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“He’s got a lot of plates in the air to juggle.”
“I know. Are you okay?”
“No, but I will be when this is over. You can’t call again.”
“I know, but he needs you. I feel it.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
“We will never have family get-togethers with your family. Just so we’re clear. Take care, honey.” She hangs up and I grab the remote to my fireplace and turn it on high. It’s cold and I’m chilled to the bone, which could be the ice cream, or maybe it’s all about my shitty family.
I start typing my column, which features a married couple, and a man who died saving his wife’s life only to have the family file a lawsuit against her for wrongful death. It’s an unheard of insane, first of its kind, case. My closing statement reads: What would you do for the one you love? What would you give up? This man sacrificed everything for his woman and not only did she lose the love of her life, she was tortured by his family, and this is torture. I hope they read this. I hope they can reach inside themselves and see that the pain they cause this woman doesn’t bring their family member back. It drives him deeper into his grave while the woman he loves, bleeds.
That closing wasn’t for Reese. It was for my fucked up family, who won’t even read it and doesn’t even know how much Reese means to me. If they did, they’d make him bleed.
Cat
Day twenty-four apart—Thanksgiving Day…
I retreat to the kitchen of Lauren’s busy house, leaving her and Julie, a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like who I am coming to really like, and a cluster of Walker brothers and staff that overwhelm the place. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and find the table empty. I claim a seat and set my phone on the table. It rings with my youngest brother, Daniel’s, number.
“Hey, Cat.”
“Hey,” I say. “Happy Turkey Day.”
“Happy Turkey Day. How are you?”
Considering I called him three weeks ago and told him everything about Reese, and the Maxwell family drama, we both know he’s not asking a generic question. “The same,” I say.
“No news at all?”
“Nothing. Are you with your girlfriend?”
“Yes. Heading to her family outing.”
My line beeps and the caller ID shows Gabe. “Go have fun. Gabe is calling, believe it or not.”
“Hell froze over and on Thanksgiving. We need to mark this on the calendar. Call me if you hear anything about anything and I will you, too. Take care, sis.”
He hangs up and I reluctantly answer Gabe’s call. “Hi Gabe.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah thanks. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”
“I just wanted to tell you that you are missed today. You can still come over.”
“I’m at a friend’s house.”
“Right,” he says. “Okay. For the record, I love you.”
I blanch. “You love me?”
“This is where you say: ‘I love you, too, Gabe.’”
“I love you, too Gabe.”
“Good. Next time you say it first. I’m the macho guy remember?”
