Every Wrong Reason

I started walking toward the back door and they abandoned their plight to steal leftover marshmallows and followed me. I knew they would. I was an awesome aunt.

We stepped into the su

My parents had a small back yard, longer than it was wide and sandwiched between two identical lawns on either side. The yard was bordered by a chain link fence that had been replicated down the line in either direction. There was a satellite that hung on the back of the fence and a garden my mother worked tirelessly on that stretched from one side of the yard to the other. They had a short deck that held their grill and on the patio beneath, a covered swing that would fit the three of us perfectly.

I grew up in this house. My parents were both born and bred Chicagoans and they made sure their children had the same fate.

It was one of the things I was most grateful for. I loved this city. I loved its pretty architecture and bustling downtown. I loved my parents’ neighborhood and my neighborhood and the specific feel of it just being home. I loved Lake Michigan. I loved the tourist traps and the shopping. I loved the food scene. And the music scene. I loved everything about this city.

My parents’ house hadn’t changed much since I was a kid. They’d taken down the rickety metal swing set Josh and I grew up with, but only so they could replace it with safer outdoor toys for the girls. There was a sandbox now where I used to swing and a lone plastic slide that the girls barely played with anymore. They were getting too big.

Delaney was eight and Addison was five. I knew Josh and Emily were done having kids so I wondered if my parents pla

“Auntie Kate, push us!” Addy demanded sweetly.

I dug my toes into the cement and pushed off so hard the swing rocked back and forth on its legs. The girls giggled uncontrollably as we forced the swing as high and fast as it could go.

I was just convinced I was going to have to buy my mom a new swing, because we were on the verge of breaking hers, when Emily poked her head out the back door and called us in for lunch.

The girls jumped off and raced inside, acting as if they’d never been fed before. I moved more slowly. It had been such a breath of fresh air to play with my nieces, but they often left a gaping hole in the place that wanted kids of my own.

Emily waited for me at the door and I noticed her nervous smile as soon as I stepped onto the deck.

“What’s wrong?” I asked carefully.

“Your parents did something really stupid,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I would have warned you sooner if I had known.”

“What did they do?” Panic and fear blinded me. I thought back on all of the other stupid things they’d done throughout the years and could only imagine how bad it was this time if Emily had come out to warn me.

“Nick is here,” she whispered.

“What?” My voice was not a whisper. It was half shriek, half demonic growl. I couldn’t even imagine why he would be over here. I couldn’t imagine any scenario in which my parents would invite him over. “Oh, my god. The sweet potato casserole.”

Emily placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what they were thinking.”

“They obviously weren’t,” I snapped, then immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry,” I winced. “It’s just… this is the very worst possible time for me to see him again.”

I closed my eyes and remembered our Friday night together. I felt his lips on my temple, kissing me goodnight. I blinked and pictured us screaming at each other across the house, pissed and unforgiving and oh so broken. I pictured the last night we fought, as he picked up his pillow and left me on the bed… left me for months without a word.

I pictured him at the grocery store, lost… lost without me… lost in a new existence that neither of us anticipated.

I did not need to see Nick right now. I needed as much time and separation as I could get from him. The only thing lunch would do was confuse me more. And we would have to be so fake. It’s not like we could hash out our years of issues in front of my parents and my brother and his perfect freaking family.

I looked at the backyard and contemplated my escape.

“Are you really going to run away?”

I could tell Emily was laughing at me, but this was so much more serious than she realized.

“I was thinking about it.” I let out an aggravated sigh.

“Emily and Kate, the food is getting cold!” My mother’s voice sounded shrill and irritated through the house.

I looked at Emily, hoping she would have a solution. “It’s just one lunch,” she shrugged. She held the door open wider and I stepped through it, knowing there was no way to avoid the impending train wreck.

I breathed deeply and made it to the dining room, where I stopped breathing altogether.

Sure enough, Nick was there.

Our eyes locked and I could feel his uncertainty pulsing off him in waves. He stood when he saw me, pushing back from the chair and making an awkward gesture of helplessness with his hands.

His smile was nervous and he looked as nice as he did the other day. Another oxford, this one a deep gray that brought out the blue in his eyes.

“What are you doing-” I had just about asked him why he was here, but he was right when he accused me of always being surprised to see him.

Even though this time I felt justified.

I started to wonder if I really did expect that he would stop living after I left him. Not that I wanted him to die, I just couldn’t imagine his story apart from mine. I couldn’t picture him in a life that didn’t include me or a future that didn’t revolve around me.

Did that make me the most self-absorbed person in the world?

Nick’s lips twitched tellingly from obvious nerves. “I called your dad last week to see if I could pick up the amps we’d stored in his garage.”

“I forgot about those.” I cut a look to my dad, who was stalwartly avoiding eye contact with me.

“I knew we’d be home today,” my dad told his roast chicken.

“I invited him to lunch,” my mother declared. I looked at her, my eyes bugging out of my head. “What?” she gasped i

Their son???

They missed him? They couldn’t stand him!

I turned back to Nick with wide eyes, expecting him to be as skeptical of my parents as I was. But his gaze had narrowed and his smile had turned into a hard line.

“I’m sorry,” I told him sincerely.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he answered curtly.

“Sit down,” my father demanded. “The food’s getting cold.”

I did as I was told, which meant I took the seat next to Nick. It was convenient how that was the only one left open.

We started to pass the food around the table and conversation began, but it was stilted and forced. My entire body prickled with unease. It was one thing to face Nick in my house, away from other people and prying eyes. But it was something else entirely to be on display in front of my family.

I felt their judgment skyrocket. I felt my own guilt triple. It was so stupid. I shouldn’t have to deal with this!

When everyone but Nick and I was engaged in conversation, he leaned in and murmured, “You don’t have to throw a temper tantrum. I won’t bother you for long.”

I gave him a fast glare and refocused on tearing my biscuit to shreds. “I’m not throwing a temper tantrum.”

“Oh, really?” his chuckle was dark and without humor.

“Why do you need your amps? I thought you didn’t like their sound?”

He stabbed at his chicken with his fork and knife, sawing them savagely. “Is it a crime to come over to your parents’ house? To get my stuff?”