Another Piece of My Heart Read online

  And she would never, ever, ask them their opinions on books or current affairs.

  As an adult, Andi adored her parents. She used to tease them that she grew into them, but in part that was true. They were educated, sophisticated and, as she discovered when she was older, tremendous amounts of fun. None of which were qualities she was able to see, or appreciate, as a child.

  When she was small, Andi decided she was going to have the life she couldn’t have when young. Even though she didn’t meet Ethan until her late thirties, even though he already had two daughters, even though one of the daughters hated her, and she is going through perimenopause, which means her moods are horrific, and she probably won’t ever have children, she still thinks there is some hope for them to be the happy family she has always wanted.

  If Ethan would only set some boundaries. If Emily would only learn to accept her and be happy. If … if … if. There has to be a way. Andi is almost, almost sure of it.

  * * *

  “Emily, honey?” Andi, determining to make an effort, leans into the car. “Want to come with me and see Isabel’s dress? It’s so beautiful. She said she—”

  “Where’s Dad?” Emily interrupts, sharply.

  “I think he’s helping set up the bar,” Andi says as Emily climbs out, deliberately pushes past her, and walks off.

  “See?” She turns to Drew. “See? I try my damnedest to be nice all the time, and she’s just a total bitch.” She inhales sharply. She may think the word, but she doesn’t ever say it out loud.

  “She is,” Drew says, as Topher walks around the car. “I agree. You were being lovely, and she was awful.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Topher says slowly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You try too hard. Emily knows she’s got you wrapped around her finger. She knows she has all the power because you give it to her.”

  Andi shakes her head. “How? How do I give her the power?”

  “Emily, honey?” Topher does a surprisingly good imitation of Andi, and Andi instantly hears the fearful, pleading tone in his voice.

  “Oh, God,” she says. “Did I sound like that? I was just trying to be loving.”

  “I heard fear, which means so did Emily, and that empowers her.”

  “So what do I do? Ignore her?”

  Topher shrugs. “That’s a good start, I’d say.”

  “But … I was kidding. I can’t just ignore my stepdaughter.”

  “Yes, you can. Right now, you’re giving her total control of your mood. Try detaching from her. She is who she is, which is nothing to do with you. You didn’t cause her mood, you can’t control it, and you certainly can’t cure it.”

  “But I always think if I’m supernice she’ll love me.”

  “I know,” Topher says kindly. “That’s the root of all codependency. You think it’s something to do with you, but it really isn’t. Detach with love. Let her do whatever she’s going to do and try not to focus on her. You’re here for Isabel and Greg, and you’re here to have a good time.”

  “But look.” Andi gestures over to the far side of the field, where she can see Ethan talking to someone. Hanging off him, her arms around his neck, pulling him down, is Emily. “How can I ignore that? Now she’s going to spend all evening dragging him away from me. Not to mention the inappropriateness of a seventeen-year-old hanging off her father like he’s her lover.”

  “It is a bit weird,” Drew interjects.

  “No it’s not,” Topher says. “I mean, in our world it is, but Ethan feels constantly guilty about who Emily is, that the divorce might have caused this, and so he doesn’t say no. He doesn’t know whether this is appropriate or not, he just knows that this is what Emily does, and if he pushes her away, she’s going to think he doesn’t love her.”

  “Can’t you say something to him?” Andi says.

  “No.” Topher laughs. “I can’t triangulate. You could say something. Or … you could just let it go.”

  * * *

  “Hi, baby!” Ethan turns with delight as Andi walks over, Emily’s having wandered over to the fence to see the horses in the field. “What’s the matter?”

  “I just … I need to wrap my head around Emily being here.”

  “I get it,” he says. “But I’m so glad she’s here rather than at home. I just texted her mom. Brooke didn’t even know she wasn’t in the house. I worry about Sophia. I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “It makes me want to go back and change the custody agreement.”

  “Sophia would tell us if things got bad,” Andi says. “Listen, I know we’ve talked about this before, but there were a couple of raised eyebrows about the way Emily was draping herself all over you just now.”

