Totally and Completely Fine(74)

It was a disorienting dream—and I even tried getting back into it by scootching deeper down into bed, under the covers, but I needed caffeine, and Teddy needed breakfast.

Though I didn’t see Teddy at the foot of the bed, where she usually was in the morning. Apparently, she’d gotten tired of waiting for me and had decided to start her day.

I could take the hint.

I’d probably never have that dream again, and never know what the fuck the point of the fish was.

I went downstairs and screamed when I entered the kitchen.

Gabe put his finger in his ear, twisted, and winced. “Jesus Christ, Lauren,” he said.

He was sitting at the kitchen island with Chani.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my heart pounding from the surprise.

They should have been in New York. The plan had been that they’d return on Sunday night—I was supposed to pick them up at the airport. It was Saturday morning.

I noticed Lena sitting there. Her face—her entire being—looked like a volcano on the cusp of eruption.

“What happened?” I asked, suddenly terrified. “Is everyone okay? Where’s Eve?”

“She’s fine,” Chani said quickly. “We already dropped her off. Everyone is fine.”

“I sent you a text,” Gabe said.

“You did?”

But there were no missed texts on my phone.

“Shit,” Gabe said. “I meant to send you a text.”

Chani shot him a look, and he gave me an apologetic glance.

“Sorry,” he said.

We were going to have a talk about communication, but at the moment, I didn’t care about that.

“What is going on? Why are you home so soon?” I looked at Lena, but she was glaring at the countertop. “Lena? Did something happen?”

Gabe crossed his arms. “Lena, do you want to tell your mom why we came back this early?”

There was no response.

“Lena!” Gabe barked.

Chani and I both jumped. Gabe never raised his voice. Especially not at Lena.

But the person in question didn’t startle. Instead, she slowly, dangerously fixed her eyes on her uncle. I wasn’t proud of myself, but I took a step back at her murderous expression.

“Fuck. You,” she said to Gabe.

“Lena!” I was shocked. I had never—ever—heard her speak to someone that way, especially not her uncle. “What is going on?”

“Ask him.” Lena raised a hand, an accusatory finger pointed at Gabe. “Ask him why he’s a hypocrite.”

“It’s not the same thing at all. I’m an adult,” Gabe said, but his face was white. “You are thirteen years old. It’s actually illegal for you to drink.”

“You were drinking?” My head was spinning.

“She raided the minibar at the hotel,” Gabe said. “She and Eve were as drunk as skunks. I can’t tell who’s the worse influence, but I think we all need to rethink this friendship.”

“We had to tell Eve’s parents,” Chani said, her voice quiet.

I didn’t know what to say. Gabe was crossing a line in making any kind of rules pertaining to my kid, but he was also clearly upset and worried.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Gabe said. “This isn’t like you at all.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Lena screamed, pushing back from the counter.

“Lena!”

“You don’t know me at all,” she said.

She focused on Gabe, her gaze lethal.

“It was one night.” Lena’s eyes were tearful. “But you. You were drunk. All. The. Time. Birthdays. Holidays.”

Chani’s hand was at her mouth, her eyes wide. Gabe looked like he wanted to throw up.

I wasn’t sure anyone had ever spoken to him like this.

“Dad’s funeral!” Lena’s voice cracked and the tears came. “You were drunk at his funeral.”

“Lena,” I tried again, but all she had were eyes—and words—for Gabe.

“And Eve is not my best friend,” she said. “She’s my girlfriend. My girlfriend! Because I like girls.” Her face was wet. “But you don’t care. You’re too busy with your movies and your girlfriends, and your drinking, to care about me. To care about any of us.”

It was as if all the air had dissipated from the room. All the color from our faces as well.

“I wish you’d just go away,” Lena said to Gabe, and with that, she was gone, feet pounding up the stairs, the door slam shaking the entire house.

* * *

—

We tried to not listen, but the problem with the house was that it echoed.

And Lena wasn’t trying to keep her voice down.

I sat in the kitchen with Chani, the two of us pretending to drink tea, when in reality we were listening to my thirteen-year-old daughter drag my forty-year-old brother to hell.

In fairness, he’d asked for it.

He’d asked for it by following her up the stairs after her tearful, shocking departure, knocking on the door, and saying he wanted to talk.

It had started quiet, with the low rumble of his voice.

“I’ve got some cookies,” I’d said to Chani.