Restless Waters

  “Eric, listen to me. Estelle is a tough chick. Don’t forget that. Let her work out her stuff, but you have to talk to her about this.”

  “You know Estelle. She doesn’t make that easy. Our bond is a little more unspoken,” he says, laughing lightly.

  “I know. But if you push her a little, she’ll open up. Okay?”

  He nods. “Okay. Thanks, Blythe.”

  We spend another hour cooking and listening to the raucous noise from the other room. Every single sound is exhilarating to me. We eventually lure in everyone’s help with the promise of an outstanding dinner. Chris turns on loud music and stands next to me, occasionally leaning in for a kiss, while we cook. The bustle of activity now reminds me so much of the bliss we all had last summer, and I am extremely grateful that we’re able to recapture that.

  Dinner goes off smoothly, and it turns out that I did not radically over shop. I forgot how much James could put away. When we’ve polished off a shocking amount of food, Sabin, Chris, Eric, and Estelle move to the living room while I sit with James and pick from the salad bowl.

  “This is the best part of dinner.” I stab at a now wilted piece of arugula. “You know, when the salad has been sitting and marinating for a few hours, and it’s all soggy.”

  “You’re weird.” But he peers into the salad bowl and grabs a fork.

  “I missed you, little brother.”

  “And I missed your cooking,” he teases. “Fine, fine. I missed you, too. Thanks for the gift, Blythe,” he says quietly. “It was very cool of you.”

  I gave him an airline ticket to use, so he can go visit Estelle for spring break. When he opened the envelope, both of them lit up—and then made out for a little too long.

  “Happy to do it. It’s good to see you two back together. Just keep it down at night.”

  He blushes. “Oh God. Sorry, sorry. Although, I have suffered plenty over the years because of you and Chris.”

  “Fine. Let’s call it even.”

  We clink forks.

  “Blythe! Get in here!” Sabin’s voice booms. “You didn’t open your present!”

  I wipe my hands. “Dear God, I can only imagine what it might be.”

  “Good luck,” James says. “Be strong.”

  I laugh and go to meet my fate.

  “Did you think I forgot about you?” Sabin makes an exaggerated frown. “Sit down, and receive the blessings of the day.”

  I cautiously kneel on the floor next to him.

  He pushes a rather large present my way. “You can never say that I don’t pay attention to everything you say.”

  I take off the paper and lift the top off the box. Then, I smile and bust out laughing. “Estelle is right. You really are goddamn fucking brilliantly perfect.”

  In the box are thousands of green mini swords.

  Because they are the best and make everything taste better.

  I kiss Sabin on the cheek. “These are the most awesome green mini swords a girl could ever ask for. And you’re the best Sabin a girl could ask for.” I scoop my hand through the cocktail swords. “I cannot believe you remembered this.”

  “A raging drunk Blythe is hard to forget.”

  “I think we all remember that day,” Chris says.

  “Yep,” Sabin says a little too loudly. “Christopher’s non-wedding wedding day. That was interesting.”

  “Gee, thanks for bringing that up.” Chris shoots him an irritated glare.

  “What? It’s true. Don’t kill the messenger. What was her name? Oh, yeah. Jennifer. Wonder whatever happened to her.”

  Chris has a look of disbelief coupled with growing anger. “Nobody cares what happened to her.”

  Sabin stands up. “Who’s up for a Christmas Day sunset swim?”

  “Dude, I’m totally in!” Estelle says with more cheer than the moment warrants. James makes a face, but she widens her eyes and grabs his hand. “We’ll all run into the water, wearing our clothes!”

  I cannot imagine that she has any real urge to dunk into the freezing water, but the room has grown tense enough that she’s probably as eager as the rest of us to defuse this conversation.

  “Yeah, that’ll be fun,” Eric says halfheartedly.

  Sabin is out the door before anyone can ask what in the hell that little outburst was about.

  When we’re alone, Chris takes my hand. “Don’t let him bother you.”

  “I’m trying not to. Just…he seems pretty moody. Up and down, you know?”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to get that. Let’s give him a few days. See what happens.”

