Chapter Two
Lila
“Lila, are you sure there aren’t bricks in these?” Maren asks as she hands Will the last of my boxes from the U-Haul.
“Where’s this one going? Your room and the spare room are full,” Will says, sweat beading on his forehead. The poor guy is earning his place in the family already, and he hasn’t even said his “I dos.”
I sigh, swiping a piece of hair out of my face, wanting to crumple to the pavement. I didn’t consider that all the stuff I acquired over the past few years was quite a bit more than what I had when I moved out of my parents’ house all those years ago.
Moving back in with your parents at twenty-nine is bad enough without having to solve dilemmas like where your extra boxes should go.
“Just put them in the shed,” my dad says, coming up behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes it, and I put a hand on his. “It’ll be okay, Lila Lou. We’ll figure this all out.”
I shake my head at his childhood nickname for me as I motion for Will to go ahead to the shed.
“Okay, are we finally done now? I’m exhausted,” Maren announces, wiping her hands as if she’s gotten dirty. She hobbles toward the house, yanking on my hand. “Let’s get inside. Mom said dinner’s almost ready. She made your favorite.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Maren eyes me. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not going into this whole emo, no-eating depression. I won’t have it. Now listen. I know this is a little shitty right now, moving back home—no offense, Dad—but it’s going to be fine. You made the right decision. It’s going to take some time to get back on your feet, but it’s all good. So come eat some damn food, drink some wine, and settle in.”
I grin. Only Maren can get away with telling it like it is and not offending anyone. She hobbles toward the front door, her red stilettos not exactly the best moving shoes. But that’s Maren for you—she could be dying of pneumonia and she’d be worried about what her hair looked like and asking for her six-inch heels.
Will emerges from behind the house, still sweating, the June sun pounding down on us.
“Thanks, Will. I owe you.”
“It’s not a problem. Seriously. Happy to help.” I smile at Maren’s fiancé as he readjusts his glasses, sweat now pouring from his forehead. The guy’s a desk job kind of guy, not a moving day kind of guy. Still, he was here bright and early, ready to haul away my life and put it back to the place where I started.
I’m glad my sister got a good one, a truly good one.
I follow Will into the house, his designer jeans and button-up looking a little crumpled from all the exertion.
But who am I to judge? My whole life is a bit crumpled right now. Moving back home at this stage of my life wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Neither was breaking up with the guy I thought was the love of my life.
He might still be. Because right now, this sure doesn’t feel like the right thing or the better thing or even the thing I want. It sucks, even if I put moving back into my childhood room aside.
But this is reality. We’re over, and I’m no longer the semi-independent grown-up I’ve been trying to be for years. I’m now the “I live at home” woman who will be staring at the bright turquoise walls of my childhood, Justin Timberlake posters still adorning every inch. I’d like to say I’m going to tear them down immediately—but the man is pretty hot, and right now, a hot man to keep me company in the coldness of my empty bed might not be a bad thing. Plus, this is temporary, I remind myself. It’s just a stopping point in this new, exciting journey.
I blow a strand of hair out of my eyes. The way things are looking, this is a stopping point only on the way to lonely old age. With my student loans needing to be paid off, going out on my own doesn’t even seem to be anywhere on the horizon.
Maren offered to let me move in with her and Will, but I didn’t really want to cramp her style. Living with soon-to-be newlyweds just seemed a little creepy. There’s also the problem that her apartment doesn’t allow dogs, and I’m not leaving the only true, loyal man in my life behind.
“Hey, big guy,” Will says as Henry rushes down my parents’ stairs to greet him for the tenth time today. He doesn’t care that Will’s been in and out of the house already. He still gets as excited as if he’s someone new.
I try to get a hold of Henry’s collar so he doesn’t knock everyone down, but it’s no use. The two-hundred-pound dog plows through, almost knocking me to the ground when he bumps against my knees. Just what I need—a broken leg on top of it.
One look at that droopy face and happy, wagging butt reminds me why I chose my childhood room and Mom’s overbearing tendencies versus a life without Henry.
Although Maren promptly told me I better get on finding a sugar daddy—and soon—because she firmly believes Mom is going to drive me mad.
It’s certainly possible.
Right now, though, I’m too tired to consider all the ridiculous antics my mother is sure to pull. I follow my family upstairs to the kitchen where Mom and Grandma are already setting up for dinner.
