Page 72 of Reconciling With the Rival

“That sounds good. I’ll boil some water and get started on the sauce.”

“Wonderful.” I smile as my dad and I start shuffling around one another as we cook. I think he’s the only person who doesn't piss me off while in the kitchen with me. We’ve been doing this since I was a teenager—cooking alongside one another—and it’s like we have our own unspoken dance when we’re in here. I love it.

After a few minutes of working quietly together, he speaks up. “Lizzie told me your mother is back.”

I should have known this was going to come up. “I heard.”

“I know how she feels, but how do you feel, El?”

“Jury’s still out.” I was fully prepared to say no, but what Paige and I talked about in the bathroom changed my view. I don’t know if I could do something in-person with her yet, but maybe a phone call or something.

When I say that in my head, it reminds me of all the times she could have called and didn't. I’m not going to blame myself for not reaching out, because I physically couldn't—she didn't leave her phone number when she walked out.

The phone works both ways. I’m sure if she wanted to, she could have found it somewhere. She sure as hell was able to remember our address after all these years, so she probably could remember a fucking phone number.

“You don't have to make a decision right now, Ella.”

But I do—to an extent. My sister is pissed it wasn't as easy for me to say yes to her offer of seeing our mother again. I don’t know how much longer I can handle the silent treatment.

“I don't know, Dad,” I say as I flip a burger.

“I get it, bug. You were older than Lizzie. You understood what was happening at that age more than most.”

I’ve heard that all my life. How mature I was for my age. How I always take care of others before myself. It was practically on every report card I got in school. And in every friend group, I’m the mom friend.

I don’t mind being that for everyone else, but sometimes, I want to be able to need someone without the guilt pouring into my lungs. I don’t know how toneedother people. I’ve always relied on myself first and foremost in any situation. I’m independent as fuck, and even just the thought of settling down and being with someone for the rest of my life terrifies the fuck out of me.

But it sounds nice—loving someone forever, creating new memories and being able to reminisce on them decades in thefuture. All of my friends have found that kind of love, all except Amelia and me.

But Ames isn't around anymore, so it’s only me who’s alone.

Well, not alone, just not in love. As long as the girls and Grant exist, I won’t be alone. But it's different now—the group dynamic. It has changed and shifted in so many ways over the years.

“Ella?”

I shake out of my haze. “Sorry, what?”

“Can you go get your sister? Everything’s almost ready.”

I nod before I turn the burner off and head down the hall. I hear music playing softly as I knock.

“Come in,” she says. When she notices it’s me, her face drops.Wonderful.

“Dinner is almost ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in a second.”

I start to leave, but I stop myself. “Look, I don't want dinner to be uncomfortable.” I lean against her door frame, needing support to keep me upright. “With Mom coming back, I’ve been worried about the three of us.”

“Sure, Ella.”

“I’m serious, Lizzie.”

“Why are you always so worried about everything? We’re humans too. We can make our own decisions.”

I know that, but it doesn't stop the instinct to worry at the slightest change. Our mother coming back feels like we’re the ocean floor and she’s the anchor slamming down on us. “I know, sis, but I can’t just turn it off. It’s how I’m wired. It’s how I’ve been since she left the first time. I can’t help but try and protect you from things I think might hurt you.”

Her eyes soften, and I think she’s starting to understand my point of view, even if only a little. “But why can’t you be a little more open to it? For me?”

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