  “Okay.” I feel unsettled, but I have an idea that might wash away some of the unpleasantness. “Come with me.” I take Chris by the hand and laugh at the curious expression he makes when I lead him to the tree. “We’re going to lie down under the tree and look up through the branches.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “No. It’s romantic,” I insist. “I read about it in a book. I want to try it.”

  “Whatever you want. It’s your day.”

  Chris follows my lead, and we lie on the floor and push back until we are under the branches and bows and lights.

  “Now what?” he asks.

  “It’s up to us. Maybe we think about the future. Or the past or the present. The New Year coming up. I don’t know.” I think for a minute. It turns out that this wasn’t a bad idea. I gaze up into the lights, take in the detail of the many pine needles, and inhale the smell. “Maybe we just lie here and breathe.”

  So, that’s what we do. Chris takes my hand, and we breathe.

  As the minutes tick by, the room darkens as the sun fades, and the lights on the tree get brighter and sharper. In the distance, there is shrieking and laughter coming from the shore, but we block that out. Right now, it’s just us.

  I shut my eyes and focus on my hand entwined with Chris’s, feeling the familiarity and comfort of him but also the energy and momentum he gives me. Our connection remains as exciting as it always has been. There is just the addition of security and stability.

  “I have something for you,” he says. “Don’t get mad.”

  I turn my head, and I’m about to snap at him because we agreed that we weren’t exchanging presents, but he looks too thoughtful and in love for me to be annoyed.

  “Christopher…”

  He slips out from the tree, and I giggle when he grabs my legs and yanks so that I glide across the floor a good five feet.

  In a flash, he’s on his side next to me, setting a small box on my chest. “Open.”

  “I wish you’d told me that you—”

  “Shh.” He holds a finger to my lips and smiles at me. “Open.”

  Inside the box is a silver sea urchin with a pale blue stone pendant that hangs from a thin chain. His gift leaves me emotional and moved. Chris is not one for fate or destiny or anything that he can’t explain with fact and logic, but he has latched on to how undeniably tied we are to each other, and this necklace is a symbol of that. He’s made an exception when it comes to us.

  “Put it on for me.” I can hardly talk, so I just watch him while he delicately undoes the clasp and then gently brushes my hair aside before he hooks it around my neck.

  Now, I have on the necklace that belonged to Chris’s mother and also this one. It’s a damn good set.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says.

  “The necklace is beauti—”

  He stops me with a kiss—a long one.

  Sometimes, our kissing is brief, a quick show of affection in passing. Sometimes, our kisses are heated, urgent, loaded with sexual need. Then, there are kisses like this one—tender, unhurried, and patient—that are not about anything but love. This kiss is romance at its best.

  “Good fucking God, get a fucking room!” Sabin hollers as he crashes loudly through the doorway. “Oh, wait. You have one,” he says gratingly. “It’s just upstairs. Feel free to use it. I don’t think we all need to see you two going at it on the fl
oor, do we?”

  Chris lifts his mouth from mine. He remains remarkably calm, considering how obnoxious Sabin is being. Chris whispers under his breath so that only I can hear, “Don’t say anything.” He pulls back, takes my hand, and helps me to stand. “I’m going to make coffee. There’s a nice French press here. Anyone want some?”

  Sabin is dripping water all over the floor and toweling off while looking snarly, and Estelle and Eric excuse themselves to go get changed.

  I meet my brother’s eyes and silently beg him for help. Sabin has always responded well to him.

  James nods and approaches Sabin. “Dude, let’s tank up on caffeine and warm up. That water was fierce, huh? I’m glad we went in though. That was a great idea. Refreshing.” He claps a hand on Sabin’s shoulder, I think, in an effort to ground him or get him to ease up.

  “Yeah,” Sabin says reluctantly. “Yeah, sure.”

