Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“You know Mom,” I say. “She likes to keep herself in a permanent state of denial. And when she’s doing something else—cooking a big dinner, even though we have staff that could do it—she’s focused on something. She’s not worried about Dad lying in a hospital bed or the fact that his aphasia is making him sound like a lunatic.”
She swallows. “Except ‘they’re coming’ makes a lot of sense.”
I roll my eyes. “Only if we know who ‘they’ are. If that’s even what Dad meant to say. Before you got in, he referred to me as a door.”
Robin is quiet for a moment, until— “I’m so glad Ray is okay. That she’s in remission and is going to be fine. And that she’s found love. Even if it is with a mobster…”
“Vinnie’s not like that,” I say. “You know that.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, I know that. You can’t help the family you’re born into.”
It doesn’t take a literary scholar to decipher what Robin is saying. She and I have both lamented the fact that we were born to the Bellamys. I doubt that Falcon, Raven, or Eagle ever have. Not that we aren’t grateful for the fortunes we have. But a hell of a lot of conditions come with that privilege.
Robin sighs. “Do you think that if I’d announced my engagement today, we would be having a big last-minute shindig at the house?”
I don’t reply because I simply don’t know the answer.
“I’m not begrudging Raven,” Robin says quickly. “You know I love her like a sister.” She smiles.
That was always Robin and Raven’s little joke when signing yearbooks back in high school. Love you like a sis.
“I know that, Robbie.”
“It’s just that… You and I both know she wouldn’t have done this for me.”
“Raven did just survive cancer,” I remind her.
She holds up a hand. “That’s not even what I mean. We’re all ecstatic that Ray’s okay. But I just know it wouldn’t have been the same if I’d been the one with the big announcement.”
“I guess we’ll never know, Robin, because you didn’t make any big announcements tonight.”
She lets out a sigh. “And based on the last couple of guys I’ve dated, I won’t be doing that anytime soon.” She shrugs again. “Much to Mom’s consternation, I’m sure.”
She’s not wrong. Mom is the quintessential housewife. She believes a woman’s place is in the home. Our grandparents were immigrants from Mexico, devout Catholics, and though Mom didn’t push her religion on us, she’s very traditional in her values.
Even though our household was always fully staffed, Mom enjoyed working in the kitchen, helping the staff, or even giving them the night off and making dinner herself. She always insisted on making a hot breakfast for Dad every morning. The kitchen was her domain then.
Come to think of it, with Dad in the hospital and all the kids out of the house, maybe she’s feeling a little lost. Maybe that’s why she jumped at the opportunity to host a big dinner.
Robin is quiet for a few more minutes. Until she turns to me. In my peripheral vision, I see that she’s getting ready to ask a question. A big one.
“Hawk?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Mom loves Raven more than she loves me?”
I open my mouth, but the answer catches in my throat.
Robin and I have always wondered this about ourselves. But this is the first time in a long time—since our childhood—that she’s asked me the question straight out.
I don’t like to lie to my sister. In fact, I’m not lying. Because I know if I asked our mother, she would say she loves all five of her children equally. And in her mind she would be telling the truth.
“No, I don’t think she loves Raven more.” I scratch my chin. “I think right now she’s very thankful that that we all have Raven.”
“I am too. Don’t for a second think that I’m not.”
“I know that. But I also think that Mom and Raven just have a lot more in common than you and Mom do. And that’s not a bad thing. It’s just how people are.” I clear my throat. “For example, I have nothing in common with our father.”
“You’re the only one who looks even slightly like him,” Robin reminds me.
“True. I’m the tallest, and I have his eyes.”
Dad and I are the same height. But Mom is a foot shorter than Dad, so Falcon and Eagle didn’t quite hit Dad’s height.
“Yeah, I know. But he and I just have a different way of looking at the world. Truthfully, so do Mom and I.”
Robin simply nods.
She gets it.
“What was it you called us the last time we had this discussion?” she asks me. “The redheaded stepchildren?”
I laugh. “Only because we have less in common with our parents than the rest of them do. I never for an instant doubted their love for us.”