Page 28 of Unbreakable
“I wanted all of our children,” Dylan snapped. “Wewanted them. All of them.”
It was a simple statement, one that stood up for our little family. But it brought back a pain I hadn’t felt in years.
“Excuse me,” I whispered, wiping my lips on my napkin and backing away from the table.
I didn’t even feel like going to the bathroom, or my bedroom. I wanted the garage. I could leave through the garage, putting this whole scene behind me.
But no matter where I went, nothing could shake the memories Carla had just unearthed, not only criticizing me but purposely provoking me.
Dylan’s voice boomed on the other side of the door, cut by Carla’s interjections.
I appreciated that he was actually standing up for us for once, but I just wanted him. I wanted Dylan to skip the arguments with her and just throw her out. I wanted him to stop makingexcuses for her, to stop rationalizing her behavior when it was anything but rational. I wanted her gone from our lives, never to return. I wanted to stop having to endure gatherings where she inevitably made at least a small remark to cut me down.
The voices calmed, and Dylan didn’t come for me.
I was alone in this.
I reached for a bowl on top of our garage refrigerator, retrieving my precious little secret: a pack of cigarettes I kept for emergencies like these.
THIRTEEN
JEANINE
NOW | NOVEMBER
(selfie with cigarette in hand)
Miss you guys so much
Rachel
(pic of long table with lots of happy faces around it)
We miss you too
I steeledmyself before entering the house again. I’d had a smoke and a long sit on our side porch, sorting out my feelings about the fight.
Dylan still hadn’t come out to check on me when he damn well knew where I was. I had to be the rational one even though I wanted to act like a bucking bronco in my kitchen. Smash all the china. Stomp our wine glasses into shards. Throw them at every adult Sorrento in sight, Dylan included.
“There she is,” Dylan cooed when I came back in. I put on a weak excuse for a smile. “Get some fresh air?”
My lips fell open. Whose side was he on? I wasn’t dignifying that with a response. I’d only feel better when Carla wasn’t a constant thorn in my side.
“Should I get out the pies?” I offered.
“I’ll get ‘em, kiddo,” Phil said, rising as he gestured for me to sit.
Dylan rested his arm across the back of my chair. “I took care of the dishes,” he whispered before kissing my temple.
I flexed a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“Ma has something she wants to say to you,” Dylan said, tucking me closer to him so our chairs touched.
“Oh,” I grimaced.
Carla simpered. “Dylan thinks I’ve been too hard on you, and I’d like to make it up to you?—”
“That won’t be necessary—” I started.