  Ethan looks aghast. “What? From who? It’s my daughter.”

  “Ethan, she was practically climbing on top of you.”

  There is a silence during which a cloud passes over Ethan’s face. “Don’t start this again now,” he warns, his voice low and steady. “Just leave it alone.”

  “Leave what alone?” Andi’s voice climbs. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate it is? She isn’t being your daughter when she hangs off your neck and nuzzles against you. She’s being your lover.”

  “Oh, stop,” Ethan barks suddenly. “I’m fed up with hearing this. Frankly, I’m pretty disgusted that you would even think such a thing. She’s a kid. My kid. She’s just showing me affection.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Andi snorts. “You have no idea how in-appropriate her behavior is. When you sit down and she curls up on your lap, nuzzling your neck … you think that’s cute, but it’s not cute, it’s inappropriate because she’s trying to replace me.” Andi stops, shocked at the whine in her voice, and turns away as Emily appears, standing squeezed up against Ethan and taking his hand.

  “Daddy,” she sings in a little-girl voice. “Will you come and see the ponies with me?” She rests her head on his shoulder as she glares at Andi.

  “In a minute,” he says, removing his hand and stepping aside as Emily’s eyes brim with hurt. “Andi and I are just finishing a discussion.”

  Emily stands there, waiting.

  “Emily, we need a moment.”

  “Why? There’s nothing you can’t say in front of me.”

  “Yes there is,” he says. “Please. Just give us a moment.”

  “It’s always her,” Emily sneers. “You always choose her. Andi needs a moment, Andi needs me, Andi wants me to do something with her. You’ve become a terrible father. I used to love you, I used to be proud to call you my dad, but now it’s clear you hate me and Sophia, and you know what? We hate you, too.” Emily turns on her heel and storms off.

  Ethan looks at Andi, his lips pressed together in a thin line, shaking his head.

  “Thanks,” he says. “Really. Thanks a lot.” And he turns to go after Emily.

  “No.” Andi grabs his arm. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, but Ethan, please don’t go after her. Just leave her. This tantrum is for you, and if you go to her now, the evening is ruined.”

  “I can’t just leave her,” he says.

  “Why not? What’s the worst that can happen? She gets depressed and bored and comes back?”

  Ethan shakes his head, torn. “I … I don’t know.”

  Topher suddenly walks up, a cold beer in each hand, one of which he hands to Ethan.

  “Hey, buddy,” he says. “What’s up?”

  Ethan shrugs. “Not much.”

  “Emily’s in a bad mood, and Ethan was just about to go after her,” Andi blurts out. “I was telling him to leave her.”

  “Teenagers.” Topher rolls his eyes. “I’d leave her to it. She’ll get over it.”

  Ethan hesitates as his shoulders sink in defeat. “Okay,” he says finally. “Cheers.” And he takes a long, cool sip, unable to look Andi in the eye.

  * * *

  One of Greg’s friends plays the guitar, and the air is suddenly filled with beautiful music, in
dicating that the guests should gather around the tree.

  Another friend stands up and sings a Carole King song, then Isabel appears, gliding gracefully out of the barn, her chiffon dress gathered in one hand to keep it from draping on the floor, a huge smile on her face as she looks from one guest to another, her gaze ending on Greg, who is already wiping a tear from his eye.

  They stand together, holding hands as Drew, who qualified as a minister in order to marry them, offers his words on marriage, commitment, and love. He quotes Kahlil Gibran, then speaks from his heart, offers lessons he has learned, talks about why the love between Isabel and Greg is so special.

  Andi and Ethan, furious at each other, stand side by side with acres between them, but as Drew speaks, they both find themselves softening, remembering why they married, why they love each other. When Isabel starts to softly say her vow, Andi slips her hand into Ethan’s.

  “I’m sorry.” She reaches up and whispers into his ear.

  “That’s okay,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry, too,” and he gives her a sad but loving smile.

  “I do love you, you know,” she says, squeezing his hand.

  “I love you, too.” He squeezes back.

