A Christmas Caroline by Camilla Isley

Twenty

Going Back Home

By the time I’m dismissed from the hospital the next morning, I’ve already called my chauffeur and arranged an emergency meeting at the offices of Wilkins and Marley for this afternoon. But before that, I ask Nelson to drop me off at home to shower and to please wait for me outside.

As I step into my pristine apartment, the excess tidiness makes my blood freeze in my veins. This is a cold-hearted house inhabited by a cold-hearted woman. I unzip my red boots and kick them off, leaving them strewn between the entrance and the living room to create at least a little chaos.

After the shower, I step into my closet, but without the usual pang of satisfaction I felt every time I got to admire the tangible proof of my worldly success. Dear expensive clothes, how little you mean to me now.

The walk-in closet is riddled with dresses, but I haven’t worn a pencil skirt in two months and I’m not in the mood to start again today.

I have to scroll to the very back to find a pair of jeans and a simple cashmere sweater. The lowest-heeled shoes I own are a pair of beige suede ankle boots so I go for those.

If my driver is surprised to see my “casual” attire—still ten times fancier than everything I wore in my mommy days—he doesn’t say.

Nelson opens the car door for me and then gets in on the other side. Once he’s in the driver seat, gloved hands on the wheel, he asks, “Where to, Miss?”

“Home,” I say dramatically.

Then, as Nelson shoots me a perplexed stare in the rearview mirror since we’re parked right outside my building, I explain, “My parents’ house.”

Before we reach my childhood neighborhood, I ask Nelson to make a deviation to Russel Square.

He takes a lap of the roundabout until I ask him to stop in front of the old pharmacy. In this world, the building is abandoned and forlorn. No one has restored the crumbling establishment and instead of the pulsing heart of the square, it now looks like a gaping hole in its chest. The windows are paneled with newspapers, except for the lower-left corner where the glass is broken and the paper has been torn by the wind. On the door, a “for sale” sign with a phone number underneath is almost too discolored to read. I point the camera of my phone at it and zoom in as I snap a picture. The image isn’t super clear, but the number is readable. I send the photo to my attorney with the address and a few lines of instructions to buy me the entire building.

Next, on to my parents’ house. I’m not sure what I expect as I ask Nelson to pull up a few houses before my actual parents’ house in front of the house Sam and I lived in my dream. I’m calling it a dream because it’s shorter than out-of-body-parallel-universe sabbatical.

The house is up for sale as well and uninhabited from the looks of it.

Was I expecting a different family to sleep, laugh, and grow together inside those four walls? And would that have been better than seeing the building unloved and crumbling down, same as the bookshop? A white-picked foreclosure sign is planted in the lawn out front with the name of a real estate agent on it.

I don’t take a picture or ask my lawyer to buy it. The bookshop is for me… a new house? What use would it be without Sam?

The street is empty and eerily quiet. No one has seen me and I could simply ask Nelson to turn around and bring me back to Manhattan. That’s what the old me would’ve done. But I’m not that Caroline anymore, am I?

Instead, I tell Nelson to park and walk up my parents’ driveway.

When Mom comes to open the door after I ring the bell, she’s utterly flabbergasted at finding me on her doorstep.

“Caroline,” she says. “Are you okay? I called the hospital this morning to ask what time we should come to pick you up, but they told us you’d already left. I didn’t think we’d see you until Easter.”

That last jab hurts a little. I mean, not that my mom is wrong. Manhattan Caroline, they probably wouldn’t have seen her until Easter, and if I found a good excuse, probably not until Thanksgiving.

I smile awkwardly. “Well, surprise,” I say. “I hope you don’t mind adding another plate to the table.”

“Lunch won’t be ready for another hour, but if you’re okay waiting?”

“I have to be back in the city for a meeting this afternoon, but I’d like to stay if you’ll have me. Actually…” I stare back at Nelson in the car, ready to freeze his ass off while he patiently waits for me for the next three hours, and my heart tugs. “How about two more plates?”

Mom smiles. “The more the merrier, we have a whole Christmas meal cooked that we didn’t eat yesterday…”

“I’ll be right in.” I turn on my heels and hop back down the front steps to go knock on Nelson’s window.

He rolls the glass down. “Yes, Miss?”

“Nelson, would you like to join my family for lunch?”

Nelson’s jaw positively drops. “Miss, I—I couldn’t.”

A lot of convincing on my side, and stuttered, awkward replies on his later, I finally manage to drag Nelson out of the car and bring him inside.

He’s a novelty to my sister’s kids and so the older ones all focus on him for a second, pestering him with questions. Is he a pilot? Sort of. Can he also drive planes? No. How old is he? Fifty-four. Is he married? Yes, to Judith, has been for the past twenty-six years. Does he have any kids? Three grown children and two grandkids.

I note, not without shame, how I didn’t know many of the answers to those personal questions. The thought of asking him has never even crossed my mind before. Gosh, what an asshole I used to be.

While Benjamin tries to convince Nelson to let him drive his car, I locate Fan and steal baby Tommy from her arms.

Fan is so surprised by my cheery approach that she doesn’t realize I’ve relieved her of the baby until she sees me bouncing him on my hip.

