“Oh, yeah.” I handed it to her. “I just came over to give you that, really. Kind of a housewarming thing, now that you’re settled.”
While she opened the box, I tucked my fingers into my pockets and surveyed the condo again. Matt still wanted nothing to do with helping Chrissy, but at least he “let me” help her. My arms ached from carrying boxes and moving furniture—heavy lifting that my pregnant sister couldn’t do. In a matter of weeks, she’d transformed from carelessly smoking mother-to-be to neurotically terrified of anything that might harm her baby.
More proof, I thought, that she viewed the baby as a means to an end.
That end being Seth Sky.
She’d quit her job at the Dynamite Club, taken up prenatal yoga, and, with a stipend from Seth, started eating organic. But I wasn’t buying it. The baby was a nuisance to Chrissy before Seth stepped into the picture.
“A … lantern?” She lifted the collapsed lantern from the box. The thin paper, turquoise-colored with circling koi, opened into an orb. Tears pricked at my eyes. This was the lantern I’d hung in my basement bedroom last year when I moved back home. It was a spot of color in my haze of depression. The first time Matt had visited my bedroom, he’d noticed the lantern.
He wrote about it in Night Owl.
Damn, the room was small, made smaller by Hannah’s queen-size bed and piles of boxes. The only window was high and narrow.
She’d hung a paper lantern from the ceiling. The sight of it tugged at my heart.
Now, the sight of the lantern tugged at my heart. What a long way Matt and I had come … full circle, it seemed. Writing together, living together. I blinked back emotion.
“For good luck,” I said. “I better get going.”
“I hope I don’t need luck.” Chrissy laughed and tossed the box onto a couch. “Thanks, Han. It’s adorable. Are you going to call your mystery man?”
I froze.
“What?”
“Ha! You look guilty. I’ve seen you from the balcony, always out there on your cell.”
“I’m … planning wedding stuff,” I said. “And house stuff. Yeesh. And soon I’ll be calling you for dinner dates with Mom and Dad, so don’t be dodging me.”
I scuttled out.
Whoa, Chrissy had noticed me making calls? Good thing she and Matt weren’t on speaking terms. That day, I waited until I was safe in my Civic to take out my cell and make a call.
“Hannah,” Nate answered. “Hi.”
“Hey. How is everything?”
“Fine, thank you. Congratulations on the house closing. Shouldn’t you be knee deep in boxes, or maybe learning to drive a tractor?”
“Pfft.” I laughed. “We’ll hire people to help with the land. And thank you. We’re so excited. We’ve been moving stuff slowly. It’s a process. I don’t know why Matt won’t get a company for the move; something about the experience…”
I rambled awhile, giving Nate details on the Corral Creek house and closing. It had happened quickly, inside of a month. The owners had moved to California and were eager to sell. We offered, they countered, and because Matt was impatient, we paid just shy of the asking price, five and a quarter million. Whew.
“And he’s been elated. It’s worth it just to see him this way, he’s…”
“Like a boy, I know.” Nate chuckled. “His happiness is something else. He’s been sending pictures. That is quite the piece of property. I eagerly await my invitation.”
“Don’t be silly. Come any time.” My big smile started to fade. “Anyway, I’m calling—”
“To ask about Seth. I know.” A pause. “Should I be worried?”
“Huh? I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Not about Seth.” He sighed. “About the degree of your concern, Hannah.”
The degree of my…? I almost dropped my iPhone.
“Uh, no. Er … it’s nothing … nothing like that, I—”
“I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but you can see why I worry. Your concern is very touching. Of course, Seth is involved, and I know there’s some history.” Nate sounded effortlessly blasé, while I wanted to disappear beneath my car. “The fact is, I feel a little guilty, and I wonder if Matt shouldn’t know how often you—”
“No! Nate, you can’t tell him. I’ll call less. Or not at all.” I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. Stupid! Of course all this Seth-worry sounded suspicious, but … “Who else can I talk to? Chrissy doesn’t think anything is wrong, Matt doesn’t care, and I can’t be calling Seth and asking him how he is. That leaves you.”
“As far as I can tell, he’s fine. Touring on the West Coast. His discharge papers from last month cite exhaustion as the cause of the collapse.”
“Okay…”
“I worry, too.” Nate sighed in my ear. “But there’s only so much I can do.”
Untrue, I thought. Nate had done much more when Matt was in trouble. And sure, Seth wasn’t drinking himself to death, but couldn’t it get there?
We said good-bye and I ended the call.
My face slowly resumed a normal temperature as I drove home.
Maybe I couldn’t see straight about this Seth issue. Maybe there was no problem, just a tired, hardworking lead singer, and maybe I felt extra guilty for fooling around with him and for the faked death fiasco … which must have hurt him so terribly.
