BY THE TIME I GOT BACK INSIDE with the rest of the wedding supplies, Tess told me that Vienna had already gone upstairs to bed, even if it was only seven pm.
My shoulders sagged and my throat ran dry.
"Did she tell you why?"
Tessa narrowed her eyes, scanning me over. "She said she was jetlagged from her flight and went on upstairs."
Yeah, sure, that was it.
"By the way, Angie said you had to help clean up the dishes with me," she informed me. Even though I was exhausted and jetlagged too, I agreed anyway. I began picking up the leftover dishes and started washing them, with Tessa drying them and putting them away. By the sound of it, Uncle T, Angie, and Payton were all in the living room watching Christmas specials.
Although I probably should have been concentrating on not breaking any of Angie's dishes, my mind was someplace else. Even though I managed to not think about her for a while after our confrontation outside, I learned that trying not to think about someone techincally still counts as thinking about them. I couldn't help but hate myself for making Vienna feel so terrible. And for a whole year, too. I should have done better. I should have sent a letter or tried to find her on Facebook, or something to apologize. Yelling at her to leave and then never talking to her again sent the wrong message; the opposite one that I wanted to send. I tried to get in touch with her by looking through the phone book right before I left for Denmark, but when I found the only Vienna Dawson, she was a sixty-three year old woman who owned a corn factory.
"Elliot, you're putting too much soap!" Tess screamed then, pulling me out of my thoughts and making me realize that my hand had been pressing the soap dispenser for a long time. Now there were suds almost coming out of the sink.
"Shoot, my bad," I rinsed off the sink as best I could, trying to get my grip on another dish.
I could feel Tess's gaze slowly burning through me. She asked slowly, "Elliot, are you okay?"
The was the exact thing I didn't want her to ask.
"Yeah," I gave my best smile, "I'm fine. Jetlagged, but I'm okay. I mean, why wouldn't I be?"
Tessa put her dishcloth down. "You've been acting really strange since Vienna got here."
I kept a clear focus on a food stain that wouldn't come off on this one dish. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
The stain wouldn't come off, so I scrubbed harder. "That's ridiculous, T. What makes you think that?"
"It's just that...whenever you and Vienna are in the same room together, you act like you're angry at yourself. Or sad. Kinda both."
"It's nothing, Tess." I scrubbed even harder.
"You wanna know what, though?" she insisted.
I sighed heavily, "What, Tess?"
"She acts the same exact way you do."
Tess resumed to drying off dishes, but I stopped scrubbing. "It's like," she continued, "you're both synchronised. Like twins. It's pretty weird, if you ask me."
I shook it all away, blinking, before cleaning another plate. "You're imagining things, Tess."
"No, I'm not, El," she almost snapped. "I know I'm not imagining things because I know you a lot better than you think. You get this weird look in your eyes, and sometimes you stare off into space and it looks like you're frozen. And when you look at her, you don't look at her like you used to do. When you look at her, it's like you're not even Elliot anymore."
"Alright, alright. I screwed up with Vienna, and I don't know if I can take it back."
Tess widened her eyes. "You and Vienna dated? I knew it! I freaking knew it! Ever since you brought her, ya'll have been my one true pairing, my main ship! I knew--"
"--No. We didn't date, I never said that," I cut in. And in an effort to save Tess the effort of asking so many questions, I decided to tell her straight out. "The night Sam died, I blamed her for her death and I yelled at her to go home. I blamed her for everything."
I hung my head down, flipping on the sink and trying to resume washing the dishes again. I'd get it if Vienna never looked at me the same way again, but if my own cousin thought wrong of me, I don't think I could ever forgive myself.
Tess's mouth dropped, forming a little 'o'. She sucked in a faint little gasp as her eyes widened to the size of melons. Her unsaid sympathy was written all over her face, but she couldn't find the right words to say.
"Elliot..."
