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Early morning outside of Penn Station was always a little depressing; the overcast sky and dull-colored concrete in that part of Baltimore seemed to lean into the city’s dismal reputation outside of everyone but its own residents. Not even that big piece of art out front could really save it. But there was still something about coming home that made it a little easier to breathe. An exhale before shit really hit the fan.
None of my family had ever really liked Sylvie. Sure they were polite, said all the right things, they were happy I was happy. But now?
“I just have to get through the weekend. I just have to get through the weekend,” I chanted silently to myself. It was meant to have been a double celebration: my engagement and my sister graduating from law school. At least half the celebration didn’t mean half the alcohol. It would mean twice as many relatives and neighbors and friends of my parents asking uncomfortable questions.
Halfway through ordering an Uber, my fingers paused, hovereing over my phone’s screen, and a familiar green Camry pulled up behind the usual line of city taxis. My sister’s blonde hair and 90s throwback-style sweatshirt were a beacon of brightness in the early morning gloom.
With her usual exuberance, she ran over—her car still idling—and I’m not even ashamed to say I squealed a little as I threw myself into her arms. Nothing quite like my sister’s bone-crushing hugs to force me to smile. Before I knew what was what, she had my duffel tossed into the trunk and shoved into the front seat.
“You didn’t have to pick me up. I was going to get an Uber or something.”
My sister flapped her hand in my direction, watching instead for oncoming traffic as she pulled out of the train station. “Nonsense. Besides, I want to get every moment of my sisterly bonding time in before the hordes descend.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, but it did make me smile. We had our disagreements, but sometimes it felt like she was the one person in my family I knew I could count on to at least understand where I was coming from. But what she wasn’t saying was that she had probably been running interference with Mom, since I hadn’t yet received the phone call I’d been dreading and wanting to just get over with in turn.
“How was the train?”
Watching familiar city streets merge into the 95 that would take us south to our parent’s place, I could feel my shoulders tense and my stomach begin to tighten with the first flush of anxiety. I really just wanted to take a nap before facing my mom and all her questions.
“Quiet. Didn’t sleep much, though,” I admitted eventually.
I could feel her glance over at me and as the silence stretched on, it was clear she had something on her mind. But the question never came. Small mercies, I guess.
The pressing silence stretched on and I started to wonder if I was the only one feeling uncomfortable trapped in a car, obviously avoiding talking about the giant elephant, currently not present in the backseat like previously planned. It was suddenly shattered by my phone going off. Glancing at the ID, I sighed before thumbing the button to answer. Maybe if I was lucky, we could avoid the inevitable for a few more hours.
Mom’s voice came through clear and loud through the speaker and I had no doubt my sister would be able to hear everything from the driver’s seat.
“Lauren? Did you make it to the station? Do you need someone to pick you up? I think your father is running errands, but—”
“Hi, Mom. I’m fine. Sarah surprised me at the station. We’re already on the 95. Should be at your place in—”
I turned my head over to my sister, who didn’t need me to repeat the question.
“Like 40 more minutes?” she half-whispered.
“Like 40 more minutes,” I relayed, “And then I think the plan was to have brunch with some of the old crew, and we’ll come over to the house later.”
“Tell your sister to not drive so fast! But good, good. Well, I just wanted to check in. And you sure you’re fine going straight out to eat? I don’t know why you wanted to take the night train. Horrible things, really. You should at least stop by and leave your things. You know, I was just reading about a rise in car jackings—”
I tried to keep my huff of laughter quiet. “Mom says not to drive so fast, Sarah,” I said, putting on the bratty, younger-sister voice I’d mostly grown out of, and trying to cut my mom off at a reasonable place before she could really get going on a tangent. Sarah just rolled her eyes and pressed down on the accelerator a little harder, before slowing back down. “And, I’ll be fine. I only brought a duffle and we put it in the trunk. I took the night train because I wanted to get out of Boston as early as possible. And I happen to like taking the train. Even at night. You know that..”
“Yes, yes, but I never understood why, though.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. I loved my mom, I really did. There was no one else who wanted and worked for me to have everything I could want like Mom. But she had a hard time recognizing anyone else’s opinion as valid, sometimes. It had taken months working on this with a therapist before acknowledging I could love her and still be hurt by the off-hand and unthinking comments at the same time.
“It’s good you and your sister are making time for your friends,” her mom continued, and I made a vague noise of agreement, knowing more than anything she just wanted to talk at someone and didn’t need much input from me to keep going.
There was a momentary pause before she took a breath and launched back up. “It’s going to be important, now, having friends you can really trust and love you and want the best for you. And, well. Maybe it’s for the best, after all. You are awfully young to be getting engaged.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling blindsided despite knowing they’d have to have this out eventually. Exhaling, I ried to get a handle on the sudden burst of anger clawing out of my chest.
“You and dad got married right of college, mom. I’m pretty sure you were younger than I am,” I snapped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my sister tense. I wished we’d thought to put on the radio or a podcast or something so at least Sarah could pretend she wasn’t hearing any of this. It’d be one sort-of-normal situation, instead of two incredibly awkward ones.
