"They have a dining room," Jared said, eyes wide as he took in the modernist design inside the Bell house, including the huge, block-like table that had been set up with silverware and evergreen centrepieces. He scratched under the collar of his button-down shirt, clearly uncomfortable. His hair had grown out of the severe buzzcut he'd worn over the summer, and his beard was trimmed to emphasize the shape of his jaw. Valarie had never seen him so dressed up before. "Like, an actual room for just dining."
"They have an elevator," Valarie said.
"What?" His eyes went even wider.
She nodded. "And a pool."
"Fuck me," he said, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered views into the forest. Thick snowflakes leisurely floated to the ground and disappeared into the grass. It was the first snowfall of the year. "I'm so glad you're here, Val. You can kick me under the table if I say something stupid."
She eyed the table. "I don't think I could even reach you."
He sent her a look of panic.
"You'll be fine. Mr. Bell is..." When she could think of nothing comforting to say, she changed tactics. "I like your jacket."
His shoulders rolled, as if remembering the weight of his blazer. "Tora picked it out. She found it at the thrift store." He paused. "Fuck, I shouldn't have smoked a blunt before this. I think I'm getting paranoid. I've never had a girlfriend bring me home before."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he said. "Mostly we'd get high at my house, and they'd dump me after two months."
"You're gonna be fine. Just... don't say that to Mr. Bell." Valarie hesitated, checking to see that Grace or Alice or Mr. Bell wasn't about to barge back in from the kitchen. "Theo told me something the other day... about you and Grace."
"Hmm?"
"About you guys leaving together."
"Oh," he said. "I've always wanted to go to Toronto."
"So it's true?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm finally getting the fuck out of here."
She remembered Theo's words in the hospital: he wouldn't leave me behind like that. Valarie held back a wince. "Wow," she said. "You must really like Grace."
"Yeah, most of the time." He laughed nervously. "But, you know, love isn't supposed to be easy. And–and I've never had anyone even want to bring me home to meet their Dad before. Most of my relationships last, like, two months."
Valarie nodded and smiled.
Jared looked at her, blinked. "I said something twice, didn't I?"
"Well–"
"I can tell from the look on your face," he said. "Fuck. Okay, you gotta kick me if I'm doing that too. I don't wanna embarrass Grace."
"I'm sure she'd understand if–"
"She wouldn't," he said, the humour leaving his voice all at once. "She doesn't like it when I forget things. Please, Val."
"Uh–yeah," she stammered. "Okay, but–"
Grace came back into the room, carrying bowls of bread and salad. Jared rushed over to help her. "Thanks, babe," she said, planting a quick kiss on Jared's cheek. Grace wore a cinched dress and a full face of make-up, making Valarie feel woefully underdressed in a floral blouse she'd borrowed from Mom.
"Can–can I help with anything?" Valarie asked.
"That's okay." Grace smiled at her. "We're just about done. You can sit down."
"Right." Valarie took the seat furthest from the end, where she assumed Mr. Bell would be sitting. Jared positioned himself across from her with a wink, and, after placing the bowls on the table, Grace sat down beside him. They sat angled towards each other, and Valarie could tell that Grace had placed her hand on his leg under the table.
She cleared her throat and looked towards the kitchen door, hoping that Alice would be out soon. "So," Valarie said, trying to fill the silence. "Real nice of your Dad to invite us over for dinner."
"You think so?" Grace said, only half-looking at Valarie.
"Uh, yeah," she said. "I've never really been in a house like this before."
"You're not nervous?"
"Well, um, should I be?"
Grace shrugged. "He wants to make sure you're good for Alice. That's the reason for all of this, you know?"
Valarie shifted in her seat. "I mean, I figured he wanted to meet–"
"Well, sure," Grace said. "But Alice has her history, and we don't want to see her go through something like that again. I'm sure you can understand. It's for your benefit as much as it is hers. Better to figure this stuff out before things get worse."
