Page 50 of Snowed In
Suddenly my fake boyfriend is standing next to big glass buildings and posing with friends in sun-scorched parks and slick bars. Random family members pop up now and then, but it’s mainly women I see. All of them beautiful, all of them as well-groomed as he is, with perfect hair and low-key clothing. He stands with his arm around one as they pose on a balcony, in a suit with another at someone’s wedding, then next to a blonde in a beige trench coat, drinking white wine on a Soho street.
Jealousy stabs at me, along with a wriggling hurt that’s just ridiculous, and I try and lift my legs to dislodge my brother.
“Aidan,” I warn.
“I’m just looking.”
“No, you’re not.” I shove him hard enough that he falls off the bed, and he lands with a thump on the floor, his phone forgotten.
“You’re so mean to me,” he grumbles, getting back up. “I had a long flight.”
“Yeah, you smell like you did. And you— Getout.” I whisper-shriek the last word, clutching my blanket as he tries to yank it off me.
He gives it another tug, but it seems to be his final act of being irritating as he straightens with an aggressive boy yawn. “Watch out for that spider.”
“There’s not a—”
I break off as he leans down, patting me on the head like a child. “Glad you came home,” he says, and while the action might be sarcastic, the words are anything but. They’re unusually sincere, especially for him, but before I can respond, he slips out, closing the door gently behind him.
ELEVEN
CHRISTIAN
The next morning, I wake to cold air and a stiff neck, which tells me two things.
One is that I should have brought my expensive pillow from home, and two, the radiator is on the fritz. Everything in this house is always on the fritz. The place is old and drafty, and when I was growing up, if something couldn’t be fixed, it didn’t always mean it would be replaced. It’s not that we were destitute or anything. We had everything we needed, but four kids on a small farmer’s salary did not a trip to Disney World make.
Nor, apparently, a working heating system.
I lie on my old bed in my old room, gazing up at my old ceiling. I slept badly, tossing and turning and thinking of everything and nothing. My apartment building back in Dublin has a twenty-four-hour gym, and usually, when insomnia hits, I exhaust myself there until my body has no choice but to recoup its energy. I’ll have to make do with a simple run here, but I didn’t have time to unpack my stuff yesterday; too busy being fussed over by my mother. It was only her here to greet me. Hannah was out with friends, and Andrew and Molly hadn’t landed yet. My dad was already asleep, but I’d have to see him this morning, something I wasn’t exactly looking forward to, and even knowing I have Megan by my side now, my chest still tightens with that familiar sense of dread.
It doesn’t help that I also badly, desperately want a cigarette.
I used to have one every morning, and waking up is always a trigger. I quickly go through my routine to distract myself, reaching for my glass of water first and then the book on my nightstand, only this time as I do, I’m reminded of how Megan reaches for her knitting, her fingers always moving like she can’t keep still.
The thought of her stays with me, and I’m barely a few pages in when I abandon the paperback, impatient to get a start on our plan. With a brief scroll through my phone, I slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, putting a sock on the door to keep other members of my family from barging in.
The room smells like strawberries, which is my first indication that this won’t be the best shower of my life. If Hannah washed her hair, it means there’s going to be no hot water left, and sure enough it takes a good minute for the trickle to warm up to something just short of icy. But I’m not bothered to wait for the boiler to restart, and so choose violence and brace myself under the freezing stream for as long as I can bear.
Afterward, I get to work unpacking, hanging up my clothes, and hiding the various presents for everyone under the bed.
Including the one I got for Megan. It’s a simple silver chain that cost me an arm and a leg. Jewelry is always a risky gift, but I noticed she wears a few staple pieces and thought it was safest to get something she could simply add to her collection and, in a few years, forget it was even from me.
I place it carefully next to the new phone I got Hannah and, feeling more myself now that everything’s where it should be, I finally seek out my family.
Hannah’s door is open, but my sister is nowhere to be seen. Liam’s old room, the now guest room, is where Andrew and Molly are supposed to be sleeping, and the closed door means they probably still are.
I find Mam in the dining room, sorting through her Christmas card list. In two weeks, the place will be spotless for dinner, but now it’s like Santa’s workshop, with the table littered with boxes and envelopes and recycled wrapping paper from last year, neatly folded and ready to be used again.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asks when I appear.
“No. My room’s freezing.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Fine. My room is very, very cold. I’m going to call someone to take a look at the heating. And this time, if they say to replace the boiler, you’re replacing the boiler.” I’ll pay for it myself if I have to. My parents don’t like when I send money home, but I figure they won’t be able to protest if I just do it without them knowing. “Where are the emigrants?”
“Asleep,” she warns. “And they’re going to stay like that for another two hours at least. Don’t go waking them just because you’re bored.”