"I didn't mean to, alright? It was right after Sam died, and after a week of trying hard and doing everything that's humanly possible to get back to a person only to have them die right in front of you does some things to a person, okay?" I replied.
I then lowered my voice, adding, "Even if you didn't mean the things you said."
After a moment, I glanced at Tess, and she was staring at me with pitying and sympathetic eyes that told me that even though it wasn't her problem, she treated it like it was, which made her want to help even more.
"So that's why you two were acting so strange. You guys had baggage."
"Uh, yeah, I guess."
"And I'm guessing Vienna didn't take it too well?"
I shrugged. "To put it short, I don't think she even wants to look at my face without wanting to bolt from the room."
"And you don't want her to be?"
I shrugged; the last thing I wanted to do was to spill some "feelings" to my teenage cousin.
"You like her, don't you?" Tess said suddenly, looking over her shoulder.
I stopped what I was doing, letting that question sink in. I had a lot of confidence in that question when I boarded the plane with those crappy pieces of letters in my pocket, and even now when Vienna hated my guts with pure, solid anger that might never go away, I still knew I loved her.
"You do," my cousin confirmed with a soft, knowing grin. "You totally do."
"Doesn't matter, she can't even look me in the face anymore," I lowered my voice and rinsed the last plate of the night, handing it to Tess, who thought this over with a calculating face.
"Then you need to make it up to her," she said, like this was a well-known fact.
I shook my head, feeling even more tired. "Didn't you hear her phone calls? Eli is coming. And I know you probably think I'm stupid, but I'm not. I know how Eli's probably been in touch with her for the past year. Who knows how things might've changed?"
"I don't think you're stupid Elliot," Tess protested. "I know you're not because you're going to fix this."
"How?"
"It's easy. You just have to make an effort."
* * *
After washing the dishes, I couldn't take the exhaustion anymore. All I wanted was to collapse onto the guest bed and not wake up for three months. At least.
I excused myself from Uncle Terrence and everyone else, saying goodnight and disappearing upstairs, my eyelids getting heavier with each step. I stumbled through the guest room and plopped back on the bed, making the mattress jump. Staring at the ceiling, I replayed Tess's sage advice, letting it run through my mind.
Honestly, El, if you haven't gotten it already, girls like the effort. They don't care what you get them, only if you actually try, and show it too!
Here I was thinking about my fifteen year old cousin and how she was giving me girl advice.
I needed it.
"An effort," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. "What the hell can I do?"
Vienna probably wouldn't even step two feet near me.
Maybe I can un-monster myself.
I didn't mean to be such a bad person; like I told Tess, I wasn't myself that night. Surely Vienna knows that?
Thinking about her was also exhausting. Instead of running down in my mind again and again, I decided to call it a night.
I walked over to my suitcase, which was tucked neatly beside the door. Zipping it open, I pushed back the lid, expecting to find my clothes, t-shirts, and pants, but instead finding tank tops, bras, and a make-up kit.
Oh shite.
If this was some kind of prank that Tess did, it was funny for the first two seconds. But now, I was confused more than ever. It only occurred to me that the slight possibility of getting another person's suitcase
As I stared blankly at the girl clothes and bras, I knew that somewhere, a girl was just as confused to find boxers in her bag.
Great. Just dandy.
I immediately started looking for the luggage tag, when I found it strapped on the handle.
"This bag belongs to V. McCormick. California," I read aloud. "Who the hell is she?"
It didn't matter who she was. All that mattered was that she had most of my clothes. It wasn't like my wallet or passport was in it; after a well-learned lesson from a certain experience in Tennessee, I learned not to leave those kinds of things away from me. But it was a lot of clothes that I packed in there, not to mention my underwear.
I cringed at the thought of having to borrow Uncle T's clothes. The man was addicted to flannels, camouflage and the occasional stirrup boots. But what else of an option did I have?
