“Are you telling them that you’ve decided to re-pierce your nipples?” I try to lighten the mood. “Because that probably will be a shock.”
“I don’t want to joke, Penny. Everything is always a joke to you.”
“OK. I’m sorry.”
“I planned how I wanted tonight to go for over a month, and then less than a week ago, I find out that you’re coming home. Why you decided that this was the holiday you finally wanted to springboard back into our lives, I have no idea. But I adjust. Then Mom says Martin is coming, and I adjust again. Now Smith is going to be here, and just when I think I can salvage our plan for tonight, you want me to adjust again.”
She’s never looked at me like this before. Like she resents me. Like she can’t stand the sight of me. All of a sudden, the room feels too cold. It’s like the house itself is telling me I’m not wanted here. That I don’t belong here now, just like I didn’t all those years ago.
Ten years ago, I would’ve run. I would’ve bolted through the front door just like I did when Smith and I got engaged. But I’m not running this time. I don’t want to be at odds with my sister. I want to be able to take up space and be in the group chat and deal with problems instead of letting them fester.
“I don’t think this has to be this difficult. I don’t know why we can’t compromise.”
“I’ve tried to compromise with you, Penny. You’re incapable of it. Anytime you don’t get your way, you take it as a personal offense and then disappear.”
“That’s because your compromises are completely unfair!” I raise my voice. “I wanted to tell my family that I was engaged, and your idea of a compromise was for me to take off my engagement ring and pretend it never happened.”
“Are you serious?” Her mouth hangs open. “I asked you to hold off on dropping a bombshell that was going to piss Mom and Dad off and make a huge scene in front of Professor Winston. I told you to wait until later that night, but instead you ran away. Do you have any idea how much drama you caused when you left? Do you think for a second Mom or Dad believed that you had an emergency obituary that needed your attention?”
“They knew I was writing the obituaries?”
“Of course they did. Do you think they’re idiots, Penny? Our parents might be old, but even back then, they knew how to google a byline. Mom and Dad blamed me for you spending the holidays with Smith’s family after that.”
“That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t your fault that I stopped coming here. I mean, sure, I was mad at you, but I got over it. I liked being with the Mackenzies. They made me feel like I belonged.”
“Well, that would’ve been really nice to know. Maybe the next time you decide to disappear for a decade, you could call or send a text and let us all know that it’s not just one of us you don’t want to be around. It’s all of us.”
She sprays a cloud of hair spray on her already perfect hair and leaves without so much as a backward glance my way. Falon follows her this time. She doesn’t attempt an apology or encouraging word. There aren’t any. I think, for once, Phoebe said everything she needed to.
I hang her suit back in the closet. It doesn’t feel right to wear it tonight. I can be just as convincing in my floral dress. I don’t need to be my sister to be taken seriously in this family. I put on my usual makeup but decide to go with a red lip. I never felt comfortable wearing red lipstick when I was in high school. Something I read in one of those terrible women’s magazines convinced me that redheads couldn’t wear red lipstick. Fiona was the one who convinced me to start wearing it. She always wore red lipstick on stage because it made her feel powerful. I want to feel powerful tonight. But as I hold the gold tube of red lipstick, I hesitate to bring it to my lips. I want to feel powerful, but maybe tonight isn’t the right time to command attention.
I don’t agree with all of my sister’s grievances, but I can’t deny the hurt that she feels. I’m not even sure when or why I got so dead set on bringing up the bookstore tonight. There’s nothing wrong with tomorrow night. In fact, tomorrow would be better. It’s a new moon.
“Knock, knock.” Martin taps on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Only if you have alcohol.”
“I don’t but I know where to get some,” he says. “Also, you look beautiful. Almost as beautiful as my lemon meringue pie.”
I offer a half smile. It’s all I can muster, and even that takes effort. He looks just as gorgeous as ever, dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a black button-up shirt, rolled at the sleeves. There’s the tiniest bit of blond scruff on his jawline, reminding me of the outdoorsy flannel-clad version of him on TikTok.