“Caroline,” she says, extending her arms as if to ask for the baby back. “Are you sure you want to hold him? Last time you ended up in the hospital.”

“That was the ice, not the baby.”

“What if he poops?”

“Then I’ll change his diaper. A little poop never killed anyone.”

“You don’t change diapers!”

I smile at her. “Want to bet which one of us can do it faster?”

She’s too shocked to protest further and lets me have her baby.

I zig-zig through the various toys scattered on the living room floor and sit on the couch with Tommy.

I’m busy rocking him in my arms when Nora climbs on next to us.

“Auntie Caroline, how’s your head? Does it hurt?”

I touch the bump in the back of my skull. “No, not too much.”

Definitely not as much as my heart, I add silently.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

This is the longest conversation I had to date with Nora. She looks at me a little intimidated, so I smile encouragingly.

“Is it true you work with books?” She promptly responds to my openness.

“Hm-mm. Do you like to read?”

Nora’s eyes light up. “Oh, it’s my favorite. Would you—would you—?” She starts and stops as if she didn’t dare ask whatever it is she wants to say. Guess she isn’t used to me paying her much attention the three times a year I visit. Gosh, I’ve been the worst aunt in the world. But that ends today. My nieces and nephews might be the only kids I’ll ever get to love and spoil.

“What is it, sweetie? You can ask me anything.”

“Would you read me a story, Auntie Caroline?”

“Which one?” I ask.

“Sleeping Beauty, but you have to make different voices for each character.”

“Bring me the book and we’ll see how dusty my acting skills are.”

That’s how ten minutes after I’ve entered my parents’ house, I end up sitting on the large rug with baby Tommy in my lap and a circle of three attentive kids listening to me as I do my best impression of Maleficent.

Elijah arrives about fifteen minutes before lunch is ready and even if I don’t see him, I hear his shocked voice as he asks Fan, “Is that your sister reading to the kids?”

I double concentrate not to mess up my lines while still listening to how Fan replies.

“I have to google ‘personality changes after head trauma’ I wouldn’t know how else to explain this.”

“The kids seem to love it.”

There’s a pause and I can practically see Fan shrug.

“As long as it lasts.”

Okay, I deserve a little distrust. But the new Caroline is here to stay. You’ll see, family.

Lunch is awkward at first. Mom expresses her distress by smiling too much and talking in a tone a few octaves above her usual range. Nelson is doing his best to appear inconspicuous, probably still unsure of his grounding. Fan and Elijah keep exchanging weirded-out side-glances when they think I won’t notice. Only Dad and the kids are oblivious to the others’ discomfort and are having a jolly good time.

As for me, I’m having a blast with my nieces and nephews. I grab two sliced carrots and fix them under my upper lip, turning to Benjamin, growling. “Beware of the carrot monster.” Benjamin and baby Tommy collapse in a fit of laughter while Nora and Harper chuckle along in a more dignified, older-sisters way. “Eat all your vegetables, Benjamin, if you don’t want to experience my wrath.”

Benjamin shrieks and makes a show of polishing off his plate. I sigh inwardly, imagining how Will wouldn’t have eaten his broccoli, carrot monster, or not. He had made plenty of progress on the eating front, but certain vegetables were still labeled enemy number one.

Mom’s triple-layered chocolate cake doesn’t need any encouragement to be devoured by either adults or children, and by the time the meal is over, it’s with real regret that I announce, “Sorry guys, Nelson and I have to go.”

The raucous protests that erupt from the kids are both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

Benjamin in particular grabs on to my leg, pleading for another story while he rubs his eyes clearly ready for his afternoon nap.

I pick him up and hug him close to my chest. “Next time I come. I promise.”

I hand him over to my sister and she scolds me, probably thinking, don’t make promises you won’t keep.

“Auntie.” Nora tugs on my sweater.

I squat down next to her. “Yes, sweetie.”

“When can we come to visit you in the city?”

I do a mental review of my schedule. “Why don’t I have Nelson pick you up the day after tomorrow, and we can spend the entire day together.” I look up at Fan. “If your mom agrees.”

Nora and Harper dance at Fan’s feet, chanting, “Please, Mommy, please, can we go?”

Fan’s gaze sears through me. “Caroline, are you sure you can take care of three kids for an entire day, on your own?”

I stand up. “I’m pretty confident,” I say, thinking of the past two months that only existed in my head but that still feel so real.

“And you don’t have to work? No important meetings to go to?” she asks in a threatening “let my kids down and I’ll kill you,” voice.

“I’ll clear my schedule,” I say.

Fan nods in a way that says, “You get the benefit of the doubt, but screw up and you’re out.”

I nod back in a, “I won’t” reassurance.

Fan sighs. “Okay, kids! You can go!”

Cheers erupt all around, and I mouth a “thank you” at Fan.

The promise of a day out on the town allows me to leave without further protests.

In the car, Nelson tries to claw back some boundaries as he asks, “Where to, Miss Wilkins?”

“The office,” I say. “And, Nelson?”

“Yes?”

“I told you, it’s Caroline.”