“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. I’m sorry I intervened.”
She winces. “No. It’s fine. I wasn’t upset that you offered to drive me. I appreciate the offer. It’s just that . . . I don’t like Frank. He’s not a good influence on Jacob.” She rubs the side of her head. “Maybe they aren’t a good influence on each other. Anyway, I was hoping if hehadto drive me, he wouldn’t be spending the day drinking with Frank.”
She leans forward and spears a piece of chicken with her fork but doesn’t eat it, just stares down at it.
“Ah. Well if you want, I could make up some excuse.”
She considers and then shakes her head. “No. We’ll fight, he’ll drop me off early and pick me up late, if he remembers at all, then use it as an excuse to go on a bender for the rest of the weekend.” She sticks the chicken into her mouth and chews for a second.
“How long have you been dealing with this?” I’m not sure if she’ll answer, but I’m curious enough to risk it.
“Actually, he didn’t drink much until Dad died, but since then, it’s gotten progressively worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” She sets her fork down and stares at it. “The problems really started when he was fifteen.”
“Fifteen?”
“That’s when Aria died. They were twins.” Her gaze shutters.
I conjure the image of the photos lining the halls upstairs. I knew she had a big family, I knew her parents were gone, but I didn’t realize she had lost a sibling. And so young.
Before I can offer any kind of trite condolences, she continues, her gaze focused on her plate.
“Willow was Aria’s best friend,” she explains.
“I was wondering about that. She seems like a nice person. I couldn’t figure out why he was avoiding her.”
“He’s avoiding her because he avoids any kind of conversation that might relate to anything about Aria. He never speaks about her at all. I don’t think I’ve heard him so much as speak her name in the past ten years.”
“It must cause him a lot of pain.”
“Oh, yeah.” She slumps back in her seat. “He almost didn’t graduate from high school. If it wasn’t for Dad and me pushing him all the time, he probably would have dropped out. Then he wanted to join the military at eighteen, but we worried it was because he had a death wish. He stayed because Dad got sick, and he helped to take care of him, which kept him focused on something else. And now . . .”
“Now he’s using alcohol as an escape.”
She picks up her napkin and rubs the corner between her fingers. “I wish I could, too, sometimes.”
“Problems don’t go away when we avoid them.”
“Don’t I know it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload that on you. Aren’t you glad you came over for dinner?” She releases a short laugh. “I better clean up.” She stands, picking up her plate.
I follow her lead, getting up and gathering the remaining dishes.
We carry everything into the kitchen. She stores the leftover food in the fridge, and I start on washing the dirty dishes.
“I can finish up.” She stops next to me at the sink.
“You cooked; I can clean. Fair’s fair. If you want to go relax, go. I can handle a few dishes.”
“Thank you. I’m pretty wiped. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Sounds good. What time do you need to leave?”
“Nine thirty or so.”
I nod, and she disappears.