Page 88 of The Choices I've Made
It didn’t take long to get the laundry started. The hard part was juggling all of it and navigating my way to the washer. I’d never understood why my parents had placed the laundry room all the way on the other side of the house, tucked away behind the kitchen, when it made perfect sense to place it near our personal bedrooms where no one could see it.
Maybe, one day, I’d ask them.
But, for now, I pressed a few buttons on the futuristic machine I’d had shipped in last year, replacing the ancient one my mom had been using since we were kids. This one was quiet and super efficient.
I’d done a small dance in the living room the day it arrived.
Probably something to keep to myself, I thought.
By the time I made it to the room my sister was occupying, I was dead tired. Scooting aside several of her designer clothes, I curled up with one of her pillows.
“Tired from all your lovemaking last night?” She snickered as the steam from the shower wafted in from the attached bathroom.
She pushed the door completely open, and I could smell her fruity shampoo—something she’d been using since high school. It was nice to know my super-sophisticated sister still clung to some of her roots even if it was just shampoo.
“Do you ever miss it here?” I asked, sitting up to lean against the headboard.
“Of course I do,” she said. “I’m not a robot. This is and will forever be my home, but right now, I need to stretch my legs and explore. We’re young only once, Mols. Don’t you ever want to travel? See other places, meet new people?”
“No,” I answered quickly.
Too quickly.
She gave me a hard stare as she took a seat next to me, still wrapped in a towel. Taking her time, she began the process of rubbing lotion over her legs and arms before responding, “There was once a girl I knew. Not nearly as spunky or pretty as her little sister, but wonderful just the same.”
I rolled my eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Or she chose not to.
“This little girl dreamed of faraway places, meeting exotic people, and eating everything under the sun.”
“That girl grew up,” I said. “She got a life.”
Turning her attention toward me, she set the lotion bottle down.
She didn’t have any makeup on, and I could see the scattering of freckles across her face. We’d once lain in bed, counting each other’s freckles, trying to see who had more. I’d won.
“You do,” she replied. “But is it the life you want, Molly?”
My face went blank. “You know I’ve always wanted the inn. It’s been my dream since we were little.”
A soft hand fell on my shoulder. “I know, but you’ve had other dreams, too. Don’t forget those.”
“It’s too late for those,” I said, looking away.
My gaze settled on an old photograph of my parents. I’d done little to this room since they moved out, choosing to stay in the smaller room I’d shared with Millie instead of moving.
Besides, the idea of it just never felt right.
This would always be their room.
It was still filled with their memories, things they’d left behind because of the small size of their new place. Or so they’d said. Maybe they just liked leaving a piece of themselves here.
Honestly, I didn’t mind.
“Did Mom and Dad ever tell you what they did before they had you?”
“No,” I replied. “But I guess I never asked.”
