D uring my walk to the motel, I look out over the sleepy city. The brick buildings along Main Street are the same ones from my childhood, although they have had their paint, awnings, and decor updated over the years. From the general store that opened during the height of prohibition to the pharmacy that hasn’t been renovated since the 1950s, everything about Lake Wisteria is familiar. Picturesque. happy
I didn’t think I would see the city again. When I swore never to return, I made peace with never returning to the one place I always felt at home. It wasn’t the place itself, but a special person who made him feel that way.
While Lake Wisteria and its three hundred residents were warm and welcoming, Lana Castillo was the only reason I returned to the lakeside town every summer.
At least until he made me promise never to come back.
For good reason.
My chest tightens. I speed past the shops at the end of the street and turn left toward the Route 66-inspired motel, with an illuminated sign advertising telephones, color televisions, and air conditioning. It’s like I’m transported back to a time when women didn’t have the right to vote.
fabulous _
The hum of vintage neon light fills the silence as I get out of my car and walk toward the office in the lower corner of the motel.
A woman I don’t think I’ve met before gives me the worst eye and a metal key to the dirtiest room in the place, and I’m pretty sure both were on purpose. If it weren’t for the stocked mini fridge filled with a good selection of alcohol, I would have passed this traumatic experience entirely. I drain the last shot of vodka from my flask before grabbing the best mini bottle of vodka from the fridge.
I tend to make bad decisions when I’m under pressure. Choices that usually lead to me getting so drunk that I forget why I started drinking in the first place. It’s a shitty coping mechanism, but I usually only have two modes: take small sips from my flask throughout the day to calm my anxiety or get beat up because I can’t stop drinking. The latter usually happens only once or twice a week, depending on the stressors, but when it happens, I’m out of commission.
I can feel in my bones that tonight will be one of those nights. In a last-ditch effort to stop a panic attack, I call Iris.
“Hey what’s up?” Iris’s yawn makes the speaker crackle. I can always count on my sister-in-law to answer the phone at any time of the day or night. I may drive my older brother crazy, but Iris was my best friend long before she became Declan’s wife less than a year ago, so I have exclusive privileges.
“I’m currently staying in a motel straight out of a true crime episode. Literally.” I closed my eyes as if that would erase the memory of the stains on the carpet.
“What happened to sleeping at the lake house tonight?”
“Turns out Grandpa forgot to mention that Lana still lives there.” “Are you talking about Lana ?”
“The only one. Plot twist: he has a son he had no idea about.” I drink the rest of the vodka in the mini bottle.
Since when has drinking solved any of your problems?
I’m not looking to solve them. I’m trying to lull them to sleep .
Iris takes a breath. “When was the last time you had sex with her?” “Around when she got pregnant, give or take a month, I guess. “I didn’t pull out a calendar and ask for the kid’s birthday before Lana kicked me out.”
“Wait. You don’t know if the child is yours or not?”
I rub the sleep from my eyes. “When I tried to clarify, she wasn’t exactly willing to talk about it.”
Iris curses under her breath. “Does the boy look like you?”
“His hair is a little darker, but his eyes match mine almost perfectly.”
She gasps. “Is she a girl?”
“Surprise.” I throw the bottle in the direction of the trash can, but thanks to my stinking aim, it lands a foot away. There’s a reason I played hockey over basketball, and it shows.
“There’s no need to freak out yet. You don’t even know if the child is yours.
“Lana didn’t take too kindly to me when I hinted that she might be.” Suggesting such a thing was not my finest moment. Neither was my comment about her sleeping with someone so soon after we broke up, but I let my emotions get the best of me.
You have no right to be mad at her for what she did after you ended things.
Easier said than done. I’m not the type of person who normally gets jealous, but I feel it rotting inside me, looking for a way out. “Please tell me you didn’t ask him that.”
“Well. I won’t. I look in the mini fridge for another bottle. Since I already cleaned the fridge of all the vodka, I’m stuck choosing between tequila and Fireball.
And here you thought your night couldn’t get any worse.
I grab the plastic bottle of Fireball and slam the door shut with my foot. Iris moans. “Sometimes I wonder if you really are a genius or not.”
“You and me both.” If it weren’t for the fact that my parents forced me to attend gifted classes throughout my life, I would think that they lied to me solely so that I would be challenged enough in school to avoid getting into trouble.
“There has to be an explanation for this. Based on the stories you shared about Lana, I doubt she would avoid a child from you, no matter how much she dislikes you.
“Well, I plan on getting an answer from her tomorrow morning, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“What are you going to do if the child is yours?”
“Besides drinking yourself into an alcohol-induced coma?” I twist the red cap and take a mouthful of the cinnamon-scented liquor. Unlike Lana’s warm scent, this one turns my stomach. I ignore the nausea as I swallow, longing for the relief that only alcohol can provide.
Iris snorts. “That’s not even remotely funny.”
I stop drinking to answer him. “ If she’s mine, then I’ll talk to Grandpa’s lawyer when I call him tomorrow.”
“Why do you need to talk to Leo?” There is a… complication.
“What kind of complication?” Concern seeps into her voice, making me feel bad for calling her in the first place, just to stress her out.
“Don’t worry about that”. I call towards the end of my sentence. “You’re drunk?”
“No.” Okay, I’m a little drunk, but I don’t want to worry Iris with my problems.
His deep sigh echoes through the speaker. “I thought you were doing better.”
If by doing better you mean doing better to hide my problems from everyone, then yes, I am.
“Turns out I’m in the mood to celebrate.”