While she opened the box, I tucked my fingers into my pockets and surveyed the condo again. Matt still wanted nothing to do with helping Chrissy, but at least he “let me” help her. My arms ached from carrying boxes and moving furniture—heavy lifting that my pregnant sister couldn’t do. In a matter of weeks, she’d transformed from carelessly smoking mother-to-be to neurotically terrified of anything that might harm her baby.
More proof, I thought, that she viewed the baby as a means to an end.
That end being Seth Sky.
She’d quit her job at the Dynamite Club, taken up prenatal yoga, and, with a stipend from Seth, started eating organic. But I wasn’t buying it. The baby was a nuisance to Chrissy before Seth stepped into the picture.
“A … lantern?” She lifted the collapsed lantern from the box. The thin paper, turquoise-colored with circling koi, opened into an orb. Tears pricked at my eyes. This was the lantern I’d hung in my basement bedroom last year when I moved back home. It was a spot of color in my haze of depression. The first time Matt had visited my bedroom, he’d noticed the lantern.
He wrote about it in Night Owl.
Damn, the room was small, made smaller by Hannah’s queen-size bed and piles of boxes. The only window was high and narrow.
She’d hung a paper lantern from the ceiling. The sight of it tugged at my heart.
Now, the sight of the lantern tugged at my heart. What a long way Matt and I had come … full circle, it seemed. Writing together, living together. I blinked back emotion.
“For good luck,” I said. “I better get going.”
“I hope I don’t need luck.” Chrissy laughed and tossed the box onto a couch. “Thanks, Han. It’s adorable. Are you going to call your mystery man?”
I froze.
“What?”
“Ha! You look guilty. I’ve seen you from the balcony, always out there on your cell.”
“I’m … planning wedding stuff,” I said. “And house stuff. Yeesh. And soon I’ll be calling you for dinner dates with Mom and Dad, so don’t be dodging me.”
I scuttled out.
Whoa, Chrissy had noticed me making calls? Good thing she and Matt weren’t on speaking terms. That day, I waited until I was safe in my Civic to take out my cell and make a call.
“Hannah,” Nate answered. “Hi.”
“Hey. How is everything?”
“Fine, thank you. Congratulations on the house closing. Shouldn’t you be knee deep in boxes, or maybe learning to drive a tractor?”
“Pfft.” I laughed. “We’ll hire people to help with the land. And thank you. We’re so excited. We’ve been moving stuff slowly. It’s a process. I don’t know why Matt won’t get a company for the move; something about the experience…”
I rambled awhile, giving Nate details on the Corral Creek house and closing. It had happened quickly, inside of a month. The owners had moved to California and were eager to sell. We offered, they countered, and because Matt was impatient, we paid just shy of the asking price, five and a quarter million. Whew.
“And he’s been elated. It’s worth it just to see him this way, he’s…”
“Like a boy, I know.” Nate chuckled. “His happiness is something else. He’s been sending pictures. That is quite the piece of property. I eagerly await my invitation.”
“Don’t be silly. Come any time.” My big smile started to fade. “Anyway, I’m calling—”
“To ask about Seth. I know.” A pause. “Should I be worried?”
“Huh? I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Not about Seth.” He sighed. “About the degree of your concern, Hannah.”
The degree of my…? I almost dropped my iPhone.
“Uh, no. Er … it’s nothing … nothing like that, I—”
“I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but you can see why I worry. Your concern is very touching. Of course, Seth is involved, and I know there’s some history.” Nate sounded effortlessly blasé, while I wanted to disappear beneath my car. “The fact is, I feel a little guilty, and I wonder if Matt shouldn’t know how often you—”
“No! Nate, you can’t tell him. I’ll call less. Or not at all.” I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. Stupid! Of course all this Seth-worry sounded suspicious, but … “Who else can I talk to? Chrissy doesn’t think anything is wrong, Matt doesn’t care, and I can’t be calling Seth and asking him how he is. That leaves you.”
“As far as I can tell, he’s fine. Touring on the West Coast. His discharge papers from last month cite exhaustion as the cause of the collapse.”
“Okay…”
“I worry, too.” Nate sighed in my ear. “But there’s only so much I can do.”
Untrue, I thought. Nate had done much more when Matt was in trouble. And sure, Seth wasn’t drinking himself to death, but couldn’t it get there?
We said good-bye and I ended the call.
My face slowly resumed a normal temperature as I drove home.
Maybe I couldn’t see straight about this Seth issue. Maybe there was no problem, just a tired, hardworking lead singer, and maybe I felt extra guilty for fooling around with him and for the faked death fiasco … which must have hurt him so terribly.
