CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Theresa had always been good with lists. Checking items off a list had made her feel accomplished, in control, and confident. She wasn’t sure a list was going to help with this—the crawl space in Alicia’s house. It was first on the list of things to do in order to get the place in shape to be put on the market.
“This is that last thing I want to do right before I leave to go to the other side of the world, but it’s not going to happen by itself. And I didn’t want to wait until I sold the house to have to deal with all of this,” Alicia said. “There’s so much of it. The furniture and stuff like that I can handle. Some of it’s going to go with me, and I’ll sell the rest. But all of this . . .”
Theresa laughed as she peeked into the long, dusty corridor festooned with spiderwebs. Boxes, some labeled but most not, lined the space, along with odd things like an old laundry hamper, some ancient baby toys, and a high chair. Other things she couldn’t identify in the shadows. “It’s a lot of stuff.”
“So-o-o-o-o much stuff,” agreed Alicia with a sigh.
In preparation for cleaning out the crawl space, Theresa had tied her hair into twin braids. She tugged both of them now and looked again into the crawl space, judging how low she’d have to stoop to avoid hitting her head. “Lots of people hang on to things for a long time.”
Alicia groan-laughed. “Yeah, thanks, Mom and Dad.”
“My dad never kept anything, really. He was always selling stuff to make some extra money.” Theresa moved into the crawl space, ducking to keep from hitting her head on the slanting beams. “And we moved a lot. I was always ready to go, ready to take only what was absolutely necessary. I got used to keeping only what seemed really important.”
Alicia followed her. “That must’ve been hard.”
Theresa had never spoken much about what it was like to live with her father back in the day, and definitely not to Alicia. They’d known each other for a long time, but only now was there the beginning of any closeness. Funny, she thought, how things could change.
“It was, sometimes. But it taught me the importance of figuring out what was really important and what wasn’t. Now I think it’s kind of nice.” Theresa shot a glance over her shoulder as she pulled up a rickety stool painted in primary colors and decorated with the alphabet. Behind it was a stack of boxes. She touched the top one. “Almost losing all the stuff in my storage unit actually reminded me of what it was like not to hold on to anything so hard. You can’t miss losing it if you’re not that attached to it in the first place, you know?”
“Or if you don’t know what it is, in the first place,” Alicia added. “Maybe I should just toss all these boxes without even going through them. I mean, if I haven’t missed anything in them for the past twenty years—and my parents sure haven’t—that says a lot, doesn’t it?”
“If that’s what you want to do. It would be a lot less work, for sure.” Theresa shrugged.
Alicia sighed and shook her head. “Nah, I should at least make sure there’s nothing important. When I told my mom I was going to sell, she did remind me that all this junk was in here. She didn’t ask me for any of it, specifically, but . . . I don’t think she would. She’s the one who packed it all away to begin with.”
“It was hard for her,” Theresa said.
Alicia gave her a look. “It was hard for all of us. It might’ve been easier if she’d been able to face it. She hasn’t ever, I don’t think. Not really.”
Theresa had not been the one to lose a sister or a daughter. She could make no judgment about how Alicia’s mom had reacted to Jenni’s death, not without sounding like a jerk. She grabbed a box, instead, swiping at the top to see if there was a label or something to indicate what was in it. Nothing. The tape closing the top had gone brittle and crumbling. She sneezed a few times, her eyes watering and throat itching.
“Hey, at least they’re not covered in mouse poop,” she said lightly as she coughed a bit from the dust.
“Thank God.”
Alicia grabbed the top box and started backing out of the crawl space. Theresa grabbed another and brought it out with her. They put both boxes on the floor next to the bed and sat. Alicia flipped open the lid of hers first, peering inside.
“Get the garbage bags ready,” she said.
Theresa chuckled. “Uh-oh. What’s in there?”
“Looks like old school artwork and report cards. My mom must’ve kept everything both of us ever brought home.” Alicia twisted the box to look at the side. “She dated it. That’s good. Doesn’t say exactly what else is in here, but at least there’s some idea of the time frame.”
Alicia didn’t pull anything out of the box, though. Just continued looking into it. Theresa studied her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be okay. It’s Jenni’s stuff. That’s all.” Alicia looked up with bright eyes and a pinched smile. She tugged out a piece of faded construction paper and held it up so Theresa could see the scrawled childish signature on the bottom.
Theresa wasn’t sure what to say. Offering to simply toss everything didn’t seem like the best suggestion. It would’ve made her seem cold in a way she wasn’t, really, even if she could only imagine what it must be like for Alicia to come across these reminders.
