Gemma took a bite of the sandwich. It was delicious, cold and crisp with just the correct ration of mayonnaise (which she knew that Hope made from scratch because she seemed to have an all-consuming fear of preservatives and processed food) and the crusty bread was distinctly from Island Bakery.
“This is delicious. Thank you.” She took another bite, only then noticing that Hope was still looking at her, her expression turning to one of misery now.
“Take it back,” she pleaded.
Gemma blinked. “Take what back?” Then, realizing that Hope meant the comment about their mother, she started to laugh. “Relax, Hope. You’re not like Mom. You’re…you’re like a super-sized version of her. Is that better? I mean, this mayonnaise is fresh, and you know that Mom was never much of a cook…”
“I’m not a super-sized version of Mom. I can’t be. I don’t want that life!” And then, to Gemma’s horror, Hope burst into tears.
“Whoa,” she said, setting down her sandwich. “Where is all this coming from?”
Hope didn’t cry, at least, not unless it mattered. Ellie was the one who cried, at a sad movie, when they found that birds’ nest overturned in their backyard one day, the tiny blue eggs inside it cracked. And Gemma cried all the time recently. More than she smiled.
Until recently, she thought, once again thinking of Leo. She took a breath, and then, to distract herself, another bite of her sandwich.
Hope sat down on the bed and wiped her eyes. She sniffed hard. “I’m just…I’m tired.”
Yes, Hope was tired. That made sense. After all, look at all she did! She cooked! She cleaned. She took care of those girls, all on her own. Evan traveled a lot, she knew, especially since he got that big promotion a few years ago. There was nothing wrong with their marriage. Hope was just tired.
“Of course you are. Look at all you do! You’re the perfect wife and mother.”
Hope slanted her a glance. “I’m far from perfect.” Gemma opened her mouth to protest but Hope clarified, “I don’t want to be perfect. I’m tired of being perfect. I’m so, so tired of being perfect.”
“But—” But she had never complained before. Not even when they were kids and their mother would insist on matching outfits for the holiday card and Hope was way too old be dressed in the same tartan as Ellie, who was six years younger.
“I thought you liked being—” Seeing Hope’s eyes flinch, Gemma searched for better wording. “You always did everything so well. Everything you tried, you succeeded in. Grades. Dating. School activities. Your house.”
Hope was shaking her head. “It’s not as easy as it all looks.”
“I never said it was easy,” Gemma said. “But you make it look that way.”
Hope was quiet for a moment, her tears momentarily stopped. “You know how I told you that I wanted to do something else? Something for me?”
Gemma nodded.
“I might have found it. But it’s here, on the island.”
“I thought you said this project for Darcy was a one-time thing.” Gemma frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m thinking of leaving Evan,” Hope said, and now Gemma set down her sandwich. Hope had her full attention and then some.
Her heart was pounding in her chest as she stared at Hope, searching for a hint of a smile, for an uncharacteristic flare for dramatics. But all she saw was sadness in her sister’s eyes. “What? But you’re the perfect couple.”
“The perfect couple. Do you see a pattern? Nothing is perfect, Gemma. We may have been raised to think we had to be perfect, but there is no such thing. People get divorced. People breakup.” She gave her a knowing look. “People don’t wake up with perfect hair and walk around like smiling robots, hiding their emotions. And…I’ve realized that some people even actually like me for just being myself, not the perfect version of it.”
Gemma had never seen this coming. Evan and Hope had been together forever. They had a beautiful house, beautiful children, success and history and longevity and…She blinked. It didn’t make any sense. “But a divorce?”
“I can’t think of that word, not yet. But this relationship…I haven’t been happy for some time, and I wasn’t prepared to admit it to myself. Or Evan. Evan is never home, and when he is, he isn’t really there, you know? He doesn’t notice if the girls need a bath or if they’re getting into trouble. I have to ask him to babysit so I can get my hair cut every six months! That’s what he calls it! Babysitting! His own children! What does that make me?”
“Wow,” Gemma said, trying to process what she was hearing. Hope never complained about Evan, other than a few little anecdotes when it came to housework or other things that women tended to joke about when they met for coffee. Now, she tried to remember if Hope had even mentioned her husband since arriving on the island. Or if they’d talked at all. She’d assumed that with Evan being overseas and with the reception here being hit or miss, that there was nothing more to it than that. But she’d assumed a lot of things, it seemed.
“I just assumed that you liked doing everything when it came to the house and the girls.”
“Someone has to do it,” Hope replied. “And Evan has his job, of course. And my job is to take care of the girls, but it’s not the same. My day doesn’t end, and I can’t complain about it without looking like some monster. And he travels so much that when the twins were born, it just made sense that I would leave my job to take care of them. But more and more…I’m jealous of that career. I’m jealous that he has somewhere to go everyday, where people call him by his real name, not by his role.”
Gemma nodded. “You just made it look so easy.”
“And I love my girls,” Hope said, brushing away a tear. “But…I need something else. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m not sure I ever knew who I was. I just did what I thought I was supposed to do, without questioning anything. And I’m…I’m not happy.”
“So this job?” Gemma eyed the sandwich as her stomach grumbled. It would be rude to eat in times of Hope’s distress. But it would be just as rude to not take the food that Hope took such care to prepare.
She slid her hand onto the plate. Hope didn’t seem to notice, or care. She was staring at her lap. Her cheeks were blotched. “I haven’t decided anything yet. I haven’t told Evan.”
“I remember when you met him,” Gemma said, giving her a grin. Didn’t Hope remember that too? She used to talk about him all the time back then, always with a smile. She seemed to shine around him. To glow in a way that she never had before.
Hope managed a small smile. “He was so cute. And so attentive. He was everything I thought I wanted. Now I wonder if I was fulfilling the path that Mom and Dad laid out for me.”
“You adored him,” Gemma reminded her, realizing that she was speaking in the past tense and not sure how that made her feel. She’d been so caught up in her own breakup, she hadn’t considered that Hope could be having struggles of her own. Had she not seen the warning signs? She frowned, trying to replay the past few months, but she was certain that she hadn’t missed anything. That Hope hadn’t let on. More than that, she hadn’t shared.