Standing and feeling even more deflated, I closed the suitcase. How could I have picked up the wrong bag? I swore, I waited for ten minutes to make sure my bag didn't look like any of the others. And how could it? It was a bright yellow suitcase, the color of a cab. There wasn't much like it, and I didn't see any other person in the small airport walking away with a bag the color of a lemon.
At least I had their address, I thought. I could explain and apologize, but for now, I was stuck without clothes for a whole month.
I made my way downstairs and to Uncle Terrence, explaining him everything that happened. Of course, being the holly jolly Uncle T, he was booming with laughter at the thought of me being stuck with pink lacy bras for a whole month. But nevertheless, he told me where to find the extra clothes.
"Oh, and Elliot?" Uncle T called as I made my way upstairs. "Your mom and dad can't make it tonight."
"What?" I froze, leaning over the banister. "Why not?"
"Something's holding up your dad at the office, but they promised they'll get a flight and make it here tomorrow."
"Oh," I gave a weary smile, "Better late than never, am I right?"
For a long time, my parents have been separated, divorced, back together, and divorced again. For a long time, that meant separate Christmases with one or the other, never both. I was looking forward that for this Christmas, it would finally change.
Ten minutes later, I retrieved Uncle T's clothes from the laundry room. There wasn't much to choose from, and the sizes were three times too big, but I found a pair of flannel pajamas from Uncle T's "thin period."
I was about ready to get into bed, when I passed by Vienna's guest bedroom. The door was almost screaming at me to knock on it. I almost did. I would've given anything to talk to Vienna. But I decided against it. She'd be even more pissed if I woke her up.
"Good night, Vienna," I whispered, before going back into my room.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up the smell of something burning.
For the first few seconds and through the initial morning fogginess, I thought I was back in Denmark. In Denmark, a bunch of students had a central kitchen on campus where everyone cooked together, so if someone was burning something, someone else would most likely take care of it. I almost went back to sleep, expecting Dennis - a social science major from Tanzinia and one of my good friends from the uni - running through the halls with a fire extinguisher screaming in Swahili.
But then I remembered that I wasn't in Denmark anymore.
Instantly, I got out of bed and sprinted into the hall, the strong smell of smoke coming through the house.
"Uncle T! Tess?" I screamed, as I ran down the staircase and bolting into the kitchen.
Instead, I found Vienna trying to whack away the billowing gray smoke coming from the stove.
"Vienna?"
She turned around, a frantic look in her eyes. She started coughing, and I smelled something a lot like burning bacon.
"What the--?" I mumbled, before pushing Vienna back, grabbing the fire extinguisher from under the sink and furiously spraying the stovetop, not really aiming at anything considering the amount of smoke. But when the smoke subsided and cleared away, I saw the faint remnants of blackened bacon in a pan.
"Vienna, what are you doing cooking at--" I glanced at the oven clock, "Seven in the morning?"
Maybe it was the jetlag, but I didn't really feel tired at all. It felt like it was two in the afternoon for me.
"I was just trying to cook myself breakfast," she snapped, pretty harshly at me. "I didn't feel like sleeping and I didn't want to wake your uncle and aunt up. Tess said I was free to anything in the fridge, and normally I wouldn't go through someone else's fridge, but I was pretty hungry, and--"
"Hey, hey," I started gently.
"What?"
"You're rambling again."
"I am?"
"You are."
Vienna started getting red. "Look, I didn't mean to wake everyone up."
"You didn't. You just woke me," I told her.
"How unfortunate for me," I heard her mumble under her breath.
I frowned, my arms sagging. I placed the fire extinguisher back and put the burnt bacon and the pan into the sink before turning to Vienna. I noticed that she was wearing Tessa's clothes, mostly. I knew because it was slightly too small for her. She stood in the middle of the kitchen with her back turned.
"Do you...uh," I cleared my throat, "do you want me to cook breakfast for you?"
She turned around, her eyes still glued to the floor. But for a split second, she glanced up at me and I knew what I had done to her. She was almost scared that I would break and scream at her again.
Then she realized she was slipping, and she stood up straighter, brushing back her hair and pushing aside me.
