Chapter 23

“I’d like to register for a library card,” I tell the small, cardigan-clad woman behind the desk. It’s ninety degrees and rising outside, but the air conditioning works perfectly in the Plainfield Public Library.

“Sure,” she says and hands me a few papers to fill out.

As her fingers clack away on the computer keyboard, the smell of all the books restores my weary soul, while the barely audible sounds—the padding of feet, the turning of papers, the slight crick of a book spine—are a lullaby. I haven’t been to a library since I lived in Brooklyn, but being here feels a little bit like coming home.

I hand the woman the papers, and she hands me the card. “My name’s Trisha, if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I say, storing the card in my wallet before exploring the stacks.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past month—about my brother, my parents, and Vince. It’s been six months since Raymond died, and each of those days has been a surprise. Sometimes the grief is so bad, I sit on the shower floor crying. Other days, it’s as if Raymond never existed; there is no piece of him left to remember, my day too busy to form a picture of him in my mind. Some days my mom does well; some days she doesn’t. Some days my father comes home, and some he doesn’t.

It’s exhausting, living in a perpetual state of the unknown, and it’s becoming more and more obvious to me that Vince was right. Of course.

I have to help myself before I can help anybody else, and that means I need to figure out what I want for myself.

So, I’m here, browsing for a book, something I want. Something I need.

When I can’t decide between the historical fiction about Arthur and Guinevere, the thriller about the woman who takes revenge on her nasty husband, or the contemporary romance with the cartoon cover, I pile up all three under my arm and find a table to fulfill the next step in my plan. I’ve been out of college for six years, but I pull up my email to write Professor Christine Row. With my original dream of being some sort of entertainment journalist—writing snappy pieces on pop culture, reviewing music, or political satire—in the metaphorical shitter, I’ve been wondering if maybe I should write a book.

I haven’t even fully fleshed out the idea, but I ask Professor Row what she thinks. We’d kept in touch for a year or so after I graduated because she always had great advice, and if there is one thing I need now, it’s advice. I fill her in on my life and ask her if she’d be able to direct me in any direction of a job opening or internship. I’d always been opposed to something unpaid—because bills—but if I’m going to shoot my shot, it’s got to be now. Unpaid or not.

Hitting send is gratifying. It’s a relief to finally give in to the voice in the back of my head, the one that sounds a lot like Vince.

My heart sinks a little. We haven’t spoken much since the Fourth of July. He said he’s been working on his house a lot, and I have no reason to think he’s lying. Besides, with the summer winding down, I’m trying to get in as many shifts at Sassie’s as I can before patrons start burrowing away again for the winter. We agreed to be friends, at my request, so that has to be that.

And it’s fine.

I’m fine.

Even as my hand reflexively reaches for my phone to text him.

But I’m fine, so I stop myself.

It’s not fair to him to keep him on the hook when I know I’ll never be enough for him. What I have to offer is nothing in comparison to what he gives me.

I have to focus on me, figure my life out first. Then maybe, down the road, I’ll be the type of woman who’ll be able to take care of him the way he has taken care of me.

I spend the rest of the hour researching writing groups and resources until I need to leave to pick up my mom and grandparents. It’s Lucy and Lara’s fifth birthday, and Shayna’s throwing a big party at their house. I’m really not looking forward to it, for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is my brother won’t be there.

The stifling heat of August invades my car. I check on Nana and Pop in the rearview mirror to make sure they’re all right, then hit the dash twice. Cool air spits through the vents in stops and starts. Normally, I wouldn’t care that my jalopy of a car originally belonged to Fred Flintstone, but with my mom and grandparents in it, I worry somebody will pass out from heat exhaustion. “Everybody good?”

My grandparents don’t drive much anymore, and my brother was always their chauffeur. Now, it’s up to me since Aunt Joanie can’t make it to the party today. So far, the car ride has been silent.

“Huh?” Pop yells behind me.

“Are you too hot?” I ask loudly, eyeing him in the rearview.

“No, I’m not hungry,” he says, and I hide my smile, pressing on the gas harder.

“Dad,” my mom says, shifting in the passenger seat. “Are you hot? Hot?” She nearly screams the word.