There was a little hum from the other end of the line, and I could just picture the pinched expression on her mom’s face that had always meant disapproval. Usually it was directed at some neighbor putting up tacky Halloween decorations far too early. (“It just isn’t done, Lauren,” her mom would say, sounding like something out of a Miss Manners handbook.)
“Yes, well. Times are different now. It’s good to know what you’re getting into beforehand. And clearly Sylvie has issues she needs to work through on her own. And that’s all I say on that.”
It wouldn’t be. I had years of experience and the therapy bill to prove it. If I didn’t want to get into it right here and now, I needed to—
I just need to get through the weekend.
Mom, taking my silence as some kind of agreement or signal, continued, “You know Jocelyn? Our neighbor with the horrible dachshund? Her son is in town, he’s working for some think tank in D.C. now, I think you two should connect. You never know what might come of it.”
“I’d be happy to talk to him about his work. Maybe he can connect me with someone about a job.”
“Yes, that too. But, wouldn’t it be nice to meet someone new?”
“Mom—”
“Alight, alright. I’ll stop there.”
You know what, fuck it.
“We both know you won’t just stop there, Mom. So why don’t you say exactly what you want to?”
I didn’t raise my voice, but it certainly wasn’t any kind of tone my mom would appreciate. Even if I was an adult and everything.
“Really, Lauren. This is hardly the time—”
“You were the one that brought it up.”
I tried to focus on the passing scenery, rather than fidget or focus on the the growing silence stretching out both in the car and on the other end of the phone line.
“I never want to see hurt, Lauren. I love you. But I don’t like what that girl has done to you. And I won’t apologize for that,” Mom said quietly.
“I thought,” I started to say, but my voice cracked, Swallowing I tried to continue, “I thought—”
I thought she loved me. But she did, I know she did and that’s what hurt the most.
“I thought you said you were happy with her. And you were so excited about proposing. And then to hear she—”
I could hear my mom snap her jaw shut, physically clamping down on words she knew I didn’t want to hear. She cleared her throat before continuing on, “What she did was unforgivable. She is clearly mentally disturbed—”
“No, Mom, you don’t get to—”
“Lauren, honey, it’s nothing she didn’t say herself!”
“But still, Mom! You don’t get to say that!”
“I will say whatever I damn well please! Especially about that—”
“No. Look. I proposed to Sylvie and she said no and broke my fucking heart. But you don’t get to be such asshole about it. It’s been weeks! I can’t even be upset at her because I’m too busy defending her to you. It’s not fair!”
After yelling the last part, the silence in both the car and on the phone were deafening. It was apparently the running theme of the weekend so far.
I took a deep breathe and exhaled.
“Feel however you want to feel about Sylvie, but just don’t bring it up anymore, please? And don’t try to set me up. With anyone. It’s going to bad enough answering everyone else’s questions.” I closed my eyes, trying to blink back the building headache I could feel gathering.
Mom sniffed before answering, “Well. We don’t want to ruin your sister’s party, I suppose.”
Heaven forbid a part of my mother’s was ruined, how could she ever face her neighbors afterwards?
“Thank you,” I said. It was more clipped sounding that truly thankful, but. Baby steps.
“I love you, Lauren. And I’ll see you soon.”
I smiled, even through the building headache and annoyance. “I love you too, Mom.”
Dumping my phone into the empty cupholder and sighing, I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes.
Minutes passed, and I started to think I might avoid any further unnecessary deep dives into the failure of my relationship.
“So,” my sister ventured, and let it hang there before barreling on, “I know Sylvie is persona non grata and I won’t bring her up the rest of the weekend, I promise, but can I say one thing?”
I shifted in my seat, pulling the seat belt away from neck, and turned as best as I could to face her. Might as well rip off the other band-aid, right?
“Why the fuck not?”
Sarah snorted, but didn’t turn her eyes from the road. She swallowed once and wet her lips before starting.
“I don’t know anything about how your feeling, and I am so, so sorry it didn’t work out like you thought it would.”
Of course it would be Sarah—bright, cheerful, popular Sarah, who tended to be the dump-er rather than the dump-ee—that might actually make me cry with her carefully chosen words and gentle voice.
“But I can’t help but think of all the times you’d complain about Sylvie. Her doing little things, petty things to be mad about, really, but you’d get so hurt by them. I know Mom didn’t phrase it good, but maybe this will truly be for the best. In the longrun.
She was right. Sylvie was always late, and could be a flake, and a thousand moments throughout our relationship drifted through my mind.
“Every relationship has bumps, though. I thought we could get over that.”
Sarah hummed. “Maybe.”
Or maybe expecting Sylvie to change, change for me and our future was unrealistic and unfair came the next unspoken thought.
Or maybe that’s just me, projecting.
“At least Mom’s parties never lack for booze,” Sarah said after a pause.
“Thank Christ,” I replied with a huff. “Just, keep the champagne away from me. I’m sick of the stuff at this point,” I murmured and settled back to watch the world speed by.
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