I'd never seen Meg look so tired.
Her eyes were dark and droopy. Her hair was scraped back away from her face, and her spine curved forward as she walked under the weight of her shoulders. She moved around the house like a zombie, each step slow and mechanical, and barely heard me when I spoke to her. I'd tried to distract her with some light conversation at dinner, but she wasn't particularly receptive. I couldn't blame her.
After dinner, she collapsed onto the sofa. She wasn't asleep—she just stared at the television as it blared some un-funny sitcom at her, eyes empty. I folded laundry at the kitchen table, half keeping an ear out just in case anything changed. I thought it would be best just to let her ride it out. She'd talk when she was ready.
There was a knock at the door at around seven.
Elliot was stood on the doorstep, tufts of orange hair poking out from under a thick woollen hat and hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his massive coat. He seemed disgruntled with the Forks weather, the frown lines of his forehead deepening with every second.
"Hey," I said softly, beckoning him inside.
"Hi." His tone was a little curt.
"You want a drink or something?"
"No, I'm good. Thanks."
"Meg's in the living room," I said. "If you wanted to say hello."
He hesitated in the centre of the kitchen, pressing his lips together. "Uh...yeah. Okay."
"Is that Elliot?"
We both turned our heads in the direction of the sofa at the call, Meg half-twisted around in order to see us.
"Hey," Elliot said as he headed toward her.
She stood up and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. I watched in mild confusion.
"It's good to see you, honey," she said, pulling back and cupping his face in her hand. Her movements were still a little sluggish, but her eyes had brightened a little. "How are you doing?"
"Okay, all things considered," he murmured, making an attempt at a smile.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot and waited.
"What about you?" he added, after a moment.
She pressed her lips into a thin line and tilted her head. "I've been better. Do you want tea? Or food? You must be hungry."
"I already offered, Meg-
"Uh...sure. Tea would be nice."
I blinked at him as Meg bustled past me toward the kitchen, leaving the blanket that had previously been wrapped around her shoulders abandoned on the couch. Elliot moved to follow her, but then stopped, eyes caught on the crib in the corner of the room. His face went blank and he remained still for a few seconds, and then turned his head to look at me.
"Oh, yeah," I said. "That's your nephew."
His eyebrows flew up. "Oh."
I walked over to the crib and peeked over the side. Ethan was fast asleep, head turned to the side and little hands clutching at the blanket over him, pink pacifier between his plump lips. Elliot appeared at my side, a little cautious, and looked down at him, taking a deep breath.
"What's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "What's his name?"
"Ethan," I said softly, reaching down to take a strand of his hair between my fingers.
"Nephew," Elliot murmured, brow crinkling. "Right."
I glanced at him. "You best go get that tea."
"We only have peppermint," Meg rambled as we came into the kitchen. "I hope that's okay."
"That's fine," Elliot said.
I sat down at the table, lacing my hands together in front of me and steeling myself. I didn't know how to have the conversation that was looming above our heads, but it had to be done.
Meg slid a cup toward Elliot and placed one down in front of me, bringing a small smile to my lips. She sat at the head of the table and Elliot opposite me, and then a thick silence fell. No one wanted to start talking.
"So," Meg sighed. "This is shit."
I nodded slowly.
"Someone has to go and sort through her belongings," Elliot said, before letting out a light scoff. "Not that there were many."
"I hate to ask," I said, "but it was definitely suicide?"
He nodded gravely. "The needle was still in her arm when they found her."
I felt nauseous.
"I don't mind going back," Elliot said. "But it might be easier if I don't go alone. Things will be smoother, and quicker."
"I can't."
His eyes flashed up to meet mine.
"I can't leave Ethan," I added quickly.
"I could try and get some time off work," Meg said. "Might be easier if I deal with the lawyers, too."
"I'd appreciate the help," Elliot said.
There was another bout of silence.
"What about the funeral?"
"Cremation or burial?" Elliot asked.
"Cremation," Meg answered. "That's the Clarke way, always has been. We're cremated, and then our ashes are sprinkled by the sea."
I glanced at her. It made sense, considering our heritage.
"So, we'll need to get the body transported here, then?" Elliot mused.
I couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief. Even the idea of going back to Meridian made me want to vomit.
"I can't imagine that she had any assets," Meg said, arching an eyebrow. "Or even a will, for that matter. I'm not sure there will be much to divvy up between you two."
"I don't want anything from her," I said quietly.
Elliot scratched the bridge of his nose and sniffed. "Me neither."
Meg looked between the two of us. "I know she was difficult. And selfish. But addiction does things to a person." Her eyes glazed over. "Changes them."
"I don't blame her for it," I said. "But it doesn't stop me being angry at her."
She smiled sadly. "I don't expect it to. She was a complicated woman."
"She was a bit of a bitch," Elliot mumbled under his breath.
Meg's bottom lip wobbled. "I know. But she was my sister, and I will miss her."
I reached across the table and took Meg's hand in my own and squeezed. Pressure started to build up behind my eyes and in the top of my throat, but I bit down hard on my tongue. I wasn't going to cry.
"So, uh..." Elliot said, eyes settling on my face. "When were you going to tell me about the kid?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Hard to tell someone something when they've disappeared off the face of the earth."
His jaw tightened. "Who's the father?"
I paled.
"Do you want some food, honey?" Meg asked, looking pointedly at Elliot in hopes that he would ease off.
"I mean, I did wonder why you weren't in school anymore," he said, still looking at me, "but I didn't expect this. Or that you'd move to another state to get away from it."
