Abandon

Chapter Ten

I hear her car pull up outside – not that I’m listening for it. I immediately click off the TV show I’m watching about man caves and leap off the sofa. When I open the front door, Senia’s walking up the path in a sapphire-blue dress that hugs her curves, a black trench coat and black heels.

“Did you get dressed up to come here?” I ask with a grin and she rolls her eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t lying in bed in a fucking trench coat and heels, but I was wearing this dress. I always wear dresses. You know that.”

I do know that, yet, even with the easy access of simply pulling up her dress, this didn’t make it easy enough for us to hook up until last week; until she was wearing a skirt. Maybe the dresses are a curse. I should rip it off her right now to find out.

Settle down, Tristan.

When she steps inside the house, I find myself feeling a bit self-conscious. The house looks fine. It’s pretty tiny, but it’s completely remodeled. I can’t remember if Senia has ever been here, but I don’t want to admit this.

“It looks different,” she says as she looks around. “I guess you and Chris really took care of your families after you hit the big time. What’s that like?”

“What’s what like?”

She turns to me and fixes me with a worried stare. “Having a family to take care of?”

Her words stop me cold. “I never really thought of it that way. I just do it because it’s my job and … and I love them.”

She shakes her head as she looks away. “I’ve never had to take care of anyone. Even when Sophie was a baby, my parents never made me change diapers or babysit. My older sisters did that. I don’t know how to act like a mother, much less be one.”

“You want to take off that coat?” I ask as I shut the front door.

“I’m fine. I can’t stay too long. I just wanted to talk about … you know.”

“Sit down,” I say, placing my hand on her back to guide her toward the sofa. As soon as I feel the coolness of her coat under my hand, a worried thought crosses my mind. “Is this coat warm enough for the snow? Snow season starts in a few weeks. Do you need another coat?”

She takes a seat on the sofa and looks up at me as if I’m an alien. “I have other coats, thanks.”

I sit next to her and chuckle as she scoots a few inches away from me. “Are you afraid of being close to me?”

“Yes.”

“I can keep my hands to myself. You sure you don’t want to take that off?” I ask, giving her sleeve a soft tug.

“I thought you said you could keep your hands to yourself.”

“I didn’t touch you. I touched your coat.”

She narrows her eyes at me and leans back to get more comfortable. “Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”

“You can’t drink in your condition.”

“Why, yes, I’d love a glass of water. Thank you.”

I smile as I make my way into the kitchen and take a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. I head for the refrigerator to get some water from the door, but the sound of the house phone stops me. I hurry back to the living room to grab the phone off the receiver. I don’t want the ringing to wake up Grandma.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is Carissa’s mother. I’d like to speak to Molly’s mother or father. Are they home?”

“This is her brother. What happened to Molly?”

“I really think I should speak to her parents.”

“They’re not here,” I snarl. “Where’s Molly?”

“Well, that figures. Molly is in Carissa’s bedroom … drunk. Somebody needs to come pick her up.”

“I’ll be there. What’s the address?”

Carissa’s mother hangs up after she gives me the address and I stare at the phone for a moment, in shock.

“What’s wrong?” Senia says, reaching for the empty glass I set down on the coffee table in front of her.

“My sister Molly’s drunk. I have to go pick her up.”

“Drunk? Isn’t she, like, ten?”

“She’s thirteen.” I toss the phone onto the sofa and she quickly stands up.

“I’ll go get her. You have to stay here with your grandma.”

I look at her and I’m surprised to see that she’s serious. She wants to pick up my drunk, teenage sister. Fuck. Molly’s drunk. Well, what did I expect? She’s seen me drink away my troubles for about nine years. And I don’t think my troubles will ever compare to the pain she must be feeling over Grandma.

“You don’t have to do that,” I reply. “I doubt this is how you wanted to spend your Thanksgiving.”

“Hey, I have a lot to be thankful for today. Let me do this … as a friend.”

I can’t help but smile at these last three words. “I think we’re way past that,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my car key. I grab her hand and she swallows hard as I softly place the key in her palm. “Take my car.”