Lib Novel Page 9
I only have two cousins—Ethan on my dad’s side and Jordy on my mom’s. Jordy and I no longer speak, and she can kiss my ass. But Ethan? He’s like a brother. He lived with us for a while when his dad split, so we grew up close, and we’re still cool now.
Claire, on the other hand, is boring and perfect, but fine I guess. Not only that, she and Ethan have a kid together—Finn—who’s actually pretty awesome for a seven-year-old. Everyone else will be coupled up at this wedding, so I’ll probably end up at the kids table with Finn, who I’m sure will be the best company of all.
“Thanks,” I say. I open it just because she’s watching me, inwardly groaning when I see the “plus one” next to my name. Nope, no plus one. Just lonely old me on a ship full of couples. Because this wedding is taking place on a nighttime cruise in the bay, which should be ultra-romantic for everyone else and hugely awkward for me.
“Sounds fun,” I say, slipping the envelope into my purse.
The afternoon passes and I still haven’t texted Brayden back. The truth is, I’m afraid. I can’t go on a horseback ride with him. I can’t do anything with him. I never even should have given him my phone number, because this man does not belong to me. If I open myself to him in any way, I’m going to get hurt.
But when my phone pings again, I can’t help but look. Then smile. It’s a picture of Brayden completely mugging for a selfie with his horse. I can tell he’s leaning over awkwardly to get the horse’s face in the photo, and I can see the ocean behind him. Oh man, a beach ride. It’s something I always wanted to do when I was taking lessons, but never got to.
Brayden: We missed you on the beach today.
It’s obvious he’s not taking my silent treatment seriously, and I can’t help feeling happy about that. I missed him too. I just can’t tell him that.
I’m in foreign territory here. In the past, I would have just invited him over, girlfriend or not. Though, looking around, there’s no way anyone is coming over. Ever since Maren moved out, I’ve kind of let things go around here a little bit. Sitting at my kitchen table, my view is of my grandmother’s countertops full of all her fancy dishes with some sort of food crusted on them. I have clothes I washed and then hung to dry hanging in the doorway, even though they’ve been dry for two weeks now. In the living room, the couch has become an extension of my closet, with piles of clothes taking up every inch of space. I haven’t mopped the floors in weeks. Even the garbage is overflowing, though I might be nose blind to the smell.
It’s embarrassing, and I’m not really sure what to do about it. Sometimes I get a hair up my ass to clean the place top to bottom; sometimes I get stuck in my feelings, consumed by my loneliness and a pit of grief that won’t leave.
I miss having a roommate, but more than that, I miss my Nanna Dot.
It’s been five years since she passed. Her arms were wrapped around her own body, as if she were giving herself a hug in those final moments. It brought me peace to think of it that way, even as I sobbed into the 9-1-1 call.
I thought I could handle living on my own, but in just a few weeks, the house became dark and cluttered, unlike the bright cheerfulness that existed when Nanna Dot was here. She used to throw open the curtains and sing a welcome to the day. Her voice was shaky and uneven, but angelic to my ears. I loved hearing Nanna Dot sing because it meant she was happy, and her happiness was infectious.
But when she was gone, the curtains remained closed and the house song-free. Silent, except for the occasional settling creak or sound of passing cars. No one visited. No one called, especially not my mother. It had to do with the will, as Nanna Dot left me everything, including this huge house. But they had to have known I would have taken my grandmother over all of it—because without her, I had no one.
My natural impulse was to hide away in this house forever. I had enough money to live the rest of my life without needing to work. The house was paid off, and my bank account had more figures than I thought I’d ever see in a lifetime. But my mental health was plummeting, so I got a job at Insomniacs because it was the best place I could think of where I’d be around people without having to get close to anyone. I started coloring my hair in bright hues, hoping it would help lighten the darkness in my heart. I got a roommate and endured her constant criticism of how I kept house.
That first roommate was just awful. She only stayed because I hardly charged anything for rent. When she moved out, I was more than happy to see her go. I thought I’d see how it felt to live on my own, maybe organize the house and get my act together, but then my coworker Maren asked if she could take over as my roommate, and I agreed.
And it was great while it lasted. Maren hated the mess too, but she cleaned without shaming me. Even more, she hung out with me. She had her own life and friends, but she still liked my company.
Our living arrangement didn’t last long, though. Maren was always slated for bigger and better things. She quit Insomniacs after she started teaching music, got a record deal with a huge producer, and was able to move out. I was happy for her, though selfishly I wanted her to stay here always.
I’ve been on my own for several months now, and the state of the house is the first sign that I’m slipping back into those dark times. I know I need to do what I can to remain afloat, but it’s just so hard. I’m mortified at the way the house looks, but I can’t bring myself to do anything about it. Just thinking about someone else walking in here and seeing how I’d singlehandedly ruined the place is more than I can handle.
Brayden: Perhaps my friend here can entice you to join us.
I look at the text Brayden sent, my fingers itching to answer him, even though the best thing I could probably do is block his number. But I wait as the three dots appear under his text. Another photo comes through, this one of the horse he’d been riding on in her stall, and next to her is another horse—a horse I remember.
Meredith.
Nina: That’s my horse!
I grin, seeing my old friend on the screen. Every lesson, she was the one I rode. I fell in love with that pumpkin-colored mare. I’d brush her after every lesson, even though there were ranch hands who could unsaddle her and brush her down. But I wanted to spend every moment with that horse, braiding her mane and sticking flowers throughout the weave.
Nina: But how did you know? You weren’t at the ranch when I used to ride.
Brayden: I asked the horses, and Meredith whinnied the loudest.
I glare at the way he’s messing with me, then touch his name before holding the phone to my ear. He’s laughing when he picks up.
“Seriously. How did you know?” I ask.
“I asked my mom,” he says, still laughing. “She named off a few of the horses that were used for lessons, and Meredith was one of them. I just had this feeling she was the one, especially since her stall is right next to my horse.”
“Sara,” I whisper.