The Wrong Sister (25 page)

He didn’t return the smile. “You think? And you don’t turn me on all drunk and needy and oblivious to our daughter.”

She nodded. “That’s fair. What do you think? You can just divorce me and take up with my sister?”

“Not hardly. What I’d most like to do is skip all the shit and fighting and just admit this isn’t working. I mean, unless you feel differently. Unless the scowls and venom you send my way are really jealousy over feelings I might have for someone else. I don’t get that from you. I get the feeling you really just don’t want to lose your high maintenance lifestyle again. Isn’t this about the usual duration? How long your marriages usually last?”

She flicked some crumbs off the table and fixed her gaze on her hands as if she were accomplishing a scintillating task. “I don’t mean for them to.” Her tone lost its former hard edge. She glanced up. “I don’t mean to be such a bitch. Or get drunk. Or be so discontent. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve been saying that since I met you. You need to figure that out, Vickie. But no one can do it for you. And no one can tell you either.”

She sighed heavily. “The whole ‘complete yourself before anyone can be with you’ lecture’? Or ‘I have to love me before anyone else can’? I’ve heard them all. Gretchen spent years using her psychological mumbo-jumbo trying to teach me that. It never worked.”

“Do you want to be married to me?”

“I think I liked the idea. I want to want all of this. I even do sometimes. But not all the time. I half want the lifestyle I had when I was single, and I half want what I have when I’m married.”

“I’m sure you also get that’s impossible. Or, at least, it is with me. Maybe there is someone out there who would like it. Why don’t you try dating someone who matches what you want, and not what society tells you to want?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of it like that.”

“I never thought I’d end up like this.”

“What? Like me? Divorced? You’ll survive. It’s really not considered a medical condition.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re almost funny.”

“She won’t go for it, you know. The whole sister bond is pretty unbreakable to her. She has standards that I don’t. I’m not sure you’ll ever overcome them.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

She tapped a long fingernail on the table. “I think you even believe that. So what now?”

“Nothing. You said you need to go to rehab again. So go. You need to have a safe place to come home to. That’s here.”

“I’m not good as a mother.”

“You’re still her mother. I don’t want you to disappear one day like Micah and do that to her. I want you to do whatever you can to engage her. As much as you can. As consistently as you can. I’ll work with you. If you let me have full custody, you can visit her, or she you, as much or as little as you like.”

She held her forehead with her hand. “That makes me the worst person ever. What kind of mother would even contemplate that?”

He reached over and put a hand to her shoulder. “An honest one. If you will promise to never walk out on her, I’ll work with you anyway you want. You can be a mother when you want, and not when you don’t. Unlike the marriage thing, I can help you make it work.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because any part you play in her life will make it less traumatic for her. And if you start now, she’ll never really know any differently. And it’s more honest.”

“Yeah. We’re there.”

“I’ll pick up the slack. I’ll make up for what you don’t or can’t do. Plus, my mother, and…”

“Tracy?”

“No. Not right now. That’s not my intent. And frankly, I know it’s not what she wants.”

“So I can be a flighty mess, in and out, as long as I simply communicate to you what I want?”

“Pretty much. But no drinking. You can’t drink with Julia around.”

She nodded. “I intend to keep struggling to accomplish this. I know I failed at every relationship in my life, but I want this to work. I want to stay sober. I want to be in Julia’s life. I think, maybe, I can do it. But all my alcohol counselors say I’m not supposed to make any big life decisions the first year I’m sober. I think this probably would qualify.”

He nodded. “Do you mean a year from the first time you entered? Or now?”

She shrugged. “I guess we call it from the first time I entered rehab. It isn’t an exact science.”

“Seems fair. Seems like a good transition period for all of us. So, yeah. We can do that.”

“I don’t want you telling anyone what we agreed to do. My mom…”

“Still with that? Really? Your mother’s opinion. Why don’t you just be honest? She’s there for you, no matter what.”

“It works for us. And I still don’t want you telling Tracy. Not yet. Can you understand that?”

He snorted. “I think I understand that. She’s under the illusion you’re hopelessly in love with me and about to become a fragile, suicidal train wreck when you learn of what might exist between us.”

He backed away from the table, his heart lodging into his throat.
Was this for real?
They just decided… what? To divorce in six months time? But live together, as if not, until then?

