Say You'll Remember Me(95)

I turned to my dad. “You need to better communicate with us. I know you’re Airport Dad, and you want to do all the planning and get us there and carry all the baggage, but you can’t. We’re adults. We can handle everything you can handle. We should have known about Grandma. We should have known how close to a breaking point you were. And Jeneva…” I looked at my sister. “You need to let things go.” I held gazes with each of them. “We all want the same thing. We want to keep our promises to Mom. We want her here, with us. But she would never have wanted to be here if she knew it meant us sacrificing our mental health and happiness to make it happen, and she definitely wouldn’t have wanted it if it meant this family was going to lose each other over it.”

I let them sit in the silence for a long moment.

“I have a proposition,” I said. “I am willing to decline the job offer. I will continue to stay home with Mom so she can stay home with us—but on two conditions. The first one is that the three of you cover my portion of the rent and loan payment. I can take on freelance jobs to pay the rest of my bills. If I stay home, it’ll be a fraction of the cost of a facility or hiring a professional to be here. We get to keep our promise, at least for a while because I can’t guarantee that this is going to be a long-term fix. We very well might get to a point where it’s no longer the right thing for her or us to keep her here. I personally don’t think we’re there yet. I think we should take this one month at a time and see how it goes.”

I paused.

“The second condition is that you all consider if this is something that you’re actually capable of. Because if we’re not willing to work together, it’s not going to work at all. We should just put her where it’s easier on us and easier on her because watching you all bicker and ignore each other isn’t what she asked us for either. So you tell me what it’s going to be. I’m willing to do my part. The rest of it’s on you.”

I let the words linger in the air.

Jeneva sat there clutching her wineglass with both hands, staring at someplace past me on the wall. Dad’s eyes were fixed on the carpet. Tristan was hugging his arms around himself while Pooter purred and rubbed against his legs.

“I don’t like that you’re fucking around,” he said to Dad quietly.

It wasn’t an attack. He was trying to talk about it.

It was a long moment before Dad replied. “Sometimes the way we love someone changes with the seasons of our lives,” Dad said. “Sometimes love and commitment looks like caring for the person you’re married to by feeding them and putting on their pajamas and brushing their teeth. I will love your mother until the day I die. I will whisper her name with my last breath.” He choked on the words and I had to swallow a lump in my throat. “I’m not looking to replace her. I could never replace her. I just need something in my life that isn’t… this.” He raised his eyes to Tristan’s. “There is no bad guy here, Tristan,” he said, his voice thick. “I know it would make it easier if there was, but there’s not.”

My brother looked like he was going to cry. “I just always thought you two had true love,” he whispered.

“They do,” Jeneva said, her eyes tearing up.

“I believe that too,” I said quietly.

Dad put his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Jeneva said. “And, Tristan, I’m sorry to you too.”

Tristan nodded. “So am I.”

Dad sat back in his chair and wiped under his eyes. “I still don’t think I could have told you about Grandma. I wish I could have, but I couldn’t. She told me in confidence. But I should have convinced her to tell you herself. At the bare minimum, I should have done more to make her feel like she wouldn’t have been a burden if she was someone else we had to take care of—”

“That’s not your fault, Dad,” Jeneva said. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was. I’m just…” She trailed off. “I’m so angry. About everything.” Her chin quivered. “And it’s not even about you, it’s just everything.”

“Everything fucking sucks,” Tristan said.

I nodded. “It really does.”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Dad said.

We all laughed a little. Then we slipped back into silence.

“Life is so hard,” I said quietly.

“I don’t even remember a time when it wasn’t,” Jeneva said.

Dad nodded absently. “Maybe we need to work on that. Make things easier on each other. Make happy memories again.”

Another thing we could agree on.

I sniffed and grabbed a tissue from the box on my nightstand. “Does anyone want pizza?”

“Oh God, yes,” Jeneva said.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s order some pizzas. Let’s go check on Mom. And then let’s talk through what this is going to look like.”

Dad leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I love all of you. In case I haven’t said it lately. Or said it enough.”

I smiled. “We know, Dad. We haven’t forgotten.”





46





SAMANTHA


Three Months Later