"No. I'm fine," she said tersely, going to fetch some bread and some butter.
"Are you sure? I mean, I can cook a killer omelet."
"I'm sure," she snapped. "I can do fine without your help."
I retreated backwards. It was obvious she didn't want my company and I wouldn't bother her.
"Alright."
I made my way back upstairs without another look back.
* * *
I tried to fall back asleep, but it was a futile attempt. I turned and tossed, flipped the pillow around to the cold side, but nothing worked. My brain was already awake and it felt like the afternoon anyway, considering that Denmark is typically seven hours ahead.
"Screw this," I mumbled, before pulling on a pair of Uncle T's jeans and another flannel, wanting to go horseback riding just to get out of the house.
It was only nine in the morning, but Angie was already downstairs ready to get the day started.
"Elliot! Oh, good, you're here. There's only two more days until the reception and I need your help," she chirped. "There's a bunch of chairs out back and I need someone to paint them white for the reception. Are you busy?"
"Uh..." Well there went my plans to ride Atlas for the day. "No. I'm not. I can do them for you."
"Oh, thank you, honey, they're out back, right behind the barn. I would send Tess to help you but she's gone with her father to get some Christmas lights."
"No problem," I said mindlessly, my eyes scanning for any sight of Vienna but she wasn't anywhere in the house. I walked outside, feeling the fresh Texan sunlight warming my face and the colder air nipping at my cheeks. It really wasn't even that cold for it to be in the middle of December.
I found nearly two dozen chairs out back, all rickety wooden brown, with a five cans of spray paint lying in the grass beside them. Without hesitating, I got right to it, pulling back my sleeves and getting the first can of spray paint.
Nearly an hour later, I was going strong. I had painted four chairs.
To pass the time, I plugged in some earbuds and was listening to music when "Don't Stop Believing" came on. I was about to skip the song, but decided against it. I didn't even notice that I wasn't alone outside anymore.
I turned around, about ready to get yet another can of spray paint when I saw Vienna spraying her own chair, her back turned to mine. Had she been there the whole time?
"Uh, how long have you been there?" I asked.
Vienna seemed surprised at my voice. I didn't see why, considering I was out here first. "Your aunt told me to come and help you," she said in a plain voice, not lifting an eye from her job. "I've been here for the past half hour."
"How did I not hear you come?"
She shrugged. "You were busy singing Alicia Keys. Didn't wanna interrupt."
"I was not," I denied.
Mental note to self: stick to humming.
Vienna kept ignoring me, grabbing another can of spray paint and saying nothing.
I sighed heavily, turning off my music and going back to painting chairs.
"So...the weather's nice," I managed.
From behind me, I heard her mutter, "Mhm."
"The wind is pretty cold, but it's real nice out," I continued.
She sighed. "I guess so."
"Maybe...we could go riding sometime. I could teach you how to ride a horse. There's a trail out back, past Uncle T's property and you could ride another horse if you want. Normally, it's too dry and plain in the summer, but during the winter, the pine trees just get covered with snow -- well, if there is snow -- and it's real nice. Maybe when we're done with--"
I turned around, only to find her gone and the faint sound of the back door shutting to close filling the air.
I scowled, kicking at empty spray cans and sitting down on a chair that wasn't painted yet.
"Make an effort," I scoffed. "So much for that."
* * *
It took three hours to get all the chairs painted by myself. Vienna didn't come back outside, so I had to finish her half too, taking me twice as long. My hands were covered with white paint, and my cheeks were red from being outside in the cold air too long. I came inside, shaking and just wanting a good cup of hot chocolate, when Angie approached me.
"Oh, good, Elliot you're done with the chairs," Angie smiled kindly, "Tess just brought back these white Christmas lights and I was wondering if you hang them outside? You're not busy, are you?"
"Uh..." I glanced at Angie, who looked even more exhausted than I was. "Sure, Angie, I'll hang 'em up."
