One
ANDIE
No one talks about the guilt that comes with watching your parent take their last breath.
I watched her chest crest with a weak and final inhale and pressed a hand on mine to confirm that my lungs were still moving.
Why were mine still moving, if hers weren’t?
I could feel my heart thumping rapidly inside my chest. But hers? It was still.
Her heart had given up, succumbing to the disease that slowly ate at her organs.
The emptiness inside my mom’s green eyes when she left this earth is forever ingrained in my brain. It’s an image I can’t scratch away, no matter how hard I try. I’ve mentally clawed at the cages her death built inside me, trying to understand how to live without a mother.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Who would I call when I needed to know how long to boil an egg for a perfect yolk? Even though I’ve made hardboiled eggs countless times, I always forget.
Who am I going to call when a boy breaks my heart?
She’d always tell me “Men don’t know what they’re doing half the time—just look at your father.” And I would hear him yell “Hey!” in the background and we would always laugh.
A hand grabs my shoulder, and I suddenly crash to reality, jerking my body as I sit straight and peer upwards. I shield my eyes and squint toward the sun to see Tori, my older sister, standing above me, concern evident in her eyes. Her white-blonde hair looks like a halo around her, her freckled face twisting as she stares down at me.
“Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I turn to the ocean and press my feet deeper into the sand, letting the warmth bring me back to earth. I rub my thumb over the tacky heart-shaped pendant that carries a piece of my mother and watch the crashing waves in the distance. The sun is hot and heavy in the sky, making my skin feel tacky. The humidity is also no joke here in Florida. I carefully did my hair this morning, only for me to step outside and have it frizz up, making my hard work futile.
“Cynthia is about to arrive. Please don’t make this awkward for anyone.”
“Why would I make it awkward?” Tori gives me a look, her lips pressed into a thin line.
I’ve already had the pep talks, coaching, and stern talking-tos on how to behave these next couple of weeks.
Don’t be mean.
Don’t be awkward.
Don’t be standoffish.
And don’t bring up Mom.
I heard it from Tori until we arrived late last night at this half-a-million shore-side beach house that Cynthia’s son owns.
Not just her son—my stepbrother, as of last month.
Despite walking inside this grand home last night and my sister and her little family ooohing and awwwing at the mansion disguised as a beach house, I went upstairs, found a room, and took a sleeping pill to pass the fuck out.
Everything is sunny, beautiful, bright—all that I am not.
I stand and brush the sand off the back of my thighs. I grab my book from the beach and trek back to the house, on my sister’s heels. She wears a light flowy dress that skirts across her knees, her hair cascades down her shoulders in beachy waves, and her tan skin is already kissed.
She looks like she belongs.
I glare up at the white mini-mansion that stands a couple of stories tall with long balconies that wrap around. Large palm trees reach high, offering a decent helping of shade from the fiery monster in the sky. To the left of the house, there is an in-ground pool with a bar, grill, tables with umbrellas, and lounge chairs. The water in the pool is the bluest I’ve ever seen, and it is enclosed by a glass fence that borders the shoreline.
I stare at the pool with something twisting inside my chest as we ascend the stairs. At the top, Dad stands against the balcony railings, a coffee in his hand, chatting with Alan, my brother-in-law.
“Cynthia’s nearly here,” he says, eyeing me.
Why is everyone looking at me like that?
Like I might yell. Cry. Run into the ocean and disappear into the rolling waves.
“So, I’ve heard,” I say, keeping my eyes on his. My bare feet burn against the wood that’s been baking in the sun all day, but I don’t do much to lessen the pain.
“You guys are going to love her, trust me. She’s a nice woman.”
She must be if she’s replacing Mom in a meager seven months after her death.
Dad smiles between my sister and me, and Alan grabs his shoulder and squeezes with a smile that reaches ear to ear. Alan’s sandy hair wisps in the wind and small creases form around his eyes.
As I reach the top of the stairs, Dad wraps his arms around my shoulders and squeezes me against his chest. I smile, trying to seem like a normal, happy daughter for once.
“How nice Reid must be to let us all stay here and pay for our travels,” Tori says as she plops down into a pristine white cushioned chair. She grabs a throw pillow from behind her and places it in her lap, tugging at the pilling threads. “How loaded is he?”
“Victoria,” Dad warns, shooting her a look.
“What? I know I’m not the only one thinking it.”