  * * *

  The music strikes up again after the wedding, and Andi leaves Ethan talking to friends as she wanders around the property. She is concerned about Emily, as much as she doesn’t want to admit it, and wants to, if not talk to her, at least see that she’s okay.

  She crosses over the fields to the one with the sculptures in it and stands for a long time, mesmerized by the sun slowly setting behind the trees, lighting up the majestic creations.

  There are voices coming from the barn. Laughter, which sounds like it might be Emily’s. Andi carefully picks her way around the objects that are scattered around the barn—found metal, oil drums, bicycles, old farm equipment—and stops at a crack in the shiplap sides, through which she sees the source of the laughter.

  There are two boys, one standing, one sitting. The standing one has a buzz cut, the seated one a long, dark ponytail, a beard, and piercing blue eyes. Even from a distance, Andi recognizes the sexual energy emanating from him.

  He is in jeans and boots, an oversized shirt, leather bracelets on his wrist. She wouldn’t have expected him to be Emily’s type, but Emily cannot take her eyes off him. She is Emily at her best, smiling, laughing, teasing.

  God, she is so beautiful when she smiles, when her face lights up, Andi thinks.

  “You should really come,” the bearded guy is saying as he reaches for his beer. “It’s totally awesome. Just filled with beautiful art and beautiful people.”

  “You’re such a hippie,” the boy with the buzz cut says. “I’ve gotta carry on with that welding. I promised Ken I’d finish it today.”

  “I think it’s so cool you’re artists’ assistants,” Emily says. “But when are you actually going to be artists?”

  “Oh, man.” The bearded guy laughs, shaking his head. “We already are. I have a ton of stuff I work on at home, but working with Ken is the most unbelievable experience. That’s what I meant about Burning Man. I’d never get to meet the people I did, or have the experience I had if I weren’t there as Ken’s assistant. It doesn’t mean I’m not already an artist, though. If you have a creative soul”—he touches his heart with a nod and a serious expression—“it doesn’t matter what you do, that will always come out.”

  Emily nods sagely. “Yeah. I get that,” she says. “I’m supposed to be going to college in a year, but I don’t know. I’m thinking I might learn more at the University of Life.” She laughs.

  “Oh, yeah, baby.” Bearded Guy laughs. “I hear you. So what are you doing this year?”

  Emily shrugs. “I’m supposed to be traveling and working, but I haven’t really done much about it.”

  “You should come hang with us,” Bearded Guy says. “Starting with Burning Man.”

  “You’re really trying to convince me to come?” Emily says, her doubtfulness giving away her youth.

  “Well, yeah. You’re cool. It would be fun to have you.”

  “Cool?” Emily gives him a long, slow look. “I thought I was hot…”

  Andi, watching from outside, catches her breath. This is an Emily she hasn’t seen before, an Emily who is fully cognizant of her sexuality, who knows exactly how to use it.

  “Well, that goes without saying,” the bearded guy says slowly, and as Andi watches, he leans forward and kisses Emily.

  Andi jumps back as if burnt, hesitates for a moment, then walks quickly back to the party.

  * * *

  “Where’ve you been?” Ethan says, extending an arm to draw her close.

  “I went for a walk. I found Emily.”

  His face grows serious. “How is she?”

  “She’s…” No, she won’t tell him. “She’s great. She’s found some people her own age, and she seems to be having fun.”

  “Really?” Ethan’s face lights up. “Where is she? I’ll go check in on her.”

  “No. Don’t. She didn’t see me. She’s doing her thing, and she’s fine. Let’s just enjoy the party.”

  Ethan nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Nine

  Andi puts down her book and listens hard. Next to her, Ethan is sound asleep, his breath escaping in a stream of air with an occasional snore.

  They didn’t get home from the wedding until almost one in the morning, but Andi can’t sleep without reading at least a few pages. Ethan has always been asleep within seconds of his head touching the pillow, but without a book to quiet her mind and still her racing thoughts, Andi would be awake for hours.

  She picks up the book again, then hears noise. Slipping out of bed, she pads quietly to the door, opening it to hear the unmistakable sounds of retching.

  Emily.