Valarie blinked. "I'm sorry. I don't think I'm following. What's getting worse?"
"You know. Alice." Grace looked at Valarie like she was stupid. "The two of you. Before Alice gets too attached." Grace continued to stare. "What, Alice didn't tell you?"
Valarie sat forward. "Tell me what?"
"Babe–" Jared began.
Grace ignored him. "About her mental breakdown?"
Valarie was struck by the feeling that Grace had turned everything inside out before Valarie even knew what was happening. "I–I heard she quit ballet," she said, unsure if that was even saying too much.
Grace dropped into a whisper that was barely quieter than her normal voice. "It was fucked up. She got super drunk and peeled, like, half of the skin off of her hand. I mean, it was a total hack job. Must have taken her hours to do that much damage. It bled so much. She went on stage like that, like nothing was wrong." Grace shivered, and Jared rubbed her back. "I feel sick just remembering it. She basically traumatized everyone who was there. People still talk about it, it was so awful–so embarrassing."
Valarie's heart twisted, and she felt like she didn't know which way was up, even as she hadn't moved from her chair.
"Listen," Grace leaned forward. "No matter what my Dad thinks about you, I think you must be a goddamn saint for sticking by her."
"I–"
"No, seriously. Good for you. You're probably the best thing that's happened to her in a while. I know I couldn't do it."
"It's not like it's charity work," Valarie blurted out, bewildered. "We're friends."
"I get that." Grace smiled. "But just know, that whenever you get fed up, we'll understand. There won't be any hard feelings."
"I'd have hard feelings."
"Pardon, what?"
"I said that I'd have hard feelings," Valarie repeated, only half-knowing what she meant. "I'd be upset is what I mean. If we weren't friends."
Grace tilted her head, cat-like. "Huh," she said. "Interesting."
As Valarie attempted to find a reply, Mr. Bell finally pushed through the swinging door, carrying a cast-iron pan with oven mitts. Alice followed closely behind, hands full with a large pot. Valarie rushed to make room on the table.
She hadn't realized that she was expecting a meal like she'd seen in historical dramas, where each plate had sixteen different types of fork, until everyone was seated and began serving themselves like normal people. The biggest difference to Valarie was that Mr. Bell gestured for Grace to say a prayer, and they all had to pause and bow their heads before they could eat. She caught Alice's eye while Grace was blessing the food. Alice gave a covert half-shrug that said just go with it.
Mr. Bell had prepared steak and mashed potatoes. The steak melted in Valarie's mouth into buttery rosemary goodness. That was another difference–she'd never had a cut of meat like this. "Holy shit," she said, grinning. Across the table, Jared was having a similar reaction. "Sorry. Mr. Bell, this is amazing."
He nodded. "Thank you. I'm glad." He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat slightly. "Alice tells me that your family is Italian. What kind of food do you have at home?"
"Well," she said, already cutting into her next piece. "I do most of the cooking these days–if you even wanna call it cooking. I wouldn't. But, uh, growing up I ate really well. A lot of pasta, fish, soup, that kind of stuff. My Mom's new boyfriend seems like a pretty good cook, too. He made these pancakes the other day..." She realized she was rambling when she looked up to see Mr. Bell's face. "Anyways, yeah."
"Her grandma made the best lasagna," Jared added. "I miss her tomato sauce."
"Yeah," Valarie nodded. "She made her own noodles and everything. I used to help her. She had this big rolly thing for flattening the dough. She, uh, never wrote down any of her recipes, though. They were all in her head. It's too bad." She forced a smile before taking another bite of food. She felt Alice looking at her.
Mr. Bell gestured between her and Jared. "You two know each other then?"
"We're neighbours," Valarie and Jared replied together.
"And, Jared, what do your parents do?"
"My Dad is in sales," Jared said, not skipping a beat.
"Dad," Grace said. "Maybe we can stop with the interrogation now?"
"It's just a few questions."
"It's a lot of questions," Grace said.