Despite my fears and the embarrassment, I sigh, telling myself it’s all good. This was the right choice. It’s going to be fine.
Now I just have to hope my faux positivity speaks to the universe and all that trippy stuff. We’ll see.
“There you are, honey. How’s it going? Can I get you anything? Need any help organizing?” Mom asks, rushing at me and talking a mile a minute.
“Mom, give the girl room to breathe. She’s going through a breakup, not paralysis. She can manage,” Maren says, and Mom rolls her eyes at her.
“I’m just worried about her. She’s not getting any younger, you know,” Mom notes, clutching at her chest for dramatic effect. The woman should have been an actress on daytime soap operas instead of a secretary. She’s got a flair for the dramatic.
“I don’t think that’s helping things, Lucy,” my dad warns, giving her a look.
Grandma is parked at the kitchen table, her Pomeranian on her lap although Mom constantly tells her dogs do not belong at the table.
But Grandma doesn’t listen to sensibilities like these, and she certainly doesn’t listen to my mother. Which absolutely drives my mother mad.
Henry approaches Grandma and Cookie, who emits a vicious growl, and Henry erupts in a barking fit. Grandma chuckles as Cookie snaps at Henry’s nose, and Henry darts around the table, hiding in fear for his life despite the obvious size difference. Mom and Dad argue in the corner of the kitchen about whether Luke should be mentioned, the volume rising to a level above the barking of the dogs.
Maren and Will are making out in the corner like he’s just come back from war, and I quickly avert my eyes so I don’t see something I won’t be able to unsee. Maren’s bold, but I didn’t think an accountant would be so shameless at a family gathering. I guess Maren really does bring out a different side of him, as he claimed during their crazy romantic proposal last December.
My head swirls as I try to figure what to take in and what to block out. It’s like I’m lost in the kitchen, my family going right along without me. I’ve been left behind, the Lila without Luke not worth noticing.
I guess that’s okay because right now, I’m not 100 percent sure who the Lila without Luke even is. It’s crazy how a few years together and suddenly I’m no longer just one person anymore. My identity melts into his and when I try to separate them, there’s residual effects of him marked in me and on me. I’m not quite who I was before.
I shake my head, reminding myself I’m lucky. I’m going to get through this. I can do this.
Looking around at my crazy family, I realize I am lucky and I do love them.
But I don’t know how anyone could survive them.
And then it happens. During the chaos, the smoke detector goes off, and everyone looks to my parents.
“Oh shit,” Mom exclaims, rushing to the stove where the lasagna was cooking. Grabbing potholders, she whips open the oven to pull out dinner.
Black smoke billows through the kitchen.
Grandma screams, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
Mom swears. Dad rushes to open windows, and Henry starts dry-heaving while Cookie barks loudly.
Yep. Things are going just swell.
How long until I can move back out?
***
“Oh, Harvey, you know I like to get a look at the delivery boy. How am I going to rate him on my scale when you didn’t let me answer the door?” Grandma whines. “I even put on my red lips, my good Avon lipstick, because I knew he would be coming. What a waste.”
“Mom, they have to keep sending a new pizza delivery boy here because of the inappropriate comments you keep making. No more answering the door. You know the rules,” Dad replies, shaking his head at Grandma, who is leaning against the counter now, pouting.
Grandma winks at me. “There are quite a few nice-looking ones at that Phil’s Pizza. Next time we order, make sure you get a look. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a new man.”
I shake my head, but can’t help but grin. Grandma Claire is one of the bright spots of moving back home. I’ll get to spend more time with her, and she’s definitely a firecracker for her age.
Maren, Will, Mom, Grandma, and I gather around the table as Dad dishes out paper plates.
“Sorry I ruined your welcome home dinner, Lila. I wanted things to be perfect,” Mom admits, looking truly disheartened.
“It’s fine, Mom. Pizza is great,” I reply as she leans in to put an arm around me. The lasagna, black as coal and still smelling pretty nasty, simmers on the top of the stove, Henry stupidly eyeing it with drool flying out of his mouth. That thing is so burnt, I think it’s going to be lava-hot for at least a week. And that pan is definitely garbage.
In truth, we were all expecting pizza for dinner, even if our naivety let us believe we were eating home-cooked lasagna. Mom’s never been a great cook, although she certainly tries. We just aren’t brave enough to bring it up. We always let pizza be the backup and pretend like we’re so shocked when the delivery man comes. Let’s put it this way, though—Grandma Claire’s rated a lot of pizza delivery boys over the past few years since she moved in with Mom and Dad. A lot.