She isn’t, because I’ve been asking myself the same thing. The home has five rooms, three bathrooms, a family room, and a large kitchen with smart appliances—oh, and a game room where Fin, my nephew, has spent the entirety of his morning. I look around, taking in my surroundings. The pool and lawn are maintained professionally, and there’s not another beach house for at least half a mile, leaving us in a secluded area.
“He has done well for himself, and that’s all that matters. And I expect each of you, especially Finley who’s most definitely destroying the game room, to thank him personally for letting you stay here and pay for your roundtrip flights.”
“What does he do for a living?” Alan asks, looking out over the horizon with a beer in hand. It’s not even noon, but I’m questioning if I want one as well. I need to get these nerves ahold of before I make a fool of myself in front of Cynthia. I do want to try to keep the peace, for Dad’s sake, but damn, the anger that’s swirling inside is something I just can’t ignore.
As if Alan sees my desperation, he grabs a beer from the six-pack he has opened next to him and hands it over. I crack it and nearly chug it in five gulps. Everyone watches me but doesn’t say a word.
“He owns some sort of security company. I’m not too sure,” Dad says, eyeing me with uncertainty.
We hear a door open and shut from inside the home, and Dad lights up for the first time since Mom died. He turns and ushers us inside the house with waving hands, but not before giving me a look that tells me to be on my best behavior.
Cynthia stands at the entry with luggage in hand. She’s tall, slim with long blonde hair and tanned skin. Her bags are designer, and I’m sure her clothing is, as well. She wears a light pair of flowing pants and a yellow shirt that dips low on her chest, revealing the white bikini beneath. She’s beautiful, and when she sees Dad, her expression brightens instantly. Dad greets her with a warm hug and a kiss, and when their lips meet, I turn away. I swallow the lump in my throat and clear it, causing them to break away.
Cynthia turns toward us and smiles, but her eyes dart between us with curiosity.
“Cynthia, these are my daughters Andrea and Victoria. This is Tori’s husband, Alan. And their boy, my grandson Finley, is making use of the game room.”
As if on cue, small feet sound from the hallway, and soon comes the terror. A lanky sandy-haired boy growing into his awkward legs jumps into the room, bounces on his feet, and waves to the woman with enough excitement for the both of us.
“Are you my new grandma?” He asks with a wide smile.
Silence.
The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Cynthia just laughs and opens her arms, and Fin quickly falls into her hug like he used to with Mom.
“You can call me whatever you want, Finley,” she says, smiling down at him. She makes her way to everyone, offering hugs and warm greetings, and when she reaches me, she gives me a once-over.
“Lots of tattoos, huh?” She says with her smile straining. I look down at myself, dressed in jean shorts and a tank top, revealing quite a few black and grey tattoos across my skin.
“Cynthia—” Dad starts, but she waves him away with a manicured hand.
“It’s just an observation. Reid is the same way. From what your dad says about you, Reid and you will get along well.” She hugs me and I try to relax my body, so I don’t feel as stiff as a corpse. She gives me a final squeeze before letting me go.
“How do you guys like the home? Fancy, huh? I tried to convince him to go bigger, but he’s modest.” As Cynthia talks, Dad grabs her bags and disappears down the hall to their room, leaving us with his new wife.
She walks to the kitchen and grabs a wine glass and a bottle from a cabinet, her gold bangles clacking on her wrists in the silence. “I think we should celebrate. I know we got married fast and the wedding was…private, but I still want to share a cheers with my new kids.”
Fire burns inside my gut. “We aren’t—” Tori nudges my side sharply with her elbow and I glare at her.
“We would love that,” Tori says with her award-winning smile. She flicks her blonde hair behind her shoulder and grabs a glass that Cynthia poured the blood-red wine into.
“Ew, alcohol.” Fin turns up his nose to us and I chuckle. “I’m gonna go back to playing!” He announces as he turns on his feet and races back down the hall, his arms straight behind him as if the aerodynamics help his speed.
“When will Reid be here?” Tori asks.
“Probably tomorrow morning. He has some things to finish up first before coming here. He works way too hard.”
“You wouldn’t be able to enjoy his home if he didn’t,” I point out as I grab a glass for myself. I twirl the wine in the glass, stick my nose in, and inhale as if I know the difference between expensive and cheap wine.
It smells like…wine.
Cynthia gives me a look but smiles nonetheless as she holds her glass between us, and we follow suit, clinking the fine crystals together in the center of the island.
“Cheers, to a new family!”
