Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,45
unadulterated truth. “I can’t control a lot of things in my life. So I take care of what I can. It’s not so much letting people get in the way of my goals, it’s more that I would never let anyone stand in the way of me doing my best for my family. They’ve been through enough.”
She nods slowly. “I get it.” She glances around the living room. “I should probably get going.”
“One more glass of wine?” I wonder if she can hear the thick thread of hope in the words.
Maybe she can, because she searches my eyes for a few seconds and then nods. “One more.”
I pour her a glass of wine and then check on the girls to make sure they’re actually sleeping before coming back to the living room.
We sit on the couch, Mr. Bean still playing softly in the background, the flickering of the TV casting shadows and light over her face.
“They share a room?” she asks.
“Yes. Emma doesn’t sleep well. Insomnia is a common problem in children with Angelman’s. She wakes up at 3 a.m. at least once a week. Ava insists on being there if Emma needs her.”
“That’s so sweet.”
I nod. “She’s great, but I also worry for her.”
“Why?”
“Emma will require care for the rest of her life. Ava insists that since they shared a womb, she wants to be the one to do it. Demands it, really. She says she was there in the beginning and she’ll be there until the end. But I worry it’s not fair to her. I don’t want her to feel obligated, I guess. Or like she can’t go off to college and experience life on her own.”
Scarlett smiles. “They are both pretty amazing. Emma, when she laughs, it’s like…listening to happiness in its most authentic form.”
I want to reach out and touch her, but instead I pick up my wine glass. “I get what you mean. She’s definitely taught me a lot about life and love. Especially since our parents died.”
“What happened to them? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s fine.” I take a sip of wine before answering. “Our mom died first. She had pancreatic cancer. By the time she was diagnosed, it was too late to do surgery or treat it with anything but hospice and end of life care. Just things to make her as comfortable as possible. Dad took care of her, non-stop. Wouldn’t leave her side, so that’s when I took the girls in. After mom died, dad wasn’t far behind. He got sick. A flu bug that turned into pneumonia, and he just kind of gave up.”
“I’m sorry.” She puts a hand on my arm, and I stare down at it. She has small hands, nails clipped short, and painted a vivid hot pink. They are bright and happy, just like she is.
I meet her eyes. “Thank you. Mom had Emma and Ava when she was older. Twins were a surprise. They’re twenty years younger than I am.”
Her eyes are luminous in the dim light and I don’t want to talk about anything that won’t put a smile on her face. “I’m sorry. This is a really depressing conversation.”
“It isn’t. And I asked. Death is a part of life.”
“That’s true, but I’m talking about myself too much. Tell me about your family. Your parents…they’re sort of famous.”
She sighs and shifts a little on the couch. Her hand leaves my arm to reach for the wine glass on the side table, and I miss the gentle pressure.
“Ah, yes,” she says.
“I may have done some light stalking,” I admit.
She gives me the side eye before taking a sip of the wine. “You don’t say.”
“Are you close with them?”
“Ha!”
“I guess that’s a no?”
She swirls the wine glass in her hand and turns a little to face me, resting her elbow on the back of the sofa. ““Jasper and Violet Jackson. Famed artists and creative geniuses,” she intones with a sigh. “I never see them. You know they’re gonna be here at some fancy show in Harlem, and they didn’t even tell me? My Granny told me. She says I should go see them, but . . .”
“You don’t want to?”
She shrugs. “If I want to be ignored by my parents, I can do that from the privacy of my own home in my jammies, no need to be shamed in public.”
“They wouldn’t ignore you, would they?”
“Eh, they might make an effort for a few minutes then they would get distracted by someone more exciting.