Mom has been in a relatively good mood lately. I think it’s because of the sun. I took the curtains down in her bedroom and never put them back up, crafting a story about accidentally bleaching them in the wash. She only told me to be more careful next time and never brought it up again.

“Hot?” Pop says, his hand cupped around his ear. “Yeah, I’m hot.”

Mom uselessly flicks at the vent in front of her. “You need a new car.”

“That would be nice,” I say.

“Is your father coming today?”

I find it odd she’s asking me this question, as if I talk to him more than she does. “I guess so. I told him about it.”

She stares down at the two pink envelopes in her hands. “I can’t believe Raymond isn’t here for their birthday.”

“I know,” I mumble, the two words insufficient for the dark cloud hanging over what should be a happy time. I can already picture their pouts and big eyes because their daddy isn’t there to sing to them.

When we arrive at Shayna’s—and Raymond’s—house, I park in the driveway, the same spot where Ray would park his big SUV, and help Pop and then Nana out of the back seat to lead them up to the front door. Pink and silver Mylar balloons are tied on the railing, and I have to knock them out of the way to open the front door, allowing my grandparents and Mom ahead of me.

Before I’m even inside, the decibel of screeching makes me wince, and I leap out of the way of three little girls in costumes running in a circle around the house. There’s a princess, a firefighter, and an alligator, I think. I don’t recognize any of them.

Shayna’s in the kitchen with two women when we walk back there, and she hugs my mom and grandparents, then gestures to the twins in the backyard, where they’re jumping on a trampoline. They all coo at the adorableness of their matching outfits and bouncing curls before heading outside to the pandemonium. None of it looks fun to me. Kids zooming in all directions, pink decorations covering every inch of the place, and the sounds? Even Pop can hear them.

“Got anything to drink?” I ask.

“Soda.” Shayna motions to an open liter bottle of Diet Coke.

I’d rather alcohol to dull my senses but settle for the soda and fill up a pink paper cup. “How are you?”

“Great,” she says, and I don’t know whether to be concerned or impressed by her answer. I’d thought she might be having a hard time today, being without Ray and all, yet she’s her usual self, hair and nails done, dressed like she runs a pyramid clothing scheme. She angles her shoulder away from me, toward the women next to her. “This is Cassandra, RJ’s sister.”

The two women smile at me but neither introduces themself, and Shayna evidently has no intention of doing it either. It’s clear I’m unwanted in their circle and move to the door, but a man with a trim beard opens it to stick his head in. “Babe, the princesses are here.”

“Perfect,” Shayna says, and my brain actually sputters as I make the connection that this man called Shayna babe and she answered. “Want to bring them in, and I’ll round everybody up?”

“Sure,” he says with a grin and spins around to bring the princesses in.

I steady myself with a hand on the counter. They know each other really well, apparently. Enough to bring the goddamn princesses in the back.

“Who’s he?”

“Todd,” she says like it’s no big thing and steps outside with her two friends.

“Todd,” I grumble. “Fucking Todd.”

I don’t know why I’m so upset. The fact that she’s in a relationship with someone who isn’t my brother. Or that she’s happy and I’m not. Or that my brother isn’t here, period. I don’t know. Probably all of it.

She’d told me she was moving on. I understood it then, but seeing it in real life is totally different.

“Come on, everybody!” Shayna waves her arms outside, gathering everyone close. “We have some very special guests here for the birthday girls!”

Todd offers me a bland, closed-lip smile that someone would give any stranger as he makes his way into the kitchen with two young women made up to look like vaguely familiar Disney princesses. They both tilt their heads and give me a practiced wave. I raise my cup to them in a salute.

As the princesses elegantly stride outside, screams erupt, and I plop down on one of the high-backed stools at the eat-in counter. If Ray were here, then he’d probably be dressed up as a prince to match, singing and dancing to his daughters’ delight. I close my eyes to imagine it.

If Ray were here, then I wouldn’t have had to drive my family to this party or be ashamed of the car I bought with my own money.

If Ray were here, then I’d probably try to duck out early, though he’d guilt me into staying, and then further guilt me into taking part in the festivities. But he’s gone, and I have to force myself to do the things he’d want me to.

If Ray were here, then I wouldn’t have to think of these if/then statements.

