Page 8 of Say Something
“Thanks, Mike.”
“No problem.”
I told him goodbye, disconnected the call, and tucked my phone back in my pocket. For the first time since walking in the house and seeing the damage, I felt like everything was going to be okay. I took one final look around the small, open floor plan and smiled, imagining its potential.
Things would come together.
They just had to. There wasn’t any other option.
***
“I really liked that shade of brown you picked out for your bedroom,” Mom said as she stirred the sugar into her iced tea. She always used to complain that restaurants couldn’t get the sugar to tea ratio quite right, and it appeared she still held that opinion. At least she developed her own solution to the problem.
“I love the color,” I responded, leaving out the fact it was the exact same color Danny and I had painted the bedroom of our townhome in the city. I wasn’t happy to admit it, but I’d never had them out to visit the townhouse, so she wouldn’t know how the place was decorated. Life had been too busy with college and work; it was just easier for Danny and me to go home for holidays and quick visits. Not to mention that things went south so quickly after we’d moved in, and I’d begun to distance myself from everyone. The only person who would recognize the color was Danny…and he’d never see it. It wasn’t like he had any reason to be in my bedroom.
“I can’t wait to see what Michael does with the place,” she said excitedly before biting into her grilled chicken wrap.
“There’s not much to do,” I said to her. “Just the ceiling, walls, windows, and flooring.” You know…just everywhere you looked. Our eyes met, and we burst out laughing at the absurdity of my statement. There wassomuch to do.
“You’d be surprised what a difference just those things will make,” Mom said after we’d composed ourselves.
I nodded, taking a forkful of my Caesar salad. She was right. The interior of the house looked like an abandoned shack. It smelled like one, too. But once the aesthetics were taken care of, the cottage would look like a whole new place. Not to mention what a difference adding splashes of color would make.
As we continued to eat in silence, I realized how much I’d missed The Diner. Yes, that’s what it was called:TheDiner. It was the only diner in Oak River, so it was suitably named. We—Danny and I—used to come here after school on the days we didn’t have practice or some club meeting. In fact, the last time I was here was the last day of our final summer in Oak River before we left for college—almost twelve years ago. I’d gotten a strawberry milkshake and he had a root beer float. Everything about the place was comfortable and homey, from the rich and delicious comfort foods to the super sweet desserts.
“How long do you think the repairs will take?” I asked my mom, remembering they had some renovations done to their kitchen a few years back.
“I guess it depends on when he could fit you in and if he has to order the materials. I don’t think the work itself will take that long. The cottage isn’t that big.”
I nodded. That was good. As happy as I was to be spending time with my family, I’d been living on my own for so long that I really liked having my own space. Not to mention, the movers were coming soon. I didn’t want to have to postpone the delivery of my stuff. Not that it was much, I could probably stow it in my parents’ basement or garage.
“You know you’re more than welcome to stay with us as long as you need,” Mom said, reading my mind.
I smiled at her from across the booth. “I know, Mom. I appreciate that. I was just thinking about the movers. They’ll be here next week and I’m hoping I have a place for them to deliver my stuff.”
“Just talk to Michael, I’m sure he’ll do everything he can to get it done on time for you.”
I hoped that was the case, but I wasn’t so sure. Things between Michael and I felt off, but I didn’t dare tell my mother that. She would have called him up right then and there and tried to fix whatever was broken, and I wasn’t entirely sure anything was broken. I just didn’t really know my brother anymore. He was in high school when I left, and now he was all grown up. We used to talk on the phone a lot, but that stopped when everything in my life started to go wrong.
“I will. I didn’t realize his company did residential work.” At dinner, he had said his company did commercial construction, which is why I hadn’t even thought to ask him for help with the house. That and the fact that I figured he was an inspector or something, not an actual construction laborer.
“They don’t, but you’re his sister.”
“I haven’t been much of one,” I said before I could stop myself.
Mom looked at me with a frown on her face. “Your brothers and sister don’t feel that way, you know? None of us do. We know you went through some really difficult things and that you needed time.”
“I completely blocked all of you out, Mom. On purpose.” I added quietly, looking out the large, plate glass window of the diner. I avoided eye contact, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. There was always pity in people’s eyes when they’d learned of my struggles. Pity and discomfort because people rarely knew what to say. It was as though infertility was the equivalent to leprosy for some people. Not that I ever really wanted to talk about it, but maybe I would have if the reception wasn’t so avoidant.
A familiar blue pickup truck moved down Main Street, and my heart started racing.
No, it couldn’t be. Not today. I wasn’t ready to see him. Not this soon.
The truck kept going, passing the diner, and I sighed in relief.
My mom reached across the table and took my hand. I pulled my gaze from the window and looked into her dark, understanding eyes, so like my own. “We forgive you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, offering a smile. “I’m sorry I’m not much fun today.”