I grabbed the boxes from her and started going outside to the front, only to almost be decapitated by a flying empty box of Christmas lights from the roof.
"What the-?"
Walking into the yard, I was granted with the sight of seeing Vienna up on a ladder, trying to hang up some lights of her own, by herself. The task seemed like David and Goliath, with the mansion of the ranch house being the giant and Vienna being the small, almost miniscule attempt at hanging up the Christmas lights.
"Vienna?" I ran to the ladder, instantly holding it steady. "Here, lemme help you."
"No, Elliot, you can leave. I'm perfectly capable of hanging up these lights," she called.
"I'm just holding the ladder for you," I offered. "Besides, what if you fall?"
"I'm not going to fall," she deadpanned. "I don't need your help."
I still wasn't about to leave her. She almost a full story up, and these ladders were unreliable.
When she saw that I wasn't going anywhere, she started coming back down, carrying a box of lights under her arm. "What the hell is your problem? I told you I didn't need any help, so what the hell are you still doing here?" she snapped at me once she reached the ground.
"What?" I scoffed. "All this time, I've been trying to help you out. All I wanted to do was to hold the ladder and watch out for you."
"I told you I didn't need any help!" she hissed vehemently.
"Why are you being like this?" I lowered my voice. "I'm trying to make a solid effort here, and you're yelling at me like I did something wrong?"
Vienna smirked sullenly, an twisted version of her trademark smirks that I used to love. Now it just felt poisonous. "Huh. Funny. Seems familiar, doesn't it?"
That was when I knew that the Road Trip Vienna wasn't this Vienna. This Vienna was a total stranger, and my eyes flared with a fire I never imagined would've been directed at her.
"I'm trying! I'm trying, okay? I already told you that I know I did something wrong and now I'm trying to fix it. I'm not asking for your forgiveness if you don't want it. But you're not even letting me try."
"Maybe because I know that it won't make a difference!" she raised her voice, her eyes cold and furious. "What's done is done."
"So you don't believe in forgiving people, then? You don't think that people make mistakes? So a person just screws up, and when they actually want to make it better, you just shut them out?"
"You shut me out, Elliot! You told me to leave!"
"And I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me Vienna, because whatever the hell it is, I'll fcking do it."
"It's too late," she whispered, looking down at the grass. "Maybe Samantha died for a reason."
"...What did you just say?"
When she looked up, her expression hardened. "I said, maybe she died for a reason!"
She regretted it the minute she said it. I knew for a fact that she did, because her cheeks became red and neither one of us spoke for the longest time. The air in my lungs burned so badly, I had to look away from her. My fists clenched tightly and my throat closed up. I didn't even feel like arguing with her anymore. I didn't think I would ever argue with Vienna, not after what we had gone through in that damn road trip. But I guess things change, and people change even more.
She should've just stabbed me in the back with a chainsaw. That might have hurt way less.
Without saying another word, I turned back into the house, not really up for doing anymore favors. I was close to closing up the distance between me and the back door, when Angie called me from the kitchen.
"Angie, I don't really feel like talking--"
She came out of the kitchen with the phone in her hand, looking pale and distraught.
I could feel my stomach dropping. Angie never looked pale and distraught.
"...Angie, what is it?"
"Elliot, honey... I'm sorry, but your parents can't make it out here. They're going through some...difficulties right now. Your mother just called. She said to send you a merry Christmas and that she'll see you next year," she spoke slowly.
The air suddenly felt suffocating. Toxic. It was like everything I'd ever wanted to go right just blew up in my face and went absolutely, terrifyingly wrong. They were wrong about hope; it just sets you up for even more disappointment.
The news shouldn't even have bothered me. I should've known that it was too good to be true that after more than ten years of divorce, they couldn't get back together overnight. I guess I just thought that they would do something to show that they would care for their only son, for once in their damn lives. They haven't any other time.
I ran out of the house, with Angie calling my name.
At least I could say I tried, in the end.