Chapter 16 | Liz

Chapter 16

Liz

A partment-white walls, standard gray carpets, and sliding balcony doors—this apartment is a blank canvas of mediocrity. But it’s mine, and I can’t help constantly squeezing the key tucked into my pocket. Even though they gave me the key a few days early, I’m not ready to move in. One, because none of my furniture is arriving for another week, and two, I told Zoey exactly when I was leaving, and based on her mood recently, I feel like departing sooner might not be well received.

Instead, I’m lying on the floor, staring at the blank walls of my home for the next six months, and imagining what it could be. In the quiet, my creativity has free rein. Painting the walls is a no-go, but I can absolutely splash the walls with color in artwork and statement pieces. There’s a funky thrift store over by the Princeton campus. I bet I can find a cool lamp or some retro décor. Maybe I can stop by after work or the next time I go into the office. I’ve been trying to alternate office days with remote days to maximize the time I have with Zoey, but she’s been MIA more than usual. And not with Andrew, as far as I can tell.

My stomach rumbles. Right, because it’s dinner time. And I definitely can’t eat here. As I pull myself to sitting and adjust my now-crooked ponytail, there’s a knock on the door. I stop, my fingers twisted in my hair tie. Who the heck is knocking on my door? God help me if it’s Julian.

I scrambled to my feet and then pull the door open to find my sister on the other side. I blink a few times, but no, she’s real. “Cecilia?”

“Hey, sis,” she says with a smile.

“What in the world are you doing in New Jersey? And how did you know I was here?” I ask rapid-fire as I let her into the apartment.

“What do you mean what I am I doing in New Jersey?” She’s not facing me, but I can hear the eye roll regardless. “You left your husband! You signed a six-month lease! Of course I came.”

I practically jump into her arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Thank you.”

“Tell me everything,” she says.

And so I do.

We’re sitting on the floor in the living room, our backs against the wall. Cecilia kicked off her shoes at some point during my story, and her hair is up in a messy bun. I haven’t seen her like this in a long time. I haven’t seen her period. Despite the tension of my story, she seems relaxed.

"I can’t believe Mom let you sign a six-month lease,” Cecilia says and scans the apartment, her eyes discerning. “And a two bedroom at that.”

I debate letting the remark go but find that I can’t, even though I’m more than grateful that my sister came home for me. “You know why I wanted the two bedroom.”

Cecilia shakes her head. “Yes, but you don’t sign a six-month lease so that a wayward college student can have a soft landing when she’ll only be around for six more weeks.”

“Zoey’s not some wayward college student. She’s our sister.” Usually when we have this argument, I’m resigned to my older sister’s views, but today anger seethes through me. Maybe because I’ve been living with Zoey or maybe because I’m angry in general right now, but I can’t. Not after so many nights of that sad soundtrack coming through the walls and watching our dad fish for any information on his eldest daughter’s life.

“You know I don’t see it that way,” she says as she gets to her feet.

That should be the end of this conversation. Cecilia won’t budge on this, but after Julian’s misstep, I know deep in my gut that I would never disavow a child, no matter how they came to be.

“Dad broke up our family, Cee. Dad cheated on Mom . It’s not Zoey’s fault she was conceived from an affair.”

I feel like a broken record, and I must sound like one. I’ve said this exact statement more times than I can count in the last seventeen years. Maybe Cecilia and Julian are more alike than I realized, both unable to evolve and settle and be. My older sister certainly has a penchant for running off anything good in her life. Did I marry my sister? Is that subconsciously why I give Julian chance after chance? I wring my hands, hoping to calm myself down, but the anger is already too deeply rooted.

“And”—I point an accusatory finger at Cecilia—“I think seventeen years is enough time to get over the trauma of our parents’ mostly civil divorce. Especially because you weren’t even there. You were away at college, and I was the one shuttled between parents and welcoming a two-year-old into my life.”

“Mostly civil...” Cecilia trails off, shaking her head, but then she holds up her hand placatingly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about Zoey.” She walks into the dining room. “What are you thinking for this space?”

A n hour later, we’re at a trendy brewery across the street from the Princeton campus. My coworkers frequent this place. It’s a good lunch spot and an even better happy hour option. The Christmas party was even held here once. With a majority of the student body gone for the summer and the workday already over, the restaurant is quiet, mostly filled with lingering corporate types.

On a whim, I texted my mom an invite to join us, and now she sits next to Cecilia and across from me. She isn’t even surprised to see her eldest. That fact grates on my nerves, though it shouldn’t. I know that even with the miles between them, Cecilia is closer to Mom than I am. It’s an inevitable aftereffect of Cecilia following in our mother’s footsteps. But knowing they are close and seeing it are two different things. It’s like watching my dad and Zoey these past weeks but infinitely worse. Mom and Cecilia don’t look alike, per se. Cecilia is dark haired like our dad with dark-brown eyes. Anna is a sandy blonde—natural, not bottled. She has green eyes that both of us wish we’d inherited. At least I won out with hazel, but I’ve always been the obvious mix of my parents. But beyond looks, there’s nothing else they could be aside from mother and daughter. They talk the same way—with their hands. They laugh the same way. Their mouths form matching smiles, and their vocabularies mimic each other’s.