  They had not seen Emily all evening, and when she had finally appeared, after Andi had called her name in the general vicinity of the barn, she had been disheveled and, Andi was certain, drunk.

  “You okay?” Ethan had asked, concerned, after Emily had lain down on the backseat of the car.

  “Just really tired,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

  “She’s drunk,” Andi mouthed to Ethan, who gave her a look of disdain.

  “Do you always have to be so negative?” he mouthed.

  Andi just shrugged and spent the entire car ride home looking out the window. She imagines that Ethan must have roused Emily and gotten her to bed, while Andi walked straight into the house and upstairs, shutting the bathroom door to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. Alone.

  Now, though, Emily is sick. Andi walks down the hallway, sniffing the faintest smell of pot, growing stronger as she approaches Emily’s room. The bathroom door is open, and Emily is squatting, with her arms draped around the toilet seat, retching into the bowl.

  “Are you okay?” A wave of sympathy sweeps over Andi as Emily turns around and looks at her, shaking her head, her face a pale shade of grey, her eyes red-rimmed. Andi rubs her back and, with her other hand, gathers Emily’s hair out of her face, holding it out of the way.

  “What happened, sweetie?” Andi says, reaching over for some tissues to wipe Emily’s mouth.

  Emily finishes and collapses next to the toilet, closing her eyes. “I feel sick,” she moans.

  “I know, baby,” Andi says, getting up and wetting a washcloth, pressing the compress on Emily’s forehead. “How’s that? Is that better?”

  Emily nods.

  “Oh, Em. I think you’re sick because you mixed alcohol and drugs. Your body’s rejecting it.”

  “Didn’t,” Emily mumbles.

  “I can smell the pot,” Andi says, not unkindly.

  “Gonna be sick again.” Emily reaches blindly for the pot and retches again, leaning her head on the seat in between. Andi rewets the washcloth, and holds it on the back of Emily’s neck until she’s done.

  “Do you want to try and get to bed?” Andi asks gently, helpi
ng Emily up. “I’ll get you a bowl to keep by the bed. Here, let me help.” And, with an arm around Emily’s waist to steady her weaving, she walks her back into her bedroom.

  Emily sinks into bed, and looks up at Andi, the color slowly returning to her face.

  “Can you not tell Dad?” she manages to get out. “Please?”

  “I won’t tell him.” Andi doesn’t know why she agrees, but Ethan doesn’t need to know. She sits down on the bed, next to Emily, and strokes the hair out of her eyes, holding the compress down before standing up to get a bowl.

  “Where are you going?” Emily’s eyes flash open in a panic.

  “I’m just going to get a bowl,” Andi says. “I’ll be right back.”

  As Andi places the bowl next to the bed, Emily looks as if she might have fallen asleep, and Andi quietly turns to leave when a small voice says, “Don’t go.”

  Andi turns around and goes back to the bed.

  “Can you stay with me? I’m scared.”

  “Oh, Em.” Andi’s heart bursts open. “Of course.” And when Andi sits down, Emily slips a clammy hand into Andi’s and turns her head, closing her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “It’s okay,” Andi says. “These things happen.”

  “No, I mean I’m sorry for being so mean to you.”

  Andi wants to say something. Is trying to say something. But the lump in her throat is so big, it won’t let any words emerge, and she silently strokes Emily’s forehead, the dislike, irritation, and yes, sometimes hate she so often feels for her stepdaughter having disappeared like a puff of smoke.

  * * *

  Andi knows that when the girls are at their mother’s house, they are lucky if there is any cereal in the pantry for breakfast. Sophia tells Andi how she gets herself up, dresses, packs her backpack, and makes her own snack. If there’s food at home for breakfast, they help themselves, and if, as so often happens, Brooke has not managed the grocery shopping, Sophia counts off the hours until snack time, whereupon her teacher will dispense crackers for the kids who forgot a snack.

  Sophia has even confessed to sometimes “borrowing” food from her father’s, hiding it in her bedroom at her mother’s, doling out crackers, or cookies, for both of them to take to school, or munch on when Brooke is too drunk to think about dinner, and there isn’t any food in the house anyway.