She crossed her long arms over her chest and glared at him. “I’m not giving you my permission. Ever.”

He leaned towards her to kiss the top of her head. Then he leaned back, looked into her eyes, and finally smiled. “Yeah? Well, I’m never asking you for it. Ever.”

“You know, I control your destiny. She’ll never betray me unless I give her permission.”

“You could just let her know it isn’t a blood oath between you two; and although a little weird—”

“A little? It’s fucked up, Donny.”

“And who did I learn that from?”

She scowled hard at him before she finally laughed. “I miss this side of you. I don’t think you’ve been this way in months. I didn’t think you even remembered how to smile. I missed it.”

His mouth twitched. “I never said we didn’t have a good time.”

“She still won’t go for it.”

“I’m not asking you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe we’re discussing this.”

He sat down, finally. “I can’t believe we’re discussing it so rationally. That’s almost more fucked up than the situation itself.”

She threw her head back with a laugh and her hair cascaded down her back. “It totally is.”

“Do you want me to arrange for the rehab?”

“Would you? I would, but…”

He finally smiled. “I know.”

TRACY WENT OVER TO Vickie’s house first thing the next morning, only after she knew for sure that Donny had already left for work. There was a weird smirk on Vickie’s face as she opened the door wider. She looked worn out, with her hair all scraggly down her back, un-brushed, no makeup and kind of sick-looking around the gills.

“I’m going to rehab again. You don’t have to waste your breath.”

Tracy simply hugged her. “I’m glad. But I’m here because of what you said. Do you remember?”

She turned and flopped onto the couch. She had to push toys and coats aside to do so. “Sure. That you love my husband? I remember. Look, Trace, I was drunk and talking out of my ass. No one takes me seriously when I do that.”

“I do. I take all of that seriously. I quit working at the office. I’ll stay away from you both. I promise. I just wanted to say, I’m so, so sorry. It will
never
happen again. I just hope, someday, you can…” Tracy gripped Vickie’s hand tightly in hers. She had thin, long fingers and vein-y hands that were cold to Tracy’s touch.

“Damn. You’re dramatic. Go grab me some coffee and quit acting like you’re single-handedly responsible for the end of the world.”

“But—”

“But you want my forgiveness to feel better so you can leave me, and banish yourself in all your martyrdom. Screw that. Get me some coffee and aspirin for my headache, and sit your ass down and keep me company.”

“You want me to just stay here?”

“Yup. I feel like shit. I hate this part of it. You could clean up the pigsty here, if you felt like doing something to make up for kissing my husband.”

The fire that ignited on Tracy’s skin might have very well scarred her. She was shocked that Vickie would say that, or act so blasé about it. Like she wanted Tracy to stay there. Like she wouldn’t hate her forever.

“I should never have.”

Vickie stretched out and waved her hand around. “Don’t I know about that? All the things that I should not have done could fill a book. The coffee? Come on; don’t fail me again, big sis.”

Tracy felt surprised when a small smile started to blossom on her face.
Was she for real?
Her sister was okay being around her even though she admitted to kissing her husband? Was her sister, in her rude, apathetic way, asking Tracy to stay with her today?

“Vickie, first, I want you to hear me out.”

Vickie suddenly sat up and gripped her hand. “Damn it, Tracy, I do not want to talk to you about this. I talked to my husband, okay? We already got it handled. We actually can deal with things in our own way, between us. You don’t have to understand it, and I don’t have to tell you about it. Will you give me that?”

“I’ll give you that,” Tracy whispered, with downcast eyes. Tracy’s shame lodged like a rock in her stomach. She nodded and pressed her lips together. She was so sorry that all she wanted to do was fall at Vickie’s knees and apologize. But obviously, Vickie didn’t want to hear it. Although it would have made Tracy feel better, it would not have worked for Vickie. But… Tracy’s biggest shock was that Vickie didn’t seem to hate her.

“But I do want you to get me some coffee and sit your ass down. I’m hung over, but it’ll go away by this afternoon. Then I want us to do something. Otherwise, I’ll sit here all day, feeling sad and ashamed over what I did. I don’t like feeling that way. And I don’t want to do that all day. So, you can keep me company.”

