Page 79 of The Ex Project
I nod and head downstairs. I take a seat at Claire’s kitchen table, the late evening sun streaming in through the wooden shutters in her breakfast nook. My mind is spinning with the events of the last few days. The gallery opening, the opportunity I turned down, Hudson’s concern I’m giving it up for him.
The thing is, I’m not giving it up for him. I’m giving itup for me. Because if I’ve learned anything over the last few weeks of being back in Heartwood, it’s that success and accolades are not the be-all, end-all. I want to challenge the part of myself that is desperate for external validation—the part of me that still feels like the little girl, trying to earn her parents’ approval and always failing. It wasn’t her fault I ended up this way, but it’s my choice now whether I continue down that path.
It isn’t a pretty one. The constant panic attacks, the unceasing stress. It’s not healthy, and I need to reevaluate what my priorities are. I can either go back to the city, find another engineering job, please my parents, and be miserable. Or, I can stay in Heartwood. Find a job that pays enough to cover the bills while I create and pursue my art. But most importantly, I could be with Hudson, the only person in my life who supports whatever dream I want to dream, and who encourages me to go after it.
Claire comes down into the kitchen a moment later, pulling me out of my spiralling thoughts. She walks over to the counter around the massive island, which is probably bigger than Hudson’s whole kitchen, and flicks on an electric kettle.
“Tea?” she asks, and I nod. Something warm would be great for my nerves right now. “The IV fluids are running and I gave him some anti-nausea meds, so I’ll go check in on him in a bit. Right now, he can sleep.”
I swallow, a thick lump of hurt pride sticking in my throat.
“Thanks, Claire.” I can’t look at her. Coming here has taken the last crumbs of dignity I have left after this weekend.Claire pours steaming water into two mugs and brings them over to the kitchen table.
“Of course, that’s what I’m here for. Contrary to what you might believe, I do care about you,” she says, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. I blow on the hot, fragrant herbal tea.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I say, still not daring to look up at my sister, though I can feel her intense Miller stare on me.
“Listen, Wren. I have always tried my best to make sure you were okay. But for some reason, all you cared about was Mom and Dad’s approval.”
“Didn’t you? Look at you, you’re like their trophy child.” I gesture around at the massive kitchen we’re sitting in, the superfluous house she lives in and walks around in like she’s a fucking Kardashian.
“Yeah, you’re right. I did everything they wanted. I got a job, married a man they approved of, I have the life they envisioned for me. Right down to how I get my fucking hair cut.” She plays with the ends of her sleek, chestnut bob brushing her collar bones, straight and blunt like Mom’s. “And you know what? I’m miserable. The only good thing in my life is these medical trips, so I don’t feel like I’m taking this disgusting amount of privilege for granted.”
I’m stunned by her words. I open and close my mouth like one of those mounted fish that sings a terrible song, but no sound comes out. I’ve always lived with the assumptionClaire had her life figured out. I never would have guessed this isn’t what she wants.
“Don’t say anything to Mom and Dad, but Kevin’s been cheating on me,” Claire says, looking down into her lap. When she looks back up at me, she seems almost fragile, like the little girl I grew up with. “When I’m off on an assignment with Doctors Without Borders, he brings women to the house. I found a hairbrush one of them left in my bathroom. And someone else’s lace thong under the bed.” She shakes her head as if she’s still trying to understand how she’s ended up here herself. “He’s probably sleeping with someone right now while he’s on his golf trip. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad worship the ground he walks on.”
“God, Claire,” I say, still unable to form a coherent thought about what she’s confided. “I had no idea.”
“Well, I don’t exactly showcase it.” She shifts in her seat, uncrossing her legs and then crossing them again in the opposite direction. The same habit I have when I’m feeling uncomfortable. “The only reason I’m telling you is because you should know I did everything I could to protect you from my fate. I never wanted you to end up like me. I guess I hoped if I did everything right, then Mom and Dad would go easy on you.” Claire takes a sip of her tea and then stares into her mug. “I loved that you were your own person, I envied you.”
Claire? Envious of me?
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not. I really did envy you. You marched to the beat of your own drum, at least when you were younger. Before you were somehow brainwashed into thinking you needed togo into engineering. You were carefree, artistic, sensitive. I miss that version of my little sister,” Claire says wistfully, her eyes going shiny. What she’s saying is genuine, but there’s a huge disconnect between what she’s saying now, and what happened after I left for school.
“Then why did you convince Hudson to dump me?” I say, my voice cracking, because thinking back to the pain she caused me reminds me my relationship with Hudson is still perilous.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, Claire,” I warn. “I’d rather you were honest about it and owned up to it at this point. Hudson told me what you said to him. Before I came home for Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t even remember that.” She looks genuinely shocked and surprised, confused even. She’s a good actress.
“No? You don’t remember ruining the one good thing I had in my life? I find it hard to believe.” I scoff. “Hudson said you made it very clear he should push me to follow my dreams, that I should be moving forward and not backward. That I should get everything I want in life. He said you helped him to ‘see the reality’ that he was only going to hold me back.”
“Oh my God.” Claire’s face pales. “Wren, I had no idea that’s how he took it. I swear. I’m such an idiot.” I didn’t think she’d resort to playing dumb, but here we are. I glare at her, trying to read her expression.
“How was he supposed to take it?” I say, my tone indicating it’s a rhetorical question, that anyone would interpretwhat she said the way Hudson did, but she gives me an answer regardless.
“I meant I wanted him to remind you of what truly made you happy. I wanted him to show you how miserable you were in school, and I hoped you would see that’s not where you were supposed to be.” Claire shakes her head, her eyes darting around the table in front of her. It’s as if a thousand tiny puzzle pieces slot into place. “When I said move forward, I meant?—”
“Not doing whatever Mom and Dad wanted me to do,” I finish. Claire looks up at me now, her eyes lined with silver.
“I’m so sorry, Wren. When you didn’t come home, I thought that had been your choice. That you ended things, and I figured you had made your decision.” And with those words, it dawns on me that Claire is the only person besides Hudson who’s been on my side all along. She saw what was going on and respected my choices, treated me like I didn’t need to have my fucking hand held all the time.
“Well, I didn’t. I didn’t get a say in the matter at all. I got thoroughly dumped.” I push a breath out between pursed lips.