We gather around, exhausted from a day of moving and lugging heavy boxes. I’m exhausted emotionally as well.
I nibble on a slice of cheese pizza, trying to remind myself this is good. Sitting around the table with family is great. I have a perfectly fine life without him.
“How many more days until the wedding, Maren?” Grandma asks after taking a bite of pizza. Maren pours us all a glass of wine, and Grandma motions for her to keep pouring. Mom shakes her head. Grandma’s not really supposed to drink with her heart medicine, but that’s never slowed her down. Italian to the core, she loves herself a good wine with dinner—every night. I think Mom’s just resigned herself to this and given up.
“One hundred thirty-one,” she says, a huge grin lighting up her face as she scrunches her nose at Will.
They’re so in love it should make me sick. It doesn’t though. I’m happy for my wild-child sister. To be honest, I never thought she’d settle down. More than that, I never thought she’d settle down with an accountant who loves reading and Sudoku. Still, the two of them together balance each other out. When they look at each other, happiness seems to pour out of them in a sickening concoction of sweet and passionate.
I look up from my plate to realize everyone is silently gauging me, to see if I’m going to get upset.
This just frustrates me. “Okay, guys, I’m going to be fine. You don’t have to tiptoe around me. I love you all for looking out for me, but I’m fine. Seriously.”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Grandma says, feeding Cookie a piece of pepperoni. “She’s still got time to find a new one so she has a date for the wedding.”
“Grandma, that’s not helping,” Maren says. “Although, I do know this great guy….”
“Okay. We’re done here. No one is setting me up. I’m fine, really. There’s nothing wrong with being single until I can figure things out.” I reach for my napkin to wipe some pizza grease from my face, hoping to hell this conversation is shutting down.
“Amen,” Dad says.
“Truth. Men are overrated. Although after so long without sex, it does get a little lonely,” Grandma chimes in, and everyone simultaneously groans as the word “sex” comes out of our grandma’s mouth.
She just chuckles and shrugs.
“Just make sure you don’t end up a spinster, okay?” Grandma adds, and I grimace.
“Oh stop. She won’t be a spinster. Before you know it, she’ll be engaged to a hot hunk who deserves her. This is just a rough patch,” Mom says.
At this, it is my turn to groan. An edge infiltrates my voice as I respond, “Mom, please just stop.”
“I know, honey. But you two were so… different. I think this is going to be such a good thing. You’re going to find someone who can actually fit you. A good doctor or lawyer or something.” She’s making the serious face at me, a mixture between the duck face and the Mom glare.
“You know, different isn’t a bad thing. And really, Mom? Doctors or lawyers? Are we doing arranged marriages now?” I ask, still feeling the need to defend Luke and me like I have so many times.
“You’re going to need something different after about two weeks of this. Hell, you might even beg for an arranged marriage if it gets you out of here,” Maren whispers to me, gesturing her wine glass toward Mom.
“I heard that,” Mom says.
“I know,” Maren says.
“Ladies,” Dad says.
And so the bickering, arguing family is back, shoving pizza in their mouths, being way too loud, drinking too much wine, and yelling at Grandma for more inappropriate comments.
“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” I ask Will when my family is engaged in a battle about whether cousin Wilma should, in fact, be invited to the wedding despite the refrigerator fight from two years ago.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” he whispers, smiling. “But listen, if you ever need a break, we have an open guest room. I’m sure we could sneak Henry in for a day or so.”
“Thanks,” I say, meaning it.
“Oh, and Lila?”
“Yeah, Will?”
“It is going to be okay, you know. You’ll see. You’re a strong woman, just like your sister, even if you don’t think so.”
I smile, thankful there’s at least one sane person going to be in our family. Or at least sane until the family gets their hooks into him.
But thinking about his words, I’m not so sure he’s right. Because no matter how much I tell myself I’m going to be happy or that this is the right thing to do, as I crawl over the pathway of boxes in my childhood bedroom and stare at the bright walls and Justin Timberlake later that night, I wonder how many more days I can manage this new life. I wonder what Luke’s doing.
Most of all, I hear the word “spinster” circulating in my head, and I wonder if this whole breakup was even worth it at all.