Absentmindedly I lean back on the kitchen counter and dry all the pots and pans after dinner. While Avery gets Jeremiah ready for bed, I let my meticulously placed mask fall off and feel the tears run down my face. I had no expectations when it came to mom’s recovery; I only had prayers and pleas, because life without her wasn’t something I wanted to think about. And now that she’s on the road to recovery, I often find myself crying in gratitude.

“Mom, I’m ready for you to come tuck me in.” Jeremiah’s shout has me hastily wiping my face, hoping my observant little man doesn’t ask me too many questions.

“I’ll be there in a minute, honey.”  

Walking through his bedroom door a smile spreads across my face at seeing him and Avery scanning his bookshelf together. Having my sister home is better than I expected. I became so used to our texting and Skype phone calls, I’d convinced myself our relationship hadn’t changed or suffered. But seeing the way she fits in so effortlessly has me more than thankful she decided not to move back to California. Seeing the way she is with Jeremiah, mom, and surprisingly Wes, emphasizes how much we would’ve missed her if things didn’t pan out this way.

“You two picked a book yet?” I ask interrupting their perusal. Jeremiah’s head whips around, and a smile reserved only for me lights up his whole face. Everytime I think I could never love my kid anymore than I do, my heart grows just a little bit more in size to accommodate the feeling.

“I told Aunty Ave she could pick, since I’ve already read them all.”

“That’s nice of you, bud.” I shift my eyes to Avery who is taking her selection duties very seriously. “The options that good, huh?”

“Shh, I’m concentrating,” she says.

Shaking my head, I walk over to the bed and pull the covers back, getting it ready for Jeremiah to jump in. “Okay little man, let me tuck you in bed and kiss you goodnight. Then you and aunt Ave can have reading time together.” He lifts himself up on the bed and centers his little body on the mattress. Stretching the blanket over his small frame, I fuss over him like only a mother can. Lowering my head, I kiss him on the tip of his little button nose. “How much do I love you, J?”

“More than life itself, mama,” he responds dutifully.

“And how long will I love you for?”

“Forever and a day.”

“Can you two be any cuter?” Avery interrupts. “I found the book I want to read, you ready?” she asks, looking at Jeremiah. Nodding enthusiastically he instinctively moves over making room for Avery to sit beside him.

“Alright you two, don’t stay up too late. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Heading straight for the shower, I let the water wash away the heaviness I seem to constantly be walking around with. Even though having mom home is all I’ve wanted, I can’t help but be emotionally overwhelmed with what it really means to have her here, in my home, walking and talking.

A knock followed by the sound of a door opening has me wiping down the steam of the glass shower screen and coming face to face with Avery.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I shriek.

“Oh, relax it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before, and I’m not even looking I just want to talk.” Reaching for the toilet seat, she pushes the lid down, preparing to make herself comfortable.

“For fuck sake Ave,” I say in irritation. “Can you just give me five minutes to shower in peace?”

“Calm down drama queen, I just wanted to talk about mom.” The dejected tone of her voice reminds me that in some situations being an adult doesn’t matter. I’m always going to be her older sister. The one she turns to for support, for answers and for protection; and this thing with mom is no different.

“I’m sorry,” I say, regretfully. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be out. We can talk about it all then.”

* * *

Writing up a list of things we should ask the doctor tomorrow, Avery puts her organized self to good use. Mom’s recovery has been smooth sailing for the most part, but occasionally weakness overwhelms her and we need to ensure she isn’t at risk of a repeat stroke. At her age, having a second stroke has extremely low odds for recovery and survival.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Avery asks for reassurance.

“Yes. She’s made it this far, and sometimes she insists on pushing herself harder than she needs to.” Leaning over, I give her knee a comforting squeeze. “Mom’s always going to be a fighter. She’s got this.”

With a loud sigh, Avery dramatically lets herself fall back onto the mattress.

“You and Wes seem like you’re in a good place.” I state, changing the subject.

“Is it horrible I’m so shocked at how good we are together?”

“You’ve hated him for a really long time, it’s understandable. But it makes me so happy that you’re finally seeing him for the great man he is.” After I had Jeremiah, Wes never missed an opportunity to be a great friend and help me out, no matter how many times I told him I was doing fine. He never voiced his reasons for reaching out, and eventually I didn’t care. His relationship with Jeremiah trumped every excuse I could come up with.

“What if it ends?” She asks. Her concerns are valid; relationships end all the time, even happening to the most solid couples. Avery may not be one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Wes is and there’s no way he’ll ever let her slip out of his grasp.

“Do you really believe that? You’re head over heels for one another, trust in that okay?” Looking over, I see her eyes are closed, an obvious indication there will be no more said on whatever’s going on between the two of them.

“You know, when I was on Timber there were a lot of eligible candidates,” she blurts out randomly.  

“You make it sound like an episode of The Bachelor.”

“Well, it’s kind of like that with dick pics.”

Confused by the direction of the conversation, I wait patiently for Avery to explain herself, “and what does this have to do with anything?”

“I just think dick pics have their purpose, and you should sign up.”

“Not going to happen.” Laughing and shaking my head, I point directly at her, “I can’t even take a shower by myself, as you would know, let alone find the time to talk to someone on a dating app.”

“But think of all the dick pics you could get.”

“I’m perfectly satisfied with my life,” I say, defensively. “I don’t have time to worry about a dick and the person it’s attached to.”

“And when do you worry about you? Actually, when was the last time you had sex?”

“This isn’t a conversation about me. We’re talking about you and Wes and how he’s got your panties in a twist. It’s a bit hypocritical you’re worried about me, when you wont let yourself have the exact thing you want for me.”

“Nobody asked for your logic,” she scoffs.

Catching me by surprise, Avery reaches behind me and grabs my cell off the nightstand. “Let’s get back to your non existent sex life and set you up on Timber,” she suggests, while effectively changing the subject.

“Ah no. Not going to happen.” I snatch the phone from her.

“Wait. Did I just see the app on your phone already? Oh come on Luce, we can find you a hot Magnus look alike.”

I ignore her observation and don’t bother explaining how prominent the thought of hooking up with someone for sex has been lately. I downloaded the app on a whim and have refused to pay it any mind since. “Really a Magnus look alike?” I huff at the impossible.

“What? You don’t think Magnus is hot?”

“Oh, I do. But can you imagine Wes and Magnus in a room together?” We both chuckle at Wes’ expense. There’s nobody that ruffles his feathers more than Magnus Andersen.

“Besides the fact that finding a Magnus lookalike is impossible, I don’t need anyone. Not even someone as gorgeous as Magnus,” I say, forcefully. “Can we go to bed now?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbles under her breath.

“That’s me,” I quip. “It’s called responsibility.”

As she walks toward the door, I throw a pillow, aimed for her head, hoping it shuts her up.

“Ouch. What was that for?”

“It didn’t even hurt you.”

“You never know,” she says thrusting her hips in the air, “some ‘Lumberjack Love’ could be exactly what you need.”

“What are you a sixteen year old boy?”

“Just think about it,” she insists.

“Ok,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll think about it. Can you leave me to go to sleep now?”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “I promise.”