“Why didn’t you say that before?” I ask. I knew he was sick, but I never knew he was having this much trouble. Then again, my head has been buried in the sand the past few years, and I’ve been constantly on the go, never really looking up to see what’s happening. A fresh wave of guilt rushes up to meet me.
“Because I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. I don’t enjoy showing weakness or how this disease is affecting me. I was also hoping my children would be able to act like adults, come together for a family reunion, and enjoy each other’s company. I had no idea that inviting you all back to the island was going to cause such a tumultuous string of events, ending in an embarrassing display of our family.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t care about the party. Were we excited about it? Of course. Any chance to celebrate the love I share with this woman is a chance I want to take, but that’s not what this is about. There’s been a disconnect in this family, and your mother and I are done.”
Mom steps away from Dad and goes behind a chair, where she pulls out two suitcases, which she sets down in front of them. She then picks up a canvas bag and walks over to us, holding it open.
“Your mother is collecting your phones, wallets, and keys.”
We sit there stunned, unsure of what to do.
“Now,” Dad’s voice booms.
We all scramble and drop everything we have in the canvas bag. She closes it and drapes it over her shoulder.
“Food and drinks are in the kitchen, and Bart next door has a working phone in case of an emergency. You have twenty-four hours to fix this. Fix your relationship with each other, and I mean fix it, or your mother and I will be done with you three.”
“Done?” I ask, my body responding with an all-out sweat.
“Yes.” Dad’s chin rises. “Done. We have given you our lives, our love, our strength, our courage. We deserve to see the children we raised, not mere shadows. We want to be proud of you three, and not because of your accomplishments or where you’ve gone or what you’ve done for us, but because of the kind of humans you are, the bonds you share with each other. That’s what will make us proud.” Taking a deep breath, he grabs Mom’s hand. “I don’t know how much time I have left in this world. It could be years, could be shorter, but I will be damned if I leave you three like this. Despondent. Jealous. Angry. Unloving. Uncaring. Discouraged. Belligerent. Your mother and I deserve more from you. From all of you.”
With that, he turns and heads toward the entryway. Mom follows, popping out the handles of the suitcases and rolling them behind her.
We don’t move.
We don’t say anything.
Instead, we let them take off with our keys, phones, and wallets, leaving us in the house we grew up in. But we’re not surrounded by love like we normally are—we’re sitting in disdain.
The front door clicks shut, and silence falls over the room.
Cooper leans back on the couch and blows out a heavy breath. I lean forward, pressing my hands together. Palmer stands from the couch and mutters, “I need to get out of this dress.”
“But you’re coming back down here, right?” I ask.
She twists toward me. “As if I have an option.”
And then she heads upstairs.
Next to me, Cooper undoes his tie and takes off his shoes. “I’m going to grab some spare clothes from upstairs. I suggest you do the same. Meet back down here in five. Hide the wine—you know Palmer will try to drink some.”
And then he takes off too.
My initial reaction is to text Larkin. To look for some advice. To use her as a sounding board. I need her more than ever in this moment. I need her kindness, her intelligence. My dad is slowly dying; my siblings hate me; my parents are disappointed in us.
In me.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to make them happy, and yet here I am, knee deep in disappointment.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in myself. I lift off the couch and head upstairs to get changed for the night.
It’s going to be a long one.
CHAPTER FIFTY
COOPER
“Where should we start?” Ford asks as we sit around the dining room table.
We took some time to get changed, gather ourselves, and then grab something to eat. We put some cheese and crackers on a plate, along with some fruit and iced molasses cookies, and we grabbed drinks, but no one has touched anything since we sat down.
Probably because we’re all in shock.
I know I am.
Shock.
Embarrassment.
Hurt.
The emotions keep rolling around in my head, heating me up and then shaking my core to the point of nausea. And Nora was there. I can’t imagine what she must think of us, of the shit show we put together. After all the fighting and bickering over the cake, that’s the only thing that showed up. I almost smile as I think about the three cakes she baked, thoughtful and wonderful just like her—and then I remember they’ve gone to waste.
“We’re going to need to talk,” Ford pushes.
Palmer picks up a piece of cheese and eats it. I sip my water, unsure of what to do other than point fingers, and I know that’s not going to help the cause.
“Fine, I’ll start,” Ford says. “I’m sorry for dropping the ball earlier—”
“I don’t think that’s what Mom and Dad want us talking about,” I interrupt.
“Okay. Since you’re the expert on Mom and Dad, then why don’t you lead the conversation?” Palmer says as she pulls her leg close to her chest, her oversize sweatshirt drowning her.
“Fine, I’ll lead the conversation.” I adjust myself in my seat. “Let’s talk about the source of the disconnect between the three of us.”
“You really think you can pinpoint that?” Palmer asks.
I nod slowly. “Yes, I can.”
Ford faces me. “What do you mean?”
“Palmer’s senior year of high school.” Palmer’s eyes fall to mine.
“Why do you say that?” she asks nervously.
“Do you remember when you were in second grade and you came home in tears because some dipshit kid told you we weren’t really your brothers?”
“Yes,” Palmer says, looking confused.
“Do you remember the conversation we had?”
Palmer gives it some thought. “Not word for word, but I remember you telling me it didn’t matter that we weren’t blood—we were connected by our souls, and nothing could break that.”
I nod and play with the napkin in front of me. “And I said that no matter what, we were never going to leave you. That night and for an entire week, Ford and I slept on the floor of your room to show you we weren’t going anywhere.”
“I remember that,” Palmer says, a small smile pulling at her lips. “That’s when Mom’s cat Otis was stuck in the room and freaked out so bad that he ended up puking on Ford.”
“I can still smell the puke,” Ford says absentmindedly.
“We made it a tradition, that we spent the night in your room every year for the first week of school. Do you remember that?”
“I do.”
“And then Ford went off to college, but it was okay, because I was still there with you. And when it was time for me to go to college, I stayed at home and commuted, so I was always there.” Palmer nods. “But your senior year, I moved in with Dealia because we were getting married.”