  Sabin starts to step past me with an uncharacteristic coldness in his eyes, but then he stops in front of me. He reaches out to touch my necklace, and then he lets out a callous laugh. “Oh God, really? You two still harping on that?” He drops the sea urchin back against my chest and walks toward the kitchen area, waving his hands in the air. “Ain’t nothin’ going to top that shit, huh?” His tone is filled with a nasty ridicule that I’ve not heard from him in years, and he saunters to the kitchen island with a level of casualness that infuriates me. “The great love affair to beat all others. You guys are just that fucking epic, aren’t you?”

  Chris lifts the teakettle and slams it hard onto the burner. “That’s about enough.” Now, he’s angry. Now, he’s working to control himself. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you all of a sudden, but get it together.”

  Sabin opens a container of mixed nuts and pours some into his hand before he starts tossing them up in the air and catching them in his mouth. “I’m just saying, these displays are all a bit much. Not to mention, you get off on throwing your money around.” He frenetically gestures around. “This house? Not exactly necessary. And God knows what you paid for the jewelry.”

  James grabs his arm and tries to pull him away, but Sabin shakes him off hard, harder than Chris would like. He strides forward while I beckon James to come near me. There are certain family dynamics that I know to stay out of. I’m not sure what is happening here, but I keep my mouth shut, and I want James to do the same.

  “You and your fucking money, Chris,” Sabin continues. “And always the martyr, never spending shit on yourself. Making the big sacrifices, so you can look like some fucking hero who swooped in and spoiled us all. Like we’re supposed to be grateful that you know how to use a credit card.”

  There is a fury emanating from Chris that I’ve never seen, and I’m terrified he’s going to blow.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he speaks with a measured voice that scares me more than if he’d simply lashed out and punched Sabin across the face, “I think you should go. Now.”

  “Fine by me.” Sabin tosses another nut, and it bounces off his mouth when he tries to catch it.

  Chris grabs the container and hurls it across the room. “Now.”

  “Whatever you want, Christopher. I didn’t ask to stay here, and I certainly didn’t ask for everyone to come and invade my life here. A little fucking space isn’t a bad thing. Jesus. What? You guys can’t function unless we’re all glued together at the hip?” He grabs his wallet from the counter and walks out the door.

  Chris puts a hand on the counter and looks down. James touches my back and guides me to the table so that I can sit. I’m not sure I would have been able to walk there on my own.

  The three of us listen to the roar of Sabin’s motorcycle as he takes off.

  “What…what just happened?” The break in my voice tells me that I’m on the verge of crying, but I can hardly allow myself to feel anything through the shock. “I don’t even know who that was.”

  Finally, Chris looks at me. “Welcome to the Shepherd Family Christmas.”

  It’s after eleven on Christmas night, and I’m curled up on the couch, staring at the tree, with my phone in my hand. I’ve been calling and texting Sabin for hours with no response. Since drawing out this day held less than no appeal, everyone but Chris and I went to bed a while ago.

  Chris comes from behind the kitchen counter with a drink in his hand. Scotch, I’m guessing.

  “You sure you don’t want one?” He drops onto the cushion next to me.

  “No, thanks.” Maybe getting loaded would help me drown out Sabin’s behavior, but I want to stay clearheaded in case I can make sense of it. Plus, I’m already depressed, and I know from experience that drinking does nothing to lift my mood.

  “Blythe, I’m so sorry about today.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I haven’t mentioned the details of the morning I first saw Sabin. I’d rather not worry Chris more than necessary.

  “I feel like somehow it is. I don’t know exactly what triggered him, but I can say for certain that holidays for us have never been great. You know, the pressure to have perfection when we never had that growing up. I think this whole season is pretty hard on him—less so for Estelle and Eric but still.”

  “And you?”

  “You make it a lot easier.” He pauses. “More than that. I love seeing you happy. When you get caught up in what to put in the stockings or what would make the perfect breakfast for Christmas morning, I like it. You spread this happy energy around, and it’s infectious—for me, at least. But we are not a family with a good history, Blythe, and you can’t change that.”

  “I’m so stupid,” I say. “I actually thought I could cut through that a little. I wanted to—not because we’re supposed to like holidays, but because…I wanted everyone to feel safe and loved. I didn’t do that—at least, not for Sabin.” I pause. “And he’s the one who needs it the most, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he’s the one who needs it the most,” Chris confirms.