“When I was younger, I was glad to be an only child. It seemed easier. Dad never had much money, and I feel like I was very aware that if I’d had to share anything—his finances, his time, or attention—it would’ve meant less for me. But after I moved across the street,” Theresa said quietly, “I started to wish for a sister. I wasn’t that keen on the brothers I got, but watching you and Jenni, I figured having a sister must be like having a built-in best friend.”
Alicia’s smile broadened. “Jenni and I were kind of awful to each other when you lived next door. We fought a lot.”
“Awful in the way that sisters are to each other. I remember her being so angry because you’d borrowed her sweater,” Theresa said, then paused. “She came running down the street toward the bus stop, screaming at you, and she chased you around in a circle until the bus came.”
“She’d have punched me and ripped that sweater right off me, if she could’ve.” Alicia laughed harshly, shaking her head at the memory. “Wow, I forgot about that. I loved that sweater, and I was mad because she got it for her birthday and never wore it. It didn’t even fit her, but it looked great on me. She just didn’t want me to have it. And that’s what you wished for?”
“Not the fighting and the screaming, but she also French-braided your hair for you. I envied that. My dad was terrible with girlie hairstyles, and mine was always so curly it was impossible to do anything with.” She flipped up the ends of her thick braids, which sported tiny springs and coils of hair escaping the plaits. “She offered to teach me how, once.”
“She did? That was nice.” Alicia smiled. “I thought we were kind of terrible to you, sometimes.”
“You were?” Theresa’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I never thought so.”
“You were a Stern. We were kind of terrible to Ilya and Niko, so you got lumped in with them. You don’t remember?”
“No.”
Alicia gave an exaggerated wipe of her brow. “Phew. That’s good. I felt bad about it, sometimes, later. After you’d moved away. Like we could’ve been nicer to you.”
“I don’t remember you not being nice, so don’t worry about it.” Theresa looked in the box she’d brought out. Hers was also stuffed with papers and folders. She glanced at Alicia. “All of that was a long time ago, anyway. But sometimes I do still wish I had a sister.”
“I was lucky. We fought. Jenni could make me crazy. But she was a good sister. I miss her,” Alicia added matter-of-factly. “I always think that one day I won’t anymore. But I still do.”
After a beat of solemn silence, Alicia leaned over to pull out a handful of papers and started sorting them. Theresa dug in to her own box and began sorting things quickly into piles. Artwork, report cards, handwritten notes, miscellany. She glanced up to see Alicia giving her a bemused look.
“You’ll have to decide what stays and goes,” Theresa explained with a gesture at the piles and another small sneeze. Her allergies were starting to act up. “But I can sort them into some kind of order for you.”
Alicia looked impressed. “You’re very efficient.”
“One of my talents.” Theresa grinned. “Or flaws, depending on how you look at it. I know it’s been making Ilya kind of crazy.”
The words hung between them. Awkward. Theresa cleared her throat, thinking she’d try to explain them away, but Alicia waved a hand.
“I believe it. He’s never exactly been very organized.” She tilted her head to look at Theresa. “Hey. How is it going, by the way? You can talk to me about it. It’s not a secret.”
Buying the diner wasn’t, anyway, but there was a secret Theresa wasn’t yet willing to reveal. It had been a week since Ilya had put her up against the prep counter. A week since he’d kissed her, been inside her. They hadn’t talked about it since then. Only about the diner, the lists, the chores and tasks.
Theresa sat back, leaning against the bed. “It’s going all right. He’s full of big ideas about the business. I’m the one who makes the lists. Keeps it in line. But I think it’s going to be great, actually. Kind of a checks-and-balances thing.”
Alicia nodded. “That’s good. I always loved the diner. I’m happy you guys bought it. I’m glad working with him is going all right. It can be frustrating. I know.”
Theresa thought again of the night in the diner kitchen. Ilya’s hands on her. His mouth. Heat flushed through her, and she sorted through some more papers so she wouldn’t give any of that away. It wasn’t going to happen again because she wouldn’t let it, so it wasn’t like she had to own up to anything. Not even to Alicia. Especially not to her.
“But when he really wants something, he can be focused. He will work hard, when he thinks it’s worth it,” Alicia said after a few minutes of silence while they sorted papers.
Theresa paused in sorting a file full of fourth-grade essays to nod thoughtfully. “Yeah. I see that in him.”
“Ilya’s worst enemy can be himself. He thinks he’s a screwup, and don’t get me wrong, he can be.”
“We all can be,” Theresa said.
