’d made her chase me down for updates the last few days, her expression told me she hadn’t given it another thought.

“Come in.” She took the pie from me and I followed her up the short steps to the main floor. Alex and Willow had bought this split-level the same way I’d bought my duplex and Tom and Drew had bought theirs. He’d used the Callaway and Sons buying power, flipped it, and sold it to himself for cost.

When Alex picked this place out, the walls had been covered in seventies-style pine paneling. The dining room had an orange shag carpet. I’d been impressed when, in the first year, Willow had completely transformed it. Now the walls were a quiet stone color with tasteful abstract art hung around the room in between family photos. The gray suede couch in front of the fireplace had been Alex’s since college. Willow had covered it in a hundred fluffy pillows.

I hadn’t been in this house since Alex died, shitty brother-in-law that I was, and every beer-fueled heart to heart he and I had ever shared on that couch came rushing at me. I knew if I sat there it would be like sitting next to his ghost, so I put the wine on the kitchen island and pulled out a stool.

Willow searched a drawer, coming up with a corkscrew, and sat down across from me. “How are you?” she asked, turning the cork and popping it. “You look thin.”

I couldn’t imagine that was true after almost a week on the road living off of takeout and airport food. Rummy Bears and strawberry gum. But then, I couldn’t actually remember having eaten a real meal since I got back.

“I’m . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say “Fine”.Devastated, losing my mind about work, wishing for a wall to drive my fist into.“The same.”

“I was afraid of that.” She pushed a glass of chardonnay my way and I put my fingers around the stem like I intended to enjoy it.

This might have been a bad idea. The last thing Willow needed was me bringing my sulking here, especially if the hole in my chest where my heart used to be was going to be so glaringly obvious.

“I have your picture,” I said, changing the subject.

Willow’s face split into a slow smile. “It feels weird, right? Being done?” She sipped her wine. “I wonder if he considered that, that it would be another goodbye.”

I wondered if he considered any of it. Alex wasn’t known for his well thought-out plans. But I’d made my peace with that. He and I had it out one last time on that train and then I let it go. Or rather, a tiny woman with rainbow hair had pried it out of my clenched fist. And changed my whole life by doing it.

“Anyway, I’ll send it to your email so you can print it in whatever size you need. Thanks, by the way. My mother will love it . . .” My voice wanted to crack so I trailed off.

Willow smiled knowingly. “Your family will always be my family, Nick.You’llalways be my family.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say. How was she so much better at this than me? I should be here taking care of her, but instead I was barely holding it together and she knew it. I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating. The truth was I was stumbling without Brit. I’d let myself draw too much strength from her, have a little taste of leaning on someone else, and now she was gone.

This was worse than right after Alex died. I’d been the same tired, cranky shell of myself then too, but at least I’d known there was nothing I could do but bear it. Death was final. You could wish and pray and scream about how unfair it was until you were blue in the face, but when it came down to it, there was a freedom in knowing you had no power to change it. You had to move on because you had no choice.

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