Page 19 of A World Without You
He drags a hand down his face and wipes the water and soap away. “Are you serious?”
I fix a blank expression on my face.
“Are we not going to talk about what he did to Cara last September?” he bites back, and I draw in a breath.
We aren’t going to talk about that because I don’t know about it.
All I know is that after I was told I was a selfish, crazy bitch for throwing away what Colin and I had for a stupid mountain man in Central Washington, Cody was the one from Colin’s family who called. He didn’t judge. He just asked me questions and said he would always love me...you know, in that weird way siblings who actually like each other do.
I don’t want to make excuses for Cody. But I loved him like a little brother, and in this life, I still get to.
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WHEN WE PULL UP TOColin’s parents’ house on Lake Washington, my anxiety kicks in. I try to appear composed and calm, absorbing the quietness of the Thanksgiving holiday, but my stomach is swimming with sharks and my heart is palpitating. We roll up the brick semi-circle driveway in Colin’s Mercedes, and he puts it in park. I swallow hard, steeling myself for this interaction, knowing the hatred they have reserved just for me exists in a different world, not here.
Just as I reach to open the passenger door, Colin stops me with a hand on my knee.
“Hey,” he says softly, running his thumb along my thigh. I know he can sense my discomfort and I love that he can read me even after all this time. “They’re fine about the wedding.”
I tilt my chin up, surprised by this comment.What wedding?I want to say—should say—but not if I don’t want to get committed to the psych ward in this life. I swallow.
“They are?” I release the two words with a prayer that it will unveil some clues about whose wedding they’re ‘fine’ about.
“Yeah, of course,” he answers, the right side of his mouth curling into a crooked grin. “They can’t force us to do anything we don’t want to do.”
I’ve heard his mother, Miranda, say that before. It was laced with repulsion and anger.
Well, I guess I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but on the day you wake up and realize you’ve made a terrible decision, know that I will have no sympathy for you.
I let go of a shaky breath. I don’t deserve her sympathy, and I hate that she was right. Even still, she’s said it again, and it has to do with us and our wedding. I want to press and ask more questions, but I play the part and enjoy the day with the family that seems to no longer hate me.
We reach the arched oak doors and Colin raps on the brass door knocker three times. His father, Lloyd, opens the door. He’s wearing a rust-colored sweater with a navy collared shirt underneath and khakis. He looks like the typical white rich man living on Lake Washington but I know this is just what Miranda laid out for him.
He flashes a million-dollar Lloyd Hamlin smile. “Hey-oh! Happy Thanksgiving!”
Miranda steps closely behind wearing a simple olive green dress and nude heels. Her hairstyle hasn’t changed in over twenty years, so it’s no surprise she looks exactly the same as I remember her. We step over the threshold and I step into a memory. The smell of their house, the laundry detergent, and especially Miranda’s Chanel No. 5 perfume makes tears rush to my eyes in a full-on sprint, and I disguise them with a long overdue hug in their arms.
“Oh, you two look dashing!” Miranda says, rocking me side to side. I’m yet to let her go and I realize she’s holding me tightly too.
“Thanks, Mom,” Colin finally says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Well, come on in, you guys! Cody will be here any minute,” Lloyd says, and I ignore Colin’s wince as excitement blooms in my chest.
According to the date on my phone, I haven’t gone back in time in these dreams. And the minor changes to their home seem to also confirm that. New countertops and hardware in the kitchen. A seventy-two-inch flat screen in the family room. The new construction of homes down the street. But it’s still distinctly them.
“What can I get you to drink?” Miranda asks. “I just got a case from Bertelsen last week and their new cab is to die for! Want a glass?”
“That sounds lovely,” I answer as Colin removes my coat and hangs it in the closet.
The rich wood floors run down the entry and up the curved staircase to the landing upstairs. The wrought-iron railing feels both out of date and luxurious as my eyes take in the details of this home. Colin’s family was always well off, and they bordered on pretentious, but they also knew how to love each other deeply, prioritizing each member of this family above anyone else.
They’re an awful family to know when you’re bitter and have been wrung out by life and poor choices. Unfortunately, I know that all too well.
I lace my fingers in Colin’s as we make our way to the back of the house to the kitchen. I find strange comfort in his touch, and a part of me worries it’s false. This is all in my imagination. This version of Colin isn’t real. This version of the house, Miranda, Lloyd, and Cody walking through the front door with a loud greeting isn’t real.
And yet, when Cody gets closer, there’s something glinting in his eyes that’s strangely authentic, telling me there’s no way this isn’t real. When I dream, I can’t run or scream. I can’t even think. Dreams happentoyou. But this is just...happening.
“Hey, Cody,” I say as he hugs me.