"I'm getting my diploma," I shot back. "I'm not even eighteen yet, I have time."
"Who's the father?" he repeated, eyes hard. "Football player? Science club? Don't tell me it's one of those Drama Club boys-
"Why does it matter?" I cut in sharply.
He folded his arms across his chest. "Is he paying child support? Does he even know about the kid?"
"Elliot," Meg said.
"Where was this concern when it was just me?" I snapped. "Why do you suddenly care about what goes on in my life?"
"Since you obviously aren't as responsible as I thought," he retorted.
I flinched as if I'd been slapped in the face.
"Elliot, that's enough," Meg said, tone stern.
"You, of all people, Imogen, I would expect to be aware of the consequences of bringing a child into the world when you aren't ready," he said sharply. "Look what it did to mum."
"Don't you dare compare me to her!"
"Okay, both of you, stop!"
The volume of Meg's voice sliced through my anger and I recoiled in my chair. Elliot dropped his eyes to the table and gritted his teeth but didn't say anything more.
"You need to cool off," she said, eyes hardening. "We will not argue right now. We haven't been together in a long time, and right now, family is more important than ever. Okay?"
"Okay," I breathed, staring down at my hands.
"Yeah, fine," Elliot sighed.
"Good," Meg said, taking a breath. "Now—Elliot, do you want something to eat? There are leftovers in the fridge-
"No," he cut in, standing. "I better get back to the motel."
"What?" Meg said. "You're staying in a motel?"
He blinked at her. "Yeah?"
"Don't be stupid," she scoffed. "Why are you paying to stay there when you could stay here for free?"
My head snapped up. "We don't have room."
She shot me a stern look.
"Oh, uh, no," he said. "It's fine, honestly-
"Nonsense," she said, staring him down. "Go check out and bring your stuff here. I'll make up the camp bed for you."
He glanced at me and I let out a sigh.
"Fine," I said.
He arched an eyebrow. "Fine."
~~~
"He's been here five minutes and I already want to strangle him," I grumbled, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of my jumper.
Jasper sighed on the other side of the phone. "He is doing a good job of making his neck look like a pepper grinder."
I let out an amused huff.
The painted pebble lay nestled on the bed to the left of my leg, the flowers aggressively vivid against the crisp, white bedsheets. I'd been trying to figure out a way to make it into a necklace or something, so I didn't constantly have a bump in my pocket that dug into my leg every time I sat down.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fed up," I said. "Everything was going so well."
He hummed in agreement.
"I just..." I ran my tongue over my lower lip. "I hope it gets sorted quickly. I want everything to be simple again."
"It wasn't that simple before," he said.
"But I'd gotten used to it. haven't done the whole grief thing before." I snorted. "I don't even know if I'm doing that right."
"There's no right way to grieve, Im."
I frowned at my hand. "Then why do I feel so incompetent?"
There was a pause.
"It's different for everyone," he said softly. "And your relationship with your mother was...complicated-
I interrupted him with a bitter laugh.
"-so, it's bound to feel weird. You can't compare it to anyone else's idea of grief, because it's yours."
My frown became a scowl. "You're right."
"I know."
"You need to stop doing that. It's annoying."
"I'll try my best."
My stomach fluttered.
"Sorry," I sighed. "Accidentally started using you for free therapy, there. How are you? How was your day?"
His laugh made my skin tingle. "Fine. The same as always."
"Yeah, you don't lead a particularly exciting life, do you?"
"Too much time, not enough to do."
"Well, I might come and ruin that peace and tranquillity for you at some point," I said. "Meg and Elliot might be heading back to Idaho for a few days this week."
"Oh?"
"Sort through mum's belongings, and stuff."
"Ah, right, I see."
I waited, arching an eyebrow. "Is that okay, or-
"Yes. Yeah, of course."
I blinked. "You're not sounding particularly convincing."
"Sorry," he chuckled. "Definitely come over. I want to see you."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're being weird."
"I am not being weird-
"So weird. So very weird."
"Imogen-
"So weird that I've almost forgotten what normalcy is. What's capitalism? Is it eat the rich or burn the poor?"
"Oh my God, shut up," he laughed. "I'm not being weird, I'm just..."
"Just what?"
"Cautious."
"Why?"
"Well, the last time we saw each other..."
My lips stretched into a grin. "Yes?"
"Don't make me say it."
"No, no, I want to hear you say it."
"I hate you so much-
"I'm waiting."
There was a fizzy silence.
"Okay, then," he said, a new confidence to his voice—almost smug. "What are we, Clarke?"
I faltered. "Huh?"
"The last time we saw each other, we had a rather confusing conversation that ended with us kissing, and then we didn't speak about it for the rest of the night," he said. "So—what are we?"
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
"You wanted me to say it."
"I, uh..." I cleared my throat. "I wasn't expecting you to be so direct."
"I ask so that when you come over next," he said, "I know whether or not I'm allowed to kiss you again."
My stomach swooped and I went lightheaded at the thought. "Um..."
"I'm waiting," he said, tone tinged with smugness.
My parted lips moved into a wry smile. "I mean, I don't know what we are, exactly, but..." I bit my lip. "...if you were to kiss me, I wouldn't be offended."
He snorted. "Good to know."
"Also, who's to say I wouldn't try and kiss you first?"
I felt as if all of my organs had been shaken up, still quivering with aftershock as the stretch of quiet lengthened.
"Go to sleep, Clarke," he said finally. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Oh, you will?"
"I will. Goodnight."
I took a breath. "Night."