Page 57 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Piper has lots of questions about how Britta got involved with the homeless community. I’m familiar with the story, butI’m more interested in Piper’s thoughts than the thirty-two men fighting over a football. Probably because my team is losing.
“Oy, mates!” Rhys yells over his shoulder toward us—the three women talking and me lurking on the other side of the island. “Take a seat and watch the match or go somewhere else to yap.” He slides over to create more room on the couch.
“We’ve talked about this behavior, Rhys,” Stella calls back. “Remember your manners. You’re not the most important person here.”
The room breaks out into laughter. All but Rhys, whose glare only makes us laugh harder. It’s not a teasing glare, and I’m reminded how he and Stella have never quite got on. She’s as unimpressed with his celebrity as most people are impressed by it, and she doesn’t hesitate to remind him.
“You want the seat next to the beast, Piper?” Stella teases, gesturing toward the empty place next to Rhys.
Without thinking, I step between Piper and the couch, blocking her way even though she’s made no move to sit next to Rhys. “Let me make you a plate of food. You’ll love this sushi. What’s your favorite? I reckon I ordered every roll.”
Even my muddled brain picks up on the surprise on Piper’s face. But, like an idiot, I grab a plate and begin loading it.
“I said I don’t like sushi. Remember?” she asks slowly.
“Oh, yeah.” I set down the plate.
Britta sends me a questioning look while Stella smirks, as if she knows what’s going on in my head. Which is bonkers, really, ’cause all I’m thinking is it’d be nice to chat with Piper too—if Britta and Stella would give her a second to breathe.
We didn’t really get to finish our conversation this morning, and a lot has happened since then. If Dad cut her off like she said he did, she’ll understand my predicament. She’s the only person here who’s been through the same thing. She’s got the experience to talk me through it.
I insert myself between Piper and Britta and tug Piper away from Britta. “Can we chat for a second?”
She ticks her head to the side with a question and studies me before nodding once. I lead her down the hallway toward the gym. We’re almost there when she asks, “Is this about the deed?”
“Not entirely.” I shake my head as we walk into the room, and I shut the door behind us. “I’ve been wondering about what you said this morning…about Dad. He didn’t pay for any of your college?”
Her brows knit together. With a sigh, she sits on a nearby weight bench. “I gotnofinancial support. And because he monitored Mom’s spending, she wasn’t able to help me out, either.”
I rub at a knot on my neck. Now that I’ve got her alone, I’m not sure how to talk to her in a way that won’t prompt her to suit up for battle. “He told me you and Cynthia cost him tens of thousands of dollars every month.”
Piper responds with a long stare.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you.” I put my hands up in surrender, so she knows I don’t want to fight. “I’m just trying to put all the pieces together, including why you’re so against my idea for your mum to get a cash settlement instead of this house.”
Piper grips the weight bench and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what Malcolm spent for Mom’s expenses, only that he paid bills and invoices, and didn’t give her money to use on her own. As for me, I worked to pay my living expenses and took out student loans to pay for school.” She points in the direction of the garage. “The kind of money I owe could buy two of your Mercedes Sprinters.”
She pauses to let that sink in, then looks me square in the eye. “Malcolm didn’t give me anything, and I don’t want anythingfrom him ever again. But Idon’twant Mom left with nothing. Without this house, she will be.”
I open my mouth to defend Dad, then remember how he treated me on the phone this afternoon. He barely let me talk. He didn’t listen.
I reckon I’ve been fooling myself that it hasn’t always been that way with him. That’s all on me. Frankie and Dex have warned me often enough about Dad manipulating me that I should have opened my eyes long ago.
Now that I have, I don’t want to turn around and do the same thing to Piper. She deserves to be heard. I point to the only spot to sit, right next to her on the bench.
She nods her permission.
There’s barely room for both of us. She’s wearing a patterned, flowy skirt that hits her at the shins. Her soft yellow shirt hangs off one shoulder, showing off her lightly bronzed skin. Our arms touch, and I’m disappointed when she moves hers away.
She smells faintly citrusy. Like the trees in Mum’s backyard in Aus. Last time I was there—years ago—I helped Mum pick oranges and lemons. Then we peeled and ate oranges, still warm from the sun, right there, smiling at each other as if we hadn’t spent years continents apart.
I’m tempted to share that memory with Piper, but I reckon that’s an alcohol-driven impulse, so I tuck it away for another day.
Then I lean my elbows on my knees and face her. “I meant it this morning when I said I don’t want to be like Dad.” My conversation with him has driven that home even more clearly than when I said the words.
But that doesn’t change the fact that the cash settlement I’m proposing will be better for CynthiaandPiper, so I return to that point. “I know he’s hurt you and Cynthia, but I’m surprised you distrust him so much that you won’t consider the idea of hersettling for anything besides this house. You’ve seen the good qualities Dad has.”
My head’s still fuzzy. I haven’t explained my thoughts clearly, but I’m not sure I’d be able to even if I were stone cold sober. Everything I’m feeling is too raw and new.
