Page 78 of Let's Be Forever

Jackson is taking me to dinner, and afterward, he wants to take me to Neptune. While I’m open to the idea, I wouldn’t have minded something more low-key. After working all week and being a mom, I’d love to eat pizza or tacos, drink a Coke Zero, and go bowling or to the boardwalk.

We’re at the end of September, the time of year when the leaves change color and the nights become a little cool. So I’d love to savor the warmer weather with a long walk, but I won’t be doing that tonight.

“Thanks. You mind tying this up for me?” I stand in front of her and turn so she can tie the laces in the back.

She tightens them, and when she’s done, I look at her. I immediately notice the shift in her expression, like she wants to say something but is holding back.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, drawing her focus to Rosie.

I bite my tongue, knowing I should probably keep quiet. In the past, anytime this happened, we’d get into it. She’d dissect and judge all my choices. She was especially harsh when I acted in a way she didn’t approve of.

I don’t want to argue—I want us to be okay, but we can’t skirt around this anymore. This isn’t the time to have this conversation, but I won’t be leaving for another hour.

“Before you stopped talking to me, I missed you. I…” I sit down next to her, folding my hands on my lap. “I desperately wanted to have a relationship, and knowing we didn’t made me miss what we could have had. When you cut me off, I was mad, but I still missed you. I never understood what I did wrong, what I could have done to make things better, and I still don’t.”

I don’t look her in the eye, worried she’ll shut me out.

I hear her swallow, and from my periphery, I see her wipe her palms on her thighs. “I was jealous of you.”

I peer up at her. “Jealous? Of me? Why?”

She fiddles with her fingers, heaving out a sigh. “Because Mom and Dad left you alone.”

I wryly laugh. “Because they left me alone? Do you not realize how badly I wanted them to pay attention to me? You got all their attention. They were always there for you, always?—”

“And I was sick and tired of it,” she voices, exasperated. “I’m aware they gave me all the attention, but it came with nonstop criticism and constantly being compared to you. I was second in my class, but you were valedictorian. You got accepted into all your choice schools and I didn’t. You were sonice, and everyone said I was the bitchy sister…” Maya looks up at me, regret andsadness marring her face. “I was jealous that despite knowing they would be mad at you for going to school in New York, you still went. That even though they cut you off, you didn’t come running for their forgiveness. I was jealous that you were able to do something I couldn’t, that no matter what I did and how I did it, they weren’t ever satisfied. I know it’s not your fault, but I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

I’m stunned by her admission. I never thought about it like that. Whenever I was around, she was being praised while I was getting pushed to the side or judged.

“I-I didn’t know.” My limbs twitch, wanting to reach out for her, but they stay glued to my sides. “You always looked so happy.”

“I thought if I pretended enough, they would finally be proud of me.” Her lips tremble, but she clamps her teeth down, fighting to compose herself. When a lone tear drops, I wrap my arms around her. “No, don’t hug me. I’m okay.”

“Shut up.” I speak past the lump in my throat and band my arms tighter. “I’m tired of us being weird about affection. I know you need a hug, and I need one too.”

She hesitantly accepts the contact. She’s stiff at first, like her limbs are made out of marble, but when I squeeze her, I feel the weight of her regret crumble.

Maya sniffles and I’m certain she’s wiping the tears away. I don’t say anything, only continue to hold her. We bask in the silence until we hear Rosie and her dog barking.

We laugh and pull apart, wiping the tears away.

“I’m going to have to do my makeup again,” I whine, fanning my face.

“It still looks good, I promise.” She smiles and pauses. “I’m really sorry I took it out on you. It wasn’t your fault. I let my insecurities get the best of me.”

“It’s okay. I don’t hold it against you. Our parents really know how to pit us against each other. That was one thing they excelled at, huh?”

She gives a mournful sighs. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” My heart lurches.

“Yeah,” she answers, nodding. “You’ve done so much—graduating, going to France, being a mom, opening the bakery, dealing with what they’re saying online? Rosie’s so lucky to have you.”

“Oh.” My voice breaks and the tears come despite how I try to keep them back.

“Don’t you dare cry again. Your makeup looks too good,” she warns, and catches me off guard when she envelops me. “Love you, Anna Banana.”