I inhale a deep breath and make my way outside to snap some pictures of the girls as they twirl with the princesses. My grandparents clap along, and I take a picture of that too. I don’t know what I’ll do with these pictures, but Ray would have played photographer, so…

Trying to busy myself, or at least look like I’m busy, I clear away some garbage and exchange a few pleasantries with Shayna’s parents. I have nothing in common with the other people here and mainly float around the pairs and trios gabbing away about their favorite rosé and vegan lasagna recipes. I watch the princess show in a daze until they finish to a wild round of applause, and I clap on cue.

“Who’s ready for cake?” Shayna asks.

Every hand of every child extends into the air, and she hauls out a big sheet cake. I film a video of Lucy and Lara blowing out their candles. Shayna’s behind them with one arm around the twins and the other around Todd’s waist. For his part, he has one arm around Shayna’s shoulders and one hand on the head of a girl with pigtails, who I assume is his daughter. They’re like a little family.

I want to puke.

Todd picks up a knife to cut the cake, and the three girls dance impatiently.

“I want the purple flower, Daddy!”

I freeze at the term of endearment from Lucy. She called Todd Daddy, and I know my mother’s heard it too because the color has drained from her face.

Fucking Todd.

As my brother’s life erases before my very eyes, I catch Shayna’s attention, and she has the decency to appear a little sheepish, but then her focus darts away from me and back on to the girls. The heat of this weather has nothing on the fire raging inside me. If I could, I’d mold it in my hands and destroy this whole party. But I’ll settle for Shayna.

I rub my mom’s back as she wipes tears from her eyes. Nana shakes her head, muttering things under her breath. Pop’s unaware of everything as he eats cake and ice cream, his hearing aid most likely turned off on purpose. What I wouldn’t give to be him, to be able to avoid the drama. I can’t, so I face it head on and corner Shayna in her living room.

“What the hell?” I blurt out.

“What?”

“What the hell is up with the girls calling Todd Daddy? I mean, Jesus, Ray isn’t even gone a year. Barely even six months!”

She lifts her hands in defense. “Look, I know it’s probably hard for you to?—”

“You are not about to lecture me,” I say, measuring my words. “What’s wrong with you? Raymond is those girls’ daddy. Not Todd!”

Shayna strides close to me, her eyes narrowing, sticking one perfectly trimmed white-and-glitter nail in my face. “First of all, do not yell at me. You are a guest in my house. Second of all, you have no idea what it’s been like for me since your brother died. Those girls need a father figure. If they want to call Todd Daddy because it makes them feel good, I’m not going to stop them.”

“He’s not their father!”

She folds her arms. “I know he isn’t, but I’m not arguing with you about this. Lucy and Lara need a man in their lives, and Todd is a good man. I’m sorry if it makes you upset, but I’m not going to stop the girls from expressing themselves.”

“So, that’s it? You’re going to pretend Ray didn’t exist?”

“Of course not.” She sneers at me. “I’m not the heartless bitch you think I am. I have framed pictures of him. I talk about him all the time, but the girls are little, they don’t understand. All they know is their daddy went to heaven, and Todd is here.”

My face hurts from trying to keep it in place, refusing to give away how much this not only hurts me, but everyone in my family.

“Todd isn’t taking Raymond’s place, but I can’t do this on my own.” Her voice cracks with emotion, and for a moment, I’m contrite about being so angry with her. It has to be difficult raising two little kids on her own. When I don’t put up any further arguments, she wipes at the corner of her eye, then fixes her hair and weaves around me, leaving me alone to wallow.

A little while later, my grandparents shuffle inside with my mom between them. Wordlessly, I grab my purse and we pile in the car. As soon as I pull away, Mom breaks down. The squeak of my brakes and her sniffles are the only sounds to keep us company on the ride home. By the time I drop my grandparents off, Mom’s mascara is zigzagged down her cheek, and when I open the front door at home, she rushes upstairs, right past Dad passed out in his chair. I’ve seen it so many times, I have no energy left to be disappointed in him. I should’ve guessed this was how he would end up, even if his grandchildren had a birthday.

Downstairs, I throw myself onto my bed, thoroughly drained.

Two steps forward, one step back.