“Listen,” Cecilia says, her voice tentative and incredulous at the same time. Whatever she’s about to say, I am not going to like it. Not one bit. “Don’t get mad, but Evie sent me this text from the hotel and asked me to show it to you.”

I take Cecilia’s phone and glance at the event flyer without really taking anything in—because Evie. I thought things with Evie petered out months ago, as most of my sister’s relationships do when they get too serious. Not that Cecilia will ever own up to the fact that she pushes away any good thing in her life and generally seeks out the not-good ones. It’s glaringly obvious when you’re paying attention, and when it comes to Cecilia, I’m always paying attention. At least, I thought I was. My mom’s eyebrows practically reached her hairline at Evie’s name, though, so it’s not only me.

“Evie?” I ask innocuously.

Cecilia glares at me. “Yes, Evie.”

“Is here with you?”

“Read the flyer, Liz.”

I swallow my laugh. Poor Cecilia. She’s in love, and she can’t stand it. I look at the image on the screen, taking in the curly font and awful clip art. Speed Dating for Divorcees . Seriously. This is a real thing.

“Wow,” I say because there are no words for this.

I hold the phone out to my mom, even though I’m certain she knows exactly what’s on it. Her reaction is one of surprise though.

“But she’s not divorced,” Mom says, clearly intrigued, not aghast. I guess I’m glad they are both being supportive, but really? Speed Dating for Divorcees?

“I’m not even sure I’m going to be divorced yet,” I add.

Neither of them scoffs at that, but they also don’t show any signs of encouragement. When it comes to Julian, I’m on my own.

“That’s what I said to Evie.” Cecilia gives me a small smile, as if to let me know she didn’t instigate this. “But she thought it would be good for you. You’ve been with Julian your whole life, and with the exception of that guy you dated right before you and Julian got engaged—who, if memory serves, you didn’t even sleep with—Julian’s been your entire love life.”

I slept with Lucas. A lot. He wasn’t some guy I dated before getting engaged to Julian. When Julian showed up at my door after a year of silence with an engagement ring, I’d been falling in love with another guy. I had moved on in a lot of ways. But while I was in Philly ensconced in a lust hole, Cecilia was building her real estate empire in Chicago. To her, my engagement probably looked as simple as kicking Lucas to the curb and falling back into bed with Julian. It was anything but simple. It wasn’t even easy. But I’m not about to say any of that in front of my mother or give them any more ammunition.

Cecilia continues, unaware of the highlight reel she’s kicked off in my mind. “She thinks you need to remember there are other options out there and that they are, in fact, available to you.”

“I like this Evie,” my mother says, a mischievous look on her face.

I arch an eyebrow at the two of them. “You’re saying I need to find myself a Sheila?”

My mother nods emphatically. “Yes, that exactly.”

What in the world? My mother condoning dating while married? Does it count if you’re separated? What are the rules here? Will “my mother, who was totally and utterly betrayed by an extramarital affair, said it was okay” stand up in relationship court? Probably not. I try to picture telling Julian I went on a date or slept with someone else. What are the deal-breakers here? Does it even matter if we’re not emotionally together?

“Mom?”

“Honey, you and Julian are obviously separated. Why not go on a date or ten?”

“Ten.”

She shrugs. “You never know what you’ll like, you know, now that you can try all the flavors.”

“Mom!”

“What? It took quite a few taste tests before I found one I liked after your father.”

I’m going to vomit. Oh my god. I hand Cecilia back her phone, committing the information to memory. Speed dating doesn’t actually count as dating. It’s more like an interview of several available and probably horny men. Maybe I’ll consider it. Later. When I’m not stuck in this god-awful conversation.

I turn to my sister. “I didn’t think you told your girlfriends enough about your family for Evie to be so insightful on my situation.”

She grimaces and then shrugs. “She’s a psychologist.”

“Well, since she’s here, does that mean we get to meet her?”

We haven’t met one of Cecilia’s partners in years. She doesn’t bring them to holidays or family dinners. In fact, my sister has seemingly gone out of her way to end a relationship whenever that possibility might happen. Including right before my wedding, when she broke up with her girlfriend and brought some random guy to the reception. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary to us, but Julian’s family, aside from his twin, was definitely confused.

Cecilia’s shoulders slouch, and I feel the no coming. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked with our mother sitting here. Cecilia is always more reluctant to talk about her love life when Mom’s around. It’s the one no-go place they seem to have. But then a grin splits Cecilia’s face. Uh-oh. I’m going to like this even less than the flyer.

“Yes, you can meet her. If you go to speed dating.”