“Are you for real? Who deals with this by hanging out with me?”

“Me. Now for the fifth time, go get my coffee and some aspirin. You owe me that much.”

Tracy started to turn, but hesitated at the entry to the kitchen, and added, “I’m not cleaning your house, however.”

Vickie’s grin of appreciation was quick. “Damn. It was worth a try.”

She came back with black coffee and three aspirin. Vickie took them with a swig of coffee and nodded for Tracy to sit. “So what about this boyfriend?”

“Jim? You want to talk about Jim?”

She shrugged. “Why not? Did you sleep with him? You do realize we never got to gossip about boyfriends and sex because you were always with Micah. Although we could compare my husband. Fun as that would be, let’s talk about Jim.”

Tracy’s cheeks would soon become permanently pink, she just knew it. Her sister’s anger, although very real and justified, seemed so tolerant. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Ooh, ouch. Fine? That’s a death nail. Dump him. Move on.”

“Why? He’s fun and nice to hang out with.”

“So is a dog.”

“I don’t want a dog.”

They stared at each other in silence. Yeah, Tracy knew what Vickie wanted to say next.
You want my husband.
But somehow, she restrained the urge. Instead, she said softly, “Don’t waste your time on ‘fine,’ Trace. This is your chance to live a little. Get out of the box your life used to be. Do it. Don’t waste it trying to be so safe.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s actually really good advice.”

Vickie smirked. “I do have some. I just don’t usually choose to apply it to my own life.”

She reached over and took Vickie’s hand. “So rehab again?”

Vickie sighed, “Even guilt doesn’t make you want to discuss sex with me? Always back to it, huh? Yeah, for now, that’s the plan… again.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Sit here. And don’t avoid me. That’s a shitty thing to do. And it’s pretty freaking wussy. I expect better of you than to hide from me like a naughty five-year-old. That’s my kind of move, not yours.”

She stared at their linked hands. “So you don’t want me to leave you alone?”

“No. I don’t. But maybe you could leave Donny alone for a while.”

She hung her head before finally lifting her face towards Vickie’s. “Yes, awhile sounds like the best plan.”

****

Tracy was jobless again. She refused Donny’s calls. He wanted her to come back to work, despite the drama surrounding them. She didn’t answer. She spent a few days with Vickie, however, trying to make up for not being the sister she felt she should have been. She was aware Vickie was using her a bit, and sometimes got a little petty while exploiting Tracy’s guilt. But Tracy was so grateful at Vickie’s reaction to what she did with Donny, that she gladly accepted her unwritten terms. She eventually even cleaned Vickie’s house and made her a few meals while happily taking care of Julia again. And wasn’t that the least she could do?

She thought so. Donny, however, did not. He called her, growling his annoyance that she refused to finish his important accounting work, but didn’t mind cleaning his freaking house? Especially, when Vickie was right there all the time, and perfectly capable of doing it? But Tracy just shushed him and hung up.

She broke it off with Jim. Vickie was right, it might have been better to not be with anyone than to settle or compromise. The companionship was nice, but she didn’t really enjoy the sex. And besides, the man didn’t deserve to be led on. Who knew she’d be the kind of woman to lead a man on? She was surprised to find herself in that role, and to learn that she hurt him. He said he was stung when she broke up with him. He thought things were great between them. So she blamed it on her husband, and said she still loved him, which was true, and that Jim was her rebound. Who knew she’d have a rebound? It sounded so “now,” and like something Vickie might have said. Tracy kind of hated being “now” and relevant and dating.

There was no way to totally avoid Donny. They were family, after all. When she finally sold the house, her father, mother, Vickie and Donny came over to help her pack and move all her things. She made sure not to be in any room alone with Donny for even a second.

It was yet another traumatic hurdle she had to get over. And every bit as traumatic as every holiday and birthday. She boxed up pictures and mementos from her life with Micah. There was no pretending it wasn’t devastating. She had to downsize, of course, so much of the furniture was sold or donated, along with household items, knick-knacks and clothing. She cleaned out her entire life as neatly as Micah wiped out her former lifestyle.