Mr. Bell lifted his hands in surrender before cutting into his steak.
Valarie looked over at Alice, who busied herself with shifting food around on her plate. She'd eaten little and spoken even less. Valarie had seen it before–how Alice shrunk into the smallest, quietest version of herself around her family. She wondered if Alice even realized she was doing it or if it had become something like a reflex.
Under the table, Valarie shifted her foot until it found Alice's. Alice's eyes flashed towards her, surprised, before a tiny smile crossed her mouth. Valarie felt an answering weight on her foot and smiled down at her plate. When she looked up, she found Grace watching the two of them from across the table.
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but before any words could come out, Alice asked, "How's student council going?"
"Frustrating," Grace said, after a pause. "Nobody listens to who they should be listening to."
"They don't listen to you?"
"Nope."
Mr. Bell spoke up. "How have you been communicating your ideas?"
"The problem isn't how I'm communicating," Grace said. "It's that they aren't listening. Mom agreed with me. The other kids are being short-sighted."
Jared nodded, and neither Alice nor Mr. Bell seemed to have anything to say to that.
Grace ploughed on: "I can't wait to get back home."
Mr. Bell ignored this. "Maybe you can give the other kids another chance. They might surprise you."
"It doesn't matter anyways," Grace said, taking a bite of food. "I'm leaving for Toronto soon. Jared's coming with me."
Valarie expected this announcement to receive more of a reaction, but Mr. Bell didn't even blink. "You know what I think about that."
"You think I'm bluffing. That we won't actually do it."
"Yes."
"Well, you're wrong. I can make my own decisions. I won't be forced to exist in the middle of nowhere just cause Alice went crazy. I'm dying out here."
"Yes, your life is very hard," Mr. Bell said. "Alice, can you please pass the salad?"
Alice passed the salad.
"Thank you."
Grace glared at the both of them.
The rest of the meal proceeded in an equally awkward, stilted manner. Valarie attempted to kick Jared's foot once as he was explaining the merits of not going to college to Mr. Bell, but she couldn't reach. From the way he abruptly cut himself short, she suspected that Grace had done the job for her.
Valarie excused herself shortly after dinner, ignoring the look of panic Jared sent her.
Alice walked her out, hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans. "Was it that bad?"
"Hmm?" Valarie fiddled with her car keys, distracted. "The dinner? No, that wasn't bad at all. I had a good time. I just... I gotta get back to Nonno."
"I thought your Mom was watching him for the night?"
"She is, yeah."
"But...?"
"But what?"
"But you're rushing to leave," Alice said. "You don't trust her with him?"
Valarie blinked, startled by the line of questioning. "No, it's not that at all. I'm like a puppy or something. I get, like, separation anxiety." She didn't know how else to articulate the part of her brain that was always tugging her home. "It's just... I should be the one watching him, y'know?"
"Not really." Her voice became more careful. "She's his daughter."
"He–he raised me. I should be the one..." Valarie's heart picked up as she struggled to articulate herself. "They never got along."
"So that makes it okay when she leaves you to watch him alone for weeks and weeks?" The carefulness in Alice's voice built into something more fierce. "That doesn't make you angry? It's not your fault that they don't get along."
"I'm just... not. I don't know." Valarie wanted this conversation to be over. She found her feet pulling her faster and faster towards the parked van. "I know it's not my fault, but, like..." She gestured uselessly at the air around her. "I'm responsible, you know?"
"No." Alice shook her head. "I don't. I don't understand."
Valarie came to a stop by the driver's side door, staring into the darkened window rather than back at Alice. She squeezed her eyes shut for two long breaths before turning back to face Alice. "Do you know about my Mom?" she asked.
Alice pressed her lips together in a tight line, and Valarie could see understanding on her face. "Parts," she said. "I've heard... from Grace."
