Free To See You Again by marian gard Page B

sort of child. One specific memory stands out from around that time.
She was applying make-up and getting ready to go out with Jack. The babysitter
with the bad breath was coming soon. I didn't want Mom to leave, so I was in
her room absorbing every second with her I could.
    "You only get this," she'd gestured from head to
toe at her reflection in the mirror, "for a short period. So, you have to make
it count." She'd come from a pretty rough family and as far as she was
concerned, my dad had rescued her. So, when things fell apart, she panicked. I
can look back now and grasp the fear she must've felt. I just wish she could've
seen mine too.
    She and Jack didn't have kids immediately after
getting married, and so my half-brothers were a distant eight and nine years
younger than me. Jack is nice enough, but pretty flaky, like her. He went in
and out of different careers, never too worried about money, often to the
detriment of his family. I learned not to rely on him, but he was always kind,
and he never, that I can recall, raised his voice to me. Neither Mom nor Jack
was big on discipline, however, so the boys ran wild a lot; and I was kind of
left to do my own thing.
    By the time I was a teenager this seemed like an
ideal arrangement to all of my friends. They were envious of my lack of a
curfew and enjoyed my mother's laid back nature whenever they came over. I
pretended to bask in it, but there was also a part of me that yearned for the
attention and structure I'd never received. I wondered later if things would've
been different if I'd demanded it, by acting out, but it would've been quite
the feat in a house with so few rules.
    I tried not to resent my bothers and sisters for
having relationships with my parents that were so different from my own, but at
times it was challenging. As adults we don't talk much, and my relationship
with my parents, both biological and step, has remained peaceful but distant—an
arrangement that seems to serve all parties well enough. Mindy is the one
outlier. She's made a point to maintain a relationship with me in spite of
distance, our age gap, and the fact that my stepmom nearly always "forgets" to
include me in family get-togethers.
    Thinking about all of this reminds me that she
emailed me last week about trying to visit sometime soon. I pick up my phone
and start scrolling through, searching for the email. "Can you put a hold in
there for a few days next month for Mindy to visit?"
    Beck's reply is a blank stare.
    "My half-sister." His expression goes unchanged.
"Remember you met her once about a year ago at my dad's house."
    I see recognition wash over him. "She's short,
right? Red hair?" I narrow my eyes at him, while nodding.
    "Sorry, babe. It's hard for me to remember she's your
family. You two don't look anything alike."
    Just what I need, yet another reminder of how
obvious it is that I don't belong. "Don't complain, Beck. You have it pretty
easy. There are about twenty relatives of yours for every one of mine. I still
manage to keep all the M's in your family sorted." I start listing cousins.
"Matthew, Martin, Michael, Mark…"
    He puts a hand up. "OK, OK, Rach. I get your
point. I'm sure I can move some stuff around. Lemme look after dinner." I note
his annoyance, but decide against commenting on it. It's not worth the
argument. I set my phone down and nod. He's conceded, but I feel the battle
isn't over, just delayed.
     

Chapter 7
Collin
     
    I'm dressed and ready to go, just waiting on Leighton,
who insisted on getting ready at my place. She thinks I'm unaware of what she's
trying to do. She's banking that the more she hangs out, sleeps over, showers,
and keeps her stuff here, the more I'll warm up to the idea of us moving in
together. An issue she knows better than to push any more with me. She's acting
like she's let it go, but really she's just launched another weapon in her
arsenal. I half expect to come home one day to a room full of moving boxes with
her standing