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I cut her off. “We are perfectly fine not spending every weekend together,” I lie. “We’re not that codependent.”
She levels her stare. “That’s not where I was going with that.”
Before she can launch into questions about me and Raf and what we are, I steer the conversation in another direction. “So when will you be back?”
“Well, let’s see,” she hums, peeking at her notes, “You’re due December 28th. I’ll be back by late November, so even if your doctor has you induced, or you go into labor early, which is common for twins, I’ll be there.” The relief knowing my sister will be by my side gives more peace than I expect.
Even with three thousand miles separating us, I can see how much she’s grown into herself. When she first told us she was joining this midwifery program in Central America, I was naturally fearful. This girl didn’t even talk to us about it beforehand—she just signed up and committed herself out of nowhere. She would be gone one full year in a country we knew no one and nearly nothing about.
Well, not no one exactly. Rafael’s cousin Daniel knows a guy who knows a woman in Santa Catarina Pinula who’s keeping an eye on her. I guess they have breakfast together sometimes. That’s the best we have.
But maybe this was the right move for her. She’s been reliant on me for everything, and now here she is, living on her own—well, with a roommate from her program—making something for herself. It’s incredible to witness, but heartbreaking to be separated from.
“Good,” I tell her. “I know Dad misses you like crazy. Are you going to move in with him when you come back?”
“I don’t know,” she winces. “I’d rather live on my own, but I might have to.”
“Let me talk to Raf and see if you can live with us,” I offer without thinking, immediately chastising myself for not sticking to my boundaries.
“That’s really nice of you, but I’ll figure something out.”
Holy cow. Who has this girl become? But there’s a tiny scratch of uselessness etching itself in my heart at her words. You’re not her parent, I remind myself. This is a good thing.
“I don’t know, sis, living with Dad might turn out to be a healing experience now. You might get to hear him apologize to you too.”
“I’m so freaking jealous of you, by the way,” she says, her teeth peeking through her disbelieving smile as she crosses her arms and sits back in her chair. “That might be worth moving back home for. I can’t believe he’s in therapy.”
My gaze drifts from my phone screen propped against a candle on the coffee table to the silver words emblazoned on the bound book a few inches away.
The Journal of Zofia Dabrowski.
“Okay, I gotta run,” Ivy chimes back in. “I’m meeting my roommate for dinner.”
“Oh, sure. Have fun. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she smiles, then leans down to end the call.
Setting down my empty bowl, I then pick up the well-worn white journal and flip to where I left off in my fifth read-through near the beginning.
8/1
Hello my little peanut,
Your father and I got married today! But don’t you worry, we wanted to get married before we found out about you. I’m not sure what the future holds for us or what will happen to my college attendance, but what I do know is that no matter when you came to us, it would have always been the right time.
Your father looked very handsome today. I’m the luckiest bride. I love him so much it hurts. He brings me so much happiness and cares so much for me. He’s going to be the best dad. I hope one day you find someone as special as he is to me.
I can’t wait to meet you, my little peanut.
It would be nice if you let me go more than twenty minutes without needing to pee though.
Love,
Mama
Chapter 23
September 17th
