Playing the Part. Kimberly Meter Van
Inside, Lindy winced at the forlorn tone couched within the thinly veiled sarcasm. This kid was hurting. Couldn’t Gabe see that? How could he be so blind? She propped her hands on her hips and made a split-second decision. “Come hang out with me and my sister Lilah. She’s cool—you’ll like her. I promise.”
Carys’s gaze lit up hopefully but she held back, unsure. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I didn’t say you did. I just thought you might like to hang out with the cool kids, you know? But if you’ve got something better to do...”
“No,” Carys said quickly, smiling. “That sounds fine with me.”
“Great,” Lindy said, returning the smile as they walked back to the blanket where Lilah was sunning herself. Lindy stole a glance at Carys, troubled by the fact that she cared more than she should for this kid. She wasn’t the kind of person who adopted people or causes. That was Lilah’s gig. Lindy preferred her relationships easy and superficial. But for some reason, she couldn’t turn a blind eye to Carys’s pain. So how could Carys’s father not see that his daughter was clearly losing the battle against her grief and sadness? Stop it, she ordered herself. Gabe was the kid’s father; he’d figure it out. But what if he didn’t? That same voice she was trying to silence was irritatingly persistent.
And Lindy didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
CARYS DIDN’T WANT to admit it, but she was grateful Lindy had invited her to hang out with her. Even though Lindy had promised to be available if Carys needed her, Carys was a little shy about actually hitting her up on her promise. But Lindy and her sister Lilah had happily dragged her along as if it weren’t a huge inconvenience to have a kid hanging around and it made Carys feel good inside.
“Lindy said you guys lost your mom when you were young?” Carys prompted, sipping at the coconut-and-pineapple smoothie Celly had created for them as they sat on the Bells’ private terrace.
Lilah and Lindy shared a look and Lilah nodded. “Yeah, and then our Grams died when we were teenagers. But Pops doesn’t remember that, so we try not to remind him.”
Carys frowned. “Huh?”
“Pops is losing his memory and it’s easier on him to think that she’s still here,” Lindy explained, her expression dimming for just a moment. “So if he tries talking about Grams just try to pretend that he’s making sense.”
“That’s weird,” Carys said. “Can’t you take him to the doctor or something?”
Lindy sighed. “I wish it were that easy. You can’t fix dementia.” Then she glanced at Lilah quickly. “You can’t, right?”
Lilah shook her head. “No. The doctor said the damage to his brain is irreversible. All we can do is manage his care, and since all of us agree that we are not going to put him in a home, that means he’s here with us. We just have to do what we can to keep him safe.”
“Kinda like babysitting, but for old people,” Carys said.
Lindy laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. But I ain’t on diaper duty, that’s for sure. That job can go to Lora.”
Carys’s expression mirrored Lilah’s as they both said ewwww in unison.
“I can’t believe you went there,” Lilah said, fighting a laugh. “God, Lindy. You’re so gross.”
“Hey, you were thinking it, too. Don’t give me that,” Lindy said.
Carys grinned at the warmth between the two sisters, wanting to bask in that sensation for as long as possible. Grieving for her mom was hard, but the loneliness sucking at her insides felt worse. Being around Lindy and her quiet yet mysterious twin seemed to ease that awful feeling inside. “Do you miss your grams a lot?” she asked.
Lilah’s expression turned wistful. “Oh, yes. Sometimes it’s a weird comfort to pretend that she’s just around the corner or at the store or something like that so I don’t have to acknowledge the fact that she’s gone.”
Carys considered that for a minute and slowly came to understand. “Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend that my mom is in the other room, in the kitchen or something, making dinner or washing dishes. For a second it makes me feel better, but then I remember she’s gone and then I feel worse.”
“Well, imagine if you got locked in that feeling before you realized it was all in your imagination,” Lindy said. “That’s where Pops is at. He’s locked in that feel-good place, and when we remind him that she’s gone, it kicks him into the sad place but the sad place scares him because he doesn’t understand. Ultimately, it’s just better if we leave him to whatever he believes. It’s not hurting anyone and frankly, it seems a small concession to keep things running more or less smoothly.”
Carys nodded. Her dad would have a fit if she constantly wandered around having conversations with her dead mother. It might be the straw that broke the camel’s back, as her mom used to say. “What was your grams like?” she asked.
At that both Lindy and Lilah shared a smile, but it was Lindy who spoke first. “Well, she was a kick in the pants. Strong like Lora, feisty like me, talented like Lilah. I guess we all got a piece of her personality.” Lindy cast a speculative look Carys’s way. “She would’ve loved you. You have just the right amount of piss and vinegar that Grams found amusing.”
Carys grinned. “Really?”
Lindy nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. Grams had a habit of gravitating toward extremes. She said love or hate them, they were never boring. I think the only thing Grams found more tedious than boring people was when others insisted she do things their way.”
“Yep. The quickest way to get Grams to do the exact opposite—”
“—was to insist she do it whatever way she didn’t agree with. She could be a little contrary,” Lindy said, adding with a slight lift of her brow, “I guess I come by it honestly.”
Lilah laughed. “Yes, well, you take it to another level. Even Grams agreed, you were just downright difficult by nature.”
Lindy pretended to take offense but Carys could tell they were just joking. She giggled at the sisters and wished for the umpteenth time she hadn’t been an only child. It probably would’ve sucked less if she’d been able to share her grief with a sister or brother, even. But she’d never know because her mom was dead and it wasn’t as if her dad was in a hurry to get married again—thank God.
“So what was your mom like?” Lindy asked, swinging the conversation back around to Carys. “Was she like you?”
Carys shook her head and grinned. “No. She was nice.”
Lindy cracked up and playfully slapped Carys on the arm. “Not bad, kid. There’s hope for you yet. So, seriously, tell us about your mom. We’ve got time to kill before dinner, right, Li?”
“Sure,” Lilah said, sipping at her smoothie. “I’d love to hear about your mom.”
Carys took a deep breath and cast a nervous look Lindy’s way. She’d never really talked about her mom to anyone before. It was something she kept locked away in a private place where no one else could judge, or touch. Oddly, she trusted Lindy and her sister Lilah. Somehow she knew they were genuine, unlike the dumb shrink her dad had hired right after Carys’s mom had died. Dr. Dippity-Do, as Carys had privately named him when she’d seen how stiff his hair was from all the product he’d gooped on, had been a complete and total idiot as far Carys was concerned. He’d always spoken to her in a low, monotone voice that she supposed he thought was soothing, but really it made Carys want to bounce a basketball off his head. So, yeah, that hadn’t ended well. The doc had diagnosed Carys with a personality disorder and had prescribed medication. Thankfully, her dad had agreed the doc was off his rocker and hadn’t insisted on any more shrinks.
“My mom was supersupportive