When I walked out of the office, I had a large bag of clothes and a big binder with details on the patients I’d be seeing. Something to familiarize myself with over the weekend.
I haul the bags into the kitchen, put away the groceries I picked up on the way home, and eat a quick sandwich while flipping through the binder. A glance at the clock tells me I barely have two hours left before the kids get off the bus, and I still have one task to finish.
Steeling myself, I dump my plate in the sink, grab the bag with my uniforms, and make my way upstairs.
The top drawer is underwear and socks, none of which I particularly care to keep or hand off to Goodwill. It would appear my sister had a taste for lace, which doesn’t surprise me. She started ordering from Victoria’s Secret when she got her first job at the grocery store in town. I don’t share her love for lingerie and generally buy my cotton panties in bulk.
The whole thing ends up in the garbage pile.
The second drawer yields tops and T-shirts, some of which date back to our high school years. I smile when I come across a familiar concert tee.
I had a crush on the lead singer since I first saw the local band play at a school function. I think I was about fifteen, which would’ve made Nicky seventeen. When I found out they would be playing an open-air concert in a park in Mountain View a few weeks later, I begged my sister to take me, knowing there was no way Mom and Dad would ever allow it. I would’ve asked Kathleen, but Mountain View is a forty-minute drive and neither of us had a driver’s license. Nicky did.
She never would’ve agreed to it if I hadn’t caught Andrew Fryer with his hand up her shirt behind the restrooms at the practice fields the week before. A little blackmail went a long way.
It hadn’t been hard to sneak out, since my parents were usually in bed by nine thirty, ten o’clock. Unfortunately they were wide awake when we tried to sneak back in at two in the morning, giggling our asses off. Apparently Dad was getting ready to go out on an emergency call.
It hadn’t been the first time—and would definitely not be the last—I dragged my sister into my adventures. It was, however, the first time my parents clued in, which is probably when I earned my label as troublemaker. We were grounded for a month, but at least we both had a concert T-shirt to show for it.
I put the shirt to the side. I’m keeping it.
The bottom drawer nets a stack of sweaters and some yoga pants. I may want to keep some of those. I don’t have much in the way of cold-weather clothes. I sort through the stack, until I get to the last sweater, a gray zip-up hoodie. I lift it up to check for holes when a large manila envelope falls out.
It had been hidden inside.
Rafe
“Two more visits next week and then you’re done,” Lisa says when I hand her the updated files.
“Until September,” I point out.
“Yeah, well, that’s three months away. A whole summer. Which reminds me, do you want me to block off vacation time on the schedule?”
Vacation time? I can’t remember the last time I took time off in the summer.
Not since that disastrous week when Sofie was maybe three, or four. She’d been an adventurous little thing, often bringing me critters—frogs, worms, and even small snakes—when she came in from spending time playing outside. It had been my idea to go camping at Table Rock State Park on the Arkansas border, about three hours away.
Sofie had taken to camping right away, but it didn’t take long to conclude sleeping in a tent and cooking over an open fire was not Nicky’s idea of a good time. Come to think of it, it may have been around then I started to sense perhaps we weren’t as well suited as I convinced myself we were.
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“Maybe you should,” Lisa insists. “The end of this month the kids will be home for the summer.”
Well, shit. I haven’t really thought about that either. I know the past two years Nicky had Sofie signed up for some kind of day camp for most of the summer, while she kept Spencer at home. That won’t be possible with Taz starting her new job.
Jesus. Mark me down for another parent fail.
“I’ll talk to Taz this weekend, figure it out. I’ll let you know Monday.”
I walk out of the clinic—waving a distracted goodbye when Lisa wishes me a good weekend—wondering if I should contact my alma mater to see if there are any third-year students looking for practicum placements during the summer months.
“We need to talk,” I announce, walking in the back door to find Taz in the kitchen.
“We sure do,” she snaps, surprising me with her tone. “After the kids are in bed.”
During dinner Taz engages with the kids, but freezes me out completely. Very different from this morning, and I struggle to figure out what might have brought about the change.
Unfortunately, I have to sit through a Disney movie the kids wanted to watch, get them ready for bed after, and read Spencer a chapter from his book, before I turn off their lights and make my way downstairs.
Taz is sitting on the couch, clasping a manila envelope against her chest.
“Were you even planning to tell me you were divorcing my sister?”
I narrowly catch the envelope she tosses in my direction, but I don’t need to see the contents to know what it holds.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I tell her honestly. I’ve uttered that same line a few times today. Perhaps it’s time I start thinking about stuff.
The divorce papers I handed Nicky four months ago hadn’t even been on my radar, given how things turned out.
I’d filed the application, but only after a mutual agreement that our marriage was null and void. Heck, for the last year we’d been sleeping in separate rooms. For the sake of the kids we weren’t obvious about it, but every night I’d do my thing in the master bath before heading down the hall to the spare bedroom. Sofie had questioned us once, and Nicky quickly covered by saying Daddy sometimes snores. I don’t even know if that’s true or not, but it seemed to satisfy Sofie for the moment.
I sink down in one of the club chairs and rest my elbows on my knees, my eyes on an obviously angry Taz.
“To be honest, I’m not sure I would’ve. It was a mutual decision to end things.”
“Easy to say. She’s not here to argue it.”
That was a low blow, and I know she sees the impact it has on me when she briefly winces.
“Which is why I probably wouldn’t have brought it up.” I’m torn, on one hand I don’t want to say anything bad about her sister, but I’m also the one insisting on better communication. Transparency would be a good start. “A year ago, I discovered Nicky was having an affair.”
Taz’s eyes grow big and she blurts out, “Again?”
“Right. I discovered about her prior indiscretion a few days before she died. Which is another discussion we should have, but let’s stick with this one first. I’ve come to realize in this past year that her affair—although still not excusable—was not so much the cause of our differences, but rather a symptom.”
“Puleeze…” Taz rolls her eyes for good measure and I bite down a grin at the dramatics. “I didn’t get it the first time, I certainly don’t get it now. Why make excuses for her? She had everything. Why would she throw that away?”