  This breaks my heart to hear, and I should have understood it sooner.

  “But you did a wonderful job. If we can push aside Sabin’s shitstorm, the truth is, you gave everyone else the best day imaginable. We’re pretty used to imperfection.”

  I see perfection in things that are likely considered imperfections by others. My own thought from years ago rings loudly in my head.

  “I think he’s lonely.” The lights on the tree grow blurry the longer I focus on them, so I wipe my eyes and shoot for clarity. “Estelle and James, Eric and Zach…”

  “And then, there’s us. Clearly a sore spot for him.”

  “Why is that? Why all of a sudden?”

  Chris takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out. “I’m not sure. He’s not drinking, so that’s not it. You guys have a very close friendship, and maybe he thinks I’m in the way of that or that I resent it. I don’t want to hinder your relationship. I never have. I’m glad you have each other. You’re the closest friend he has, and I know that he’s very good to you—well, usually. You know that he has his moments when he erupts. He picked a hell of a night to do it.” Chris takes a long drink. “I can tell how much he hurt you tonight, and I wish that hadn’t happened. If it’s any consolation, he’s going to feel terrible about it when he calms down. He adores you, sometimes maybe a little too much.”

  I don’t know what to say to this because perhaps I adore Sabin a little too much, too. While Sabin’s rant today did hurt, I’m more focused on it being an indication that he’s in pain of some sort, and that is intolerable to me. I can’t stand to know he’s hurting so much.

  “Today started out so nicely,” I say dejectedly.

  “It did.”

  “And I didn’t overcook the rib roast or screw up the hollandaise sauce for the asparagus. Those were indicators that the day should have been a success.”

  “Blythe, you gave us the best holiday anyone could. We’re not easy to take. I should have expected something like this, and I probably should have warned you. List
en, remember the year that I took them to Hawaii when we were still in college?”

  “Of course. Sabin sent me thousands of pictures of him in terrible shirts and a few of you in swim trunks. You were all glistening in the ocean, and that made me drooly and crap.”

  Chris laughs. “Well, what he didn’t send you were pictures from Christmas Eve when Eric flipped out about the food being terrible before overturning his plate and leaving the table. Or when Sabin interrupted a private luau and started a fight with some flame-thrower guy. Oh, and then he took a swing at me when I pulled him away before he could really get into a fight. If I remember correctly, he called me a ‘psychotic, narcissist punk’ and ‘the lamest superhero there ever was.’ I believe he said something about my not deserving a cape and certainly not a place with the Justice League. We all have our moments.”

  “Great. So, explosions are considered a holiday tradition? That sort of sucks.”

  “We might consider putting that tradition to rest, huh?” Chris tousles my hair and kisses my head. “It’s not all jumping off docks and fishing and lobsters with us. You took on a lot.”

  “It’s worth it. You know that.”

  He kisses me again. “I’m going to head to bed. There’s something on the dining room table for you from Annie. I thought you might want to be alone when you opened it.”

  “Okay.” I try to smile, but I feel shitty, as though I’d failed everyone today by not preventing what happened. If I had paid better attention or done a better job or kept us busier…I don’t know. That’s stupid thinking, and I shouldn’t blame myself. “I love you, Christopher.”

  “I love you, Blythe.” He slams back the rest of his drink and sends me a soft smile. “Merry Christmas. Go enjoy Annie’s present.”

  I take a few minutes before I go to the table and find an envelope with my name on it. I slip out the card. The front shows a vintage-style Santa Claus in lovely soft colors, and inside, she’s handwritten a note.

  Blythe,

  Merry Christmas, my dear! I hope you are having a spectacular time in California, and I’m sure that the gang is keeping you on your toes.

  I made you something this year. Don’t worry. It’s not a horrid crocheted tissue-box cover or anything. I’m hoping that you’ll like it and that it’ll bring you some…well, comfort and joy. Forgive the seasonal phrasing, but I do want those for you. And I know that your parents would, too.