She had only one bad moment and Donny caught her. She was holding a box from her nightstand. Micah’s gun. She hated it. They had a rip-snarling fight the day he brought it home. She was only twenty-four years old, and usually deferred to him, a lot. Perhaps too much. But in that case, she did not. She refused to speak to him for five days. She came home with that very lock box and threw it at him from five feet away. He caught it before it clipped the side of his head. He again claimed he needed the handgun for protection, but she knew it was actually a macho way to pretend he was tough. The man didn’t hunt wild game, or have any other outdoor inclinations. He just wanted to feel like a big man. She was very worried her children would find it. Plus, what exactly did Micah intend to ever do with it?

Holding the box, the memories of the fight, the anger, and making up all flashed as clearly through her head as if she were watching a replay of it from a recording. It suddenly seemed so real. Micah’s voice. His tone. And his movements.

Donny paused at the bedroom doorway when he noticed what she was holding as well as the odd trance she was in. She remembered the scenario so clearly from ten months ago, when Micah sat on that very bed, staring at the gun. Thinking… longing… trying to muster the courage to kill himself.

Did he have that much remorse? Tracy truly didn’t know, and it tugged at her heart. Would it even have helped? Was his remorse, in its culmination to the point of Micah considering suicide, enough to atone for the pain of his actions after that? Why did he choose that path? If he were so riddled with guilt that he even seriously contemplated suicide, how could he then just turn around and leave her? Leave them?

She sat down on the bed, feeling like a brick lay sideways in her stomach. Sometimes, even after all the time that passed, the thought of what Micah did so shocked and hurt Tracy that it could still have floored her.

“Tracy?”

She jerked to attention at hearing Donny’s soft tone. He obviously didn’t want to startle her.

“You forgot to take this.”

He held her gaze as he stepped into her bedroom. He’d only ever been inside her bedroom before when he took that same gun from her. Again, he lifted the metal box from her lap. “How about I take it now?”

She nodded as fresh, hot tears filled her eyes. Jerking her neck around, she wiped her hand over her face. She could not cry. Not now, not after all this time. Not just because of hearing Donny’s soft, caring, understanding tone.

“I’ll pretend I don’t see your tears because I know that’s what you want. But just so you know, you’re better off now. Without him. Even having the capability to act as he did makes him a rotten son of a bitch. And totally undeserving of you. Move. Leave this house, and leave your memories of him right here, where they are. Leave your feelings for him behind and start over.”

She pressed the back of her hands to her eyes. “Good advice. It’s what I wanted to do; it’s just not that easy to convince my heart to feel what I know I should do.”

He reached over and set a hand on her shoulder. His hand felt warm and solid on her skin. He squeezed her, but she kept her face averted. Only for a brief second did she cover his hand with her own. Then he swiftly withdrew his as he straightened up and left, carrying Micah’s gun.

Tracy and the girls settled into Gretchen’s old condo rather swiftly. It had stunning views of the local community park, and further off lay the surrounding rim of mountains and residential rooftops. It was pristine and airy, and completely the opposite of the lake house. That was good, but weird.

Tracy tried to leave her memories at the lake house, but they still haunted her. The girls had the summer off and together, they spent a lot of time decorating as they settled into the condo. They did a lot more stuff together. Tracy wallowed in their company, and strangely enough, they did the same with her. They were glad to move, but it also made them all feel more vulnerable and kind of set adrift in the world. They soon realized they only had each other to count on.

Donny called Tracy in July to tell her he suggested her name to a colleague with regard to a sales position. The company was a large chain that sold a multitude of software systems to a variety of different fields. The job he suggested she interview for was the “point person” who dealt with many of the potential clients first. Donny knew the owner quite well, and wasn’t shy in talking Tracy up. The day she had the interview, she almost pitted out her blouse with sweat from her nerves. Luckily, her blazer covered her. She’d never gone to a job interview before. She was so nervous, she kept tripping over her words. But she smiled and the interviewer also smiled. She admitted upfront she didn’t know much about their product, but was eager to learn.

She landed the job, owing to Donny’s great reference and insistence, and also, as sexist as it sounds, because she was a woman. Donny explained that after the fact, however. The company was specifically hoping to increase the number of women as technology was more or less a male-dominated field, and not always politically correct. They wanted a friendly person who could do the job, and who also happened to be a woman. Donny said he was confident she fit both bills. Although a little offended, Tracy was also grateful, just this once, for reverse sexism.