Alicia laughed. “Truth. But Ilya does have the ability to pull things together. He’s smarter than he wants to think he is. I think because he didn’t go to college, he wants to pretend like he couldn’t go. Not that he made some dumb choices and didn’t.”
“Going to college isn’t my standard of excellence,” Theresa said. “I went to college for accounting, and I’ve never been an accountant. Nor have I worked for one. All I did was spend a lot of money on a degree I’ve never used.”
“I think about going back to school. Getting a degree in something. I just don’t know what.” Alicia shrugged, her hands full of more elementary-school artwork. “For now I’m going to focus on getting this house on the market and my trip to Scotland.”
“Exciting,” Theresa said. “Tell me all about it. You’re going to Loch Ness, right?”
They spent the next hour or so chatting and sorting through the boxes, discarding years of old papers and keeping only the ones Alicia felt she couldn’t part with. Most of the boxes were easily sorted, although some of them contained years of financial paperwork and things that Alicia said she’d need to clear with her parents before destroying. Overall, they managed to clear away ten whole boxes and fill four trash bags before Alicia declared they should quit.
“I need a shower, and then Niko and I are going out to dinner. You want to come along?” Alicia took a long gulp of water from her glass.
Theresa shook her head, which had started to throb a little bit with what felt like the beginnings of a sinus headache. “Oh, thanks, but no. I don’t want to be the third wheel. And I told Ilya I’d meet him later tonight to go over some things for the diner.”
“On a Saturday night?” Alicia made a face. “There’s a shocker.”
Theresa paused before saying, “Yeah, he’s usually got something going on.”
“He must really be into making this business a go. Saturday night I’d expect him to be out, that’s all.” Alicia shrugged and closed the lid on the single box they’d been using to store all the things she’d decided to keep. She glanced up.
Theresa kept her expression neutral. “Maybe he’ll go out after.”
“Probably. He’s a revolving door.” Alicia shook her head, but something in Theresa’s face must’ve caught her attention. “Sorry, was that too rude? I sound like I care about his love life, but I really don’t.”
“Especially not since you’re dating his brother,” Theresa said lightly.
Alicia made a small noise. “Wow. Sheesh, Theresa.”
“Sorry,” Theresa said. “That came out wrong.”
“No, you’re right. I am with Niko. I shouldn’t give a second thought to what Ilya does. You’re right.” Alicia clapped both her hands onto her thighs. “It’s an old, bad habit, and I should quit it. It’s not any of my business whose hoo-ha hole he puts his dingle in, as the saying goes.”
Theresa forced a smile, wishing she could laugh at Alicia’s deliberately silly choice of words. “Nope. Not mine, either.”
“Hey, let’s toss this garbage, and I’ll get this box out of the way so you’re not tripping over it.” Alicia glanced at the wall clock. “I have to get moving. You sure you don’t want to grab dinner with us? There’s live music tonight at the Brewhaus.”
“No, really. I’m fine. I’ve got that meeting at the diner, and I want to put together a few lists—” She broke off when Alicia laughed, then joined her. “Hey, I’m organized! There’s a lot to do!”
Together, they cleaned up the mess, and each took two bags of trash out to the curb. Alicia went in to use the shower, while Theresa lingered, looking across the street. Ilya’s car wasn’t in the drive. Although it was nearly seven, dusk had not quite started to fall. The windows in the Stern house were dark.
She had her phone in her pocket, but she didn’t pull it out. She wasn’t going to text or call him to find out where he’d been. They’d agreed to meet at the diner at eight so they could go over some upcoming tasks, and he’d promised to bring takeout. There was nothing else she needed to know about where he was or what he was doing.
Maybe I want you to care.
His words poked at her as she went upstairs to the room that had not yet started to feel like her own, and now never would. She picked out a pair of jeans and a pretty top from the drawer as she listened for the sound of the shower shutting off. She glanced at her phone, telling herself it was to check the time, but really seeing if she’d somehow missed a text from Ilya.
“Do not do this,” Theresa muttered as she searched for a pair of socks, clean panties, and matching bra. “You’re not that girl.”
And the thing of it was—the terrible, truthful thing was—Theresa was not that girl. She’d never been that girl. Even after three years of presumable happiness with Wayne, she hadn’t so much as cast a second look over her shoulder when she left him. If she’d had regrets, it was that she’d hurt him enough to cause him to kick her out, not that she’d decided she couldn’t marry him.
So why, then, did thinking about Ilya feel like regret?
A missed chance not taken, an inevitable desire to have another. Theresa had never seen the point of looking behind when all that mattered lay in front of her. So why, then, now?
Because people could change, she thought. But usually they didn’t.