Valarie nodded, unsurprised. "That's how it is here. Something bad happens, and everybody is going to be talking about it until the end of time." She took a deep breath and met Alice's eyes. "My Mom was fifteen when I was born. The guy–the biological–well, he was a cop. It was in the news. There was a trial. It was fucking horrible." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the van. "My grandparents didn't... react very well, and Mom never forgave them. And, yeah, I get it. Like, she hates coming home, I know it. The way people still talk about her, how she was treated..." She paused. "How can I be angry with her? Like, I get it. I don't blame her for needing distance."
She watched as her words cycled through Alice's head. When the silence continued to stretch, a mild panic settled in Valarie's gut as she began to ramble. "She would have stuck him in a home somewhere when he started getting sick. He would have forgotten things faster, being somewhere he didn't know anybody. I know Mom has her reasons for hating him, but he always took care of me. And–and I like watching after him. Even if maybe I don't really know who he is–or was. I don't know. I don't know if he was a good person. He's been like this since I was a kid."
Again, Alice took her time before speaking. "Does it matter anymore?"
"What?"
"If he made mistakes, if he reacted wrong," Alice said. "He's not the same anymore."
"I don't..." Valarie shrugged. "It matters to Mom."
"Thank God he has you, then," Alice said with the easiest certainty. She darted forward to place a kiss on Valarie's cheek. "Thank you for telling me."
Warmth flooded through her face. "You already knew."
"Still," Alice said. "But I still think you have a right to be angry with your Mom."
Valarie shrugged, reaching out to find Alice's hand with her own. "I just... I don't know. I take what I can get."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to give her any reason to disappear on me," she said. "Sometimes I wonder, like, if Nonno wasn't sick..."
"That you wouldn't see her at all?"
Valarie nodded. "That sounds bad."
"I get it," Alice said. "Feeling like you would be anything, do anything."
"Your Mom?"
Alice nodded. "You know what I learned once she was actually out of my life?"
"What?"
"That it was barely a relationship. It was a hostage situation."
"Are you angry with her?"
"Sometimes," Alice said. "Mainly I think about how things could have turned out different. Valarie, people that are real... they don't ditch you once you've stopped serving their purpose, once they don't need you anymore." She swallowed. "You deserve better than how your Mom treats you."
All the words dried up in Valarie's mouth as some part of her struggled against what Alice was saying. It felt like a dangerous idea that threatened something very fundamental to her. Love was not given but earned. She knew that. She'd always known that.
Alice watched her. "You don't believe me."
Valarie's mouth opened and shut. "I..."
"I'll prove it to you."
"You will?"
Alice nodded, a cat's smile rising to her lips. "Mhmm. I'll keep annoying you for as long as you'll let me."
Valarie's heart soared. She reached out for Alice's other hand, feeling the ice of her fingers. She gathered the hand between two of her own and rubbed the rough, calloused landscape of Alice's skin.
"You're so warm all the time," Alice said.
"Am I?"
"It's a good thing. I'm always cold."
"Are we talking about this?" she asked, gently smoothing out the scar tissue around Alice's knuckles.
For a long stretch of silence, they stood like that, Valarie's thumb drawing slow circles on Alice's skin. Normally, the quiet would have made Valarie panic, but Alice wasn't pulling away. She just needed time.
"Another bad habit," Alice said, finally. "Since forever. My parents used to cover my hands in tape when I was a kid to keep me from picking at my skin whenever I got nervous or mad or whatever." She flexed her hand and stared at it like it didn't belong to her. "Kinda gross, I know."
"No. Just sounds painful."
"I heard what Grace said to you about what I did."
"You heard all that?"
"She knew I could. The walls are thin in the kitchen." Alice shrugged. "I've gotten better about the picking."
Valarie pulled Alice closer until they stood only inches apart. "I'm glad."
"You're still not running away?"
Valarie smiled and shook her head. "Still here."
Alice brought their clasped hands to her mouth and pressed a reverent kiss to Valarie's knuckles. Alice mouthed a silent thank you, and Valarie's heart pounded as the promise I'll prove it to you looped through her head with a new, dangerous kind of hope.