Page 16 of Hot Puck
“There’s too much distraction down here. Plus, I’m going to search your pantry and see what I can put together for dinner and I’m bound to make noise doing it.”
I’m not sure why that surprises me, but I can’t keep the shock from my voice when I say, “You’re making dinner?”
In answer she plants her hands on my shoulders and spins me around before saying to the back of my head, “Yes. After I make you a sandwich or something for lunch. Now go, I’ll be here taking care of anything that needs taking care of.”
I step forward when she gives a little push. I could easily have stopped myself but I’m raw and weak from crying and the grief weighing me down, and the thought of not being the one in charge for a even a few minutes, never mind not having to worry about cooking dinner, is too much to resist.
My feet drag as I make my way out of the kitchen and just before I leave the room, I glance over my shoulder. Natalie is where I left her, arms crossed over her chest, a stern do-as-I-say-or-else look on her face.
And maybe it’s the bone-weariness I’m feeling after purging my grief, or maybe it’s the no-nonsense glint in her gaze, whatever it is, I do as told, and head upstairs to the bathroom.
Once behind the closed door it doesn’t take me long to strip and step under the shower because the more I think about soothing my aching body with hot water, the more I want to do it.
The first blast of water is cold, but as it warms, the spray does its job and washes away some of the tension holding my body tight. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back and let the calming sensation soak through my skin to my bones.
Warm and relaxed, I lean against the wall and angle the showerhead my way. I don’t bother with soap. I did that when I showered earlier today.
But this isn’t about getting clean. Not in the physical sense. It’s about clearing my head, washing away the stress of the day.
I didn’t think my decision to step back from the business was weighing on my mind, but the longer the call went on the more I realized how much I hated having to step back.
Not because I want to be in charge of my parents’ life work, but because Ishouldbe in charge of it. I’m the only one capable of running the company Mom and Dad started before I was born.
The twins are too young, and Candace isn’t even a factor. It’s me. All of it falls on me.
And I know I’ve chosen to take on the girls. I could have done what it seems everyone expected, and let them go, except that was never going to happen.
I’d have to be dead for all of us not to stay together.
Even if our parents hadn’t left us with a profitable business and a mortgage free house, along with money in the bank from several life-insurance payouts, I wouldn’t let my sisters go.
I can’t imagine living without them and the loss of our parents only makes me more determined to keep us together.
The water flowing over me begins to cool and I quickly switch it off. I can’t use all the hot water. Candace will need a bath later and no doubt the twins will want to shower as soon as they get home.
I know Natalie told me not to worry about anything but getting out of the shower before the hot water runs out is something I had to do as a teen. Back then Mom would come to the bottom of the stairs and yell I’d been in here long enough.
The memory doesn’t cut as deep as I expect. Instead, it brings a smile to my face and fills me with warmth.
I’m not being biased when I say I had the best parents because I genuinely believe it to be true. I’ve had enough friends over the years tell me they thought they were great too.
On the heels of the warm memories, sadness swamps me. No one will ever say that to me again. No one will tell Cass or Stell their parents’ rock. And Candace…
Fuck!
She’ll never know their love. Never experience what it’s like to be loved and cared for by them. All she’ll have is the second-hand stories we tell her.
I have to find a way to bring those stories to life. To give Candace a vivid picture of what they were like, how they would have doted on her.
Stepping out of the shower I grab a towel and scrub it over my hair before taking care of the rest of me. I’m still damp when I wrap it around my hips and head to my room for clean clothes.
Pulling sweatpants out of a drawer, I tug them on without underwear. I don’t have the energy to go out to the basket in the hall and search through the clean clothes.
One more thing I haven’t gotten to yet. At least the clothes are clean. And dry. Last time I was out of underwear they were all in the washer with the rest of our dirty clothes.
I shake my head. Forgetting to put the washing on is something I’m really good at. It’s why the twins have taken over washing our clothes. Although they refuse to fold and put them away. Even their own.
That job falls to me. And just thinking about having to do it makes my shoulders slump. I can’t bring myself to go out there for underwear; there’s no way I’m going to fold a basket full of clothes.
