21. Eden

21

EDEN

"Hey, sis?" Eliza winces from the other room, Eva hiding behind her. They've clearly overheard my tantrum.

I sink to the floor when Nate closes the door behind him, and once the sound of his boots fades away, I cry even harder.

Eliza reaches me first, Eva rushing to my other side. I sniffle into their ponytails as my sisters sit with me on the floor. Eliza makes a clucking sound, and Eva draws back from the group hug.

"Are you using goat noises to comfort our sister?"

I can't help but laugh, although Eliza is indignant. "Comfort is comfort. And look… It worked."

I laugh harder as I use the back of my hand to scrub tears from my cheeks. "I don't know that I feel comforted exactly." I slump to the floor so I'm lying on the hardwood, staring at the ceiling Eila and I painted to mimic a stormy sky.

Eva and Eliza lie on either side of me, glancing at our paint job.

"I don't know that I've ever noticed this ceiling," Eliza says. "It's pretty cool."

"Mom hates it. She added it into her list of reasons the house is eclectic."

"Who the fuck cares what she thinks? Like she's the queen of healthy choices." Eliza shudders. "Honest to God, Eden, I'm glad you tossed her out. It's too damn stressful having her around, seeing all her shit clear as day and realizing we are miracles for surviving her parenting without going to prison."

"Yeah," Eva says, rolling to her side and resting her head on her arm. "I really am sorry I brought her back like that."

I pat my baby sister's arm. "I don't want you to feel guilty. I guess it's a growth opportunity or something. That's what Marsha would say."

As if summoned, Marsha pokes her head in the front door and peers around the chaos to see us sprawled on the floor in the dining room. "Did you just say my name? Where the hell have you been, Eden? You missed Honey Rollers."

I scramble upright and check my watch. "Oh my God, today is Tuesday, isn't it? Marsha, I'm so sorry."

Marsha walks around the house and whistles. Every spare surface either holds boxes of hastily packaged products, equipment to melt and render beeswax, or wire racks to hang candles. Furniture is overturned and scattered, courtesy of Mom's not-so-subtle exit. Marsha stands with her hands on her hips, squinting toward the mudroom where the last batch of wax simmers over the low flame Eliza was tending before I had a tantrum and threw Nate out.

"I take it you haven't been checking your phone," Marsha says, a grin tipping the side of her mouth.

I sigh and stand, wringing my hands together. "I really am sorry. Did Ghita fill in?"

Marsha grunts affirmatively. "Course she did. I'm just checking on you. I've been worried ever since your mother stormed the party." She snorts. "Storm! Get it?"

Eva laughs, but I sniffle, another round of tears threatening to erupt.

"Hey," Marsha soothes. "Want to talk about it? Tell Dr. Shultz." She looks around, presumably for somewhere to sit, but the floor is the only option. So she sinks down and pats the hardwood at her side.

"I'm going to butt out," Eliza gets to her feet. "But whatever you tell Marsha, make sure it includes you going above and beyond to deal with our mother when you absolutely do not owe her a fucking thing."

My stomach roils at those words. Do I really believe I owe my mother… something? I don't actually know. Eliza blows me a kiss and drags Eva into the other room.

The sounds of Eva and Eliza quietly starting to finish things up in the kitchen—hopefully stirring in the measured ingredients from the salve recipe—provide a surprisingly cathartic back track. I groan again, just to feel the vibration in my chest, and unload on Marsha.

"And then Nate was supposed to come help, but I guess a work thing came up, and he said he called but…" I shrug and gesture around. I'm not even sure where my phone is. I bury my face in my hands. I'm the worst. "He was trying to be here for me. He didn't have to agree to come over today to begin with. Who wants to volunteer to help their girlfriend work? I'm such a greedy brat. And now I stood up the Honey Rollers, so I'm a hypocrite, too."

Marsha pulls me in for a hug and holds me while I let out another extended bout of tears.

"You've had a heck of a month," she says into my hair. "It's okay to lose your temper. What's your plan for repair?"

"Repair?" I draw back, my brows knit together.

She tuts. "Yeah. Repair. What you do to make amends after you make a mistake. Sounds like you treated Nate unfairly."

I nod. "I'm a monster. He's having his own awful time, too. I just… wanted someone to rescue me, I think."

Marsha hooks a thumb toward the kitchen. "Someone like those broads?"

"They're always there for me. I wanted… I wanted someone to show up for me who isn't biologically required. It sounds awful when I say it that way."

Marsha is quiet for a few moments, either thinking of what to say next or trying to figure out how to tell me I suck.

"I care about you, kid, and we aren't related," she says, giving my arm a playful pinch. "And I know you never had it easy. You need to find a professional to help you figure out what comes next."

"Like therapy?"

Marsha nods.

"My sister Eila has a therapist. But she also has health insurance and a steady job."

"There are options out there. Want me to send you some stuff?"

I blink, indecision making it hard to form the words I want. Marsha lets me off the hook.

"You have the ability to be whoever you want, Eden. You are a gifted beekeeper, but you're also kind, and you have a lot to offer. Mental health pros can help you make sense of your feelings so they're not holding you back, you know?"

"Holding me back?" I furrow my brow, not used to this kind of conversation with Marsha. She often talks about the psychology of a hive, and I know she works in the mental health arena, but we rarely talk about her work apart from her side hustle hives.

Marsha sighs. "Let's just say you have a lot of great things going for you. You've got your sisters, and you've got the Honey Rollers… when you remember to show up."

I groan, and she gives my shoulder a playful shove.

"I'm messing with you. I know you're an independent woman, and I know you have a real thing going with Nate. I want you to know you have the tools to stick up for yourself with that mother of yours before she turns you into a pressure cooker of stress and you explode all over the people you actually enjoy being around."

I'm tired just thinking about Marsha's words, because they ring so true. I really have taken things out on my sisters and most especially Nate, all because I wasn't brave enough to stand up to my mother sooner. Why is it easier to lash out at the people in my life who are nice to me?

I turn to Marsha, tears blurring my vision. "How do I get started?"

Marsha squeezes my leg. "I'm going to text you a bunch of stuff. You can pick some groups that feel right." There's a clatter in the kitchen, followed by muttered curses. Marsha stands up. "Come on. Let's get your house put together before your bees decide to move in."