“California.” It’s amazing how a single word can contain so much disappointment.
I touch the label on the bottle. “What are you waiting for? I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”
“Is it really considered a crisis if it is a constant state for you?” Declan complains on the other end of the line.
“Damn it, Iris. Was she listening to us all this time?
“It’s not like I have much choice when you’re the one calling at two in the morning,” Declan answers for her.
“I need moral support.”
“Or a congratulations based on the news.”
“Did you just make a joke about me possibly being a father?” Horror creeps into my voice.
“It’s either that or yell at you for having unprotected sex.”
“I would really prefer that.” Honestly, I’m willing to do anything except for my brother to make jokes about me becoming a father. I don’t know what required such a change in his character, but I can only imagine that it has to do with Iris.
Declan whispers something I don’t quite understand. Iris laughs before the line goes dead.
“Iris?” I check the screen for a dropped call. It still appears to be connected, but no sound is coming out of its end of the line.
She silenced you. “Do not worry about me. “I’m on the verge of having a mental breakdown.”
“Sorry! Declan needed to ask me something. His breathy voice sends a full-body shudder through me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow morning when my brother isn’t busy doing whatever makes you sound like that . “
“Wait!” She must mute the call again before returning thirty seconds later. “I told Declan to give me ten minutes.”
I fall face down on the bed, hoping the fall will knock me out. “I’m not sure why I thought calling you was a good idea, but I’m immensely sorry.”
“Because I’m your best friend and you needed me.” She really coos. “Debatable after the last few minutes of this conversation.”
She snorts. “I don’t like it when you’re in a bad mood. Reminds me of your brothers.
“Sorry, I don’t have rainbows or unicorns today. Check back tomorrow to see if I’m on a stop and smell the mood of the roses
again “.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m not sure you can do much. “This whole thing is turning out to be a big pain in my ass.” After watching my siblings struggle with their homework, I knew mine wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t think my grandfather would force Lana and me to live together again after the last time he and I spoke.
I’m angry because I didn’t connect the dots sooner. Instead, I prolonged the inevitable and made the process difficult given my limited time.
And that’s why you shouldn’t procrastinate.
“If selling the house was really that simple, you would have cleared the place and sold it a long time ago. “We both know you put off completing your grandfather’s application because something was holding you back.”
Not something, but someone .
 |
The alarm on a phone I forgot to turn off makes me moan into my pillow. The taste of bad decisions and cheap alcohol lingers on my tongue, making my already queasy stomach churn.
You shouldn’t have drunk so much last night.
It’s the same thing I say almost every morning when I wake up, although the mini fridge selection doesn’t help.
Instead of obsessing over my bad decisions, I leave the motel room and escape to the city. Not wanting to attract unnecessary attention this morning by stopping at the busy restaurant, I enter the small cafe near the town hall. Angry Rooster has a single barista hustling behind the counter, taking orders and making drinks without breaking a sweat.
All it takes is one sip from my cup of coffee for me to drop twenty into the jar labeled, On a scale of $1 to $10, how big is your…? Whoever wrote the sign covered the bad word with a rooster emoji. He makes me laugh, which in turn makes my head pound.
The barista chokes on her sudden inhale, so I drop another twenty into the jar just to be entertained by how red her face gets. “I have to own it.” wink
“Thank you!” she snorts.
I greet her before walking out the door. My phone vibrates in my pocket because of a new message in my family group chat. With a groan, I unlock my phone and read a new message from my little brother.
Rowan
So, did you find out if the child is yours?
Iris would never tell Rowan about my problem, so just leave one person.
Who said something about a child?
Declan is officially dead to me. The asshole
Rowan
Declan dropped the news when he called me this morning and gave a speech about condoms and safe sex.
Is something still a secret in this family? Since my brothers met the loves of their lives, it’s like everyone knows everything about my business.
dick-lan
I didn’t give you a speech.
Iris
Sounded like one to me.
Rowan
1,000? You’ll be dead when you finish the box.
I agree. Rowan was so moved that he ran out to Costco to panic and buy a pack of 1,000 condoms. —Zahra
Rowan sends a middle finger emoji.
Iris
AH! Why isn’t Zahra in this chat yet?
dick-lan
Because it’s only for Kanes.
Look at Declan acting like a jerk again. *pretends to be surprised*
Rowan
… A notification appears informing us all that Zahra, Rowan’s girlfriend and Dreamland-obsessed adult, has been added to the conversation by Iris. If I hadn’t felt chronically single before, fifth-wheeling in a damn group chat would have pushed me over the edge.
Zahra
Hello everyone!!! She sends another message with a variation of hearts and smiley faces.
Zahra
Cal, when are you bringing your son to Dreamland?
Zahra
We would love to have it!!! No wonder Declan didn’t want her in the chat. If there’s one thing you hate more than texting, it’s people who send multiple texts at once.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before answering.
I have to go.
I put my phone on silent and ignore the rest of his messages. I’ve gotten better at avoiding both couples in recent months, especially since Rowan and Zahra have been busy working in Dreamland while Declan and Iris are overwhelmed. with the renovation of her house and focused on getting pregnant.
If someone had asked me years ago if I would be the last of my siblings to be single, I would have laughed in their face. My brothers have the emotional intelligence of toddlers and personalities equivalent to beige paint, but they both accomplished something I never could.
They found happiness and love with another person.
For a while, I thought I had that too. Or at least I did until I ruined everything, ruining any chance of having the same thing.
You sound jealous.
Probably because I am .
