We Could Be
by Emma Beattie
I watched a flow of passengers rush toward the final barrier separating them from their loved ones. They eagerly flashed their customs receipts and disappeared around the corner. I fiddled with my own receipt, wishing I could already see the three of them standing there; little Brielle in a hot pink winter coat, Mom in an oversized navy zip-up and scrubs—but what about him? The thought of him didn’t generate anything. And that scared me.
The man checking receipts stared at me expectantly. Almost everyone from my plane had made it to the other side of the arrival gate. “Do you have your kiosk receipt with you?” he asked, ignoring the fact that I was holding it right in front of me.
“Yes, here you go,” I said, handing him the piece of paper. My forced smile acted as an apology.
His expression softened, “You’re good to go.” He placed my receipt at the top of the pile, a signal that it was time.
Dragging my suitcase, hugging the corner, I paused for a moment before getting onto the escalator. My mom was there, just a tiny dot, finally rewarded for never losing sight of the U.S. Arrivals gate; I was here now. Time passed slowly between us as I floated down. There was no sign of Brielle.
Mom was smiling at me. She might’ve been the happiest I had ever seen her. Was that really her? She wore a plaid scarf over a slim black coat. The differences between my memory of her and the woman in front of me magnified as I approached. A man towered beside her, a hand placed upon her shoulder. That was him. I walked slower now, trying to process his image. It genuinely scared the hell out of me when Brielle grasped onto my pant leg.
I peeled her off of me and crouched down to meet her at eye level. “Playing games already, are we?”
“I missed you,” she said, her round brown eyes mirroring my own.
“I missed you too, Bri,” I smiled. “But aren’t you going to brag about scaring me? I mean, I almost screamed in the middle of the airport.”
“Almost,” she said, nestling her head into my chest. I hadn't seen Brielle for a year, and I wondered if she was feeling the way I had as a kid. She was only six years old.
While I returned the embrace, we were joined by Mom. Up close, she looked a bit more familiar. She was still herself under the new clothes; signs of happiness only told by a gleam in the eyes. I made the few final steps to reach her. Hugging Mom felt eerily normal. I gave into this, just for the moment.
“So, Lily, this is Will,” she said as she pulled away. “I’m looking forward to you finally getting to know him.”
He smiled. “It’s really so nice to meet you.”
I had to hand it to him, he didn’t look like the rest of them. This guy was clean-cut. No stubble and his dark hair was combed back. A grey puffer jacket hung comfortably on his body. He wore light-washed jeans, the nice kind, probably Levi’s with a black belt. Will wasn’t trying too hard to impress for an airport reunion, and yet, he displayed just enough of a contrast to make me wonder.
THE HOME
Will lived on Raquette St. in Westwood, near the Assiniboine River and away from the traffic of Portage Avenue. I knew dozens of people who grew up here. I remembered borrowing their bikes, riding toward the 7-Eleven for slushies in the afternoon heat. Their parents would throw money at us to get us outside. These were the houses I always wanted to have sleepovers at, whether I liked the kids who lived in them or not.
“If you want to look around, I can bring your belongings upstairs for you,” Will said as he removed his Blundstones.
“Come on,” Brielle pulled my hand, “I want to show you my room.”
“She’s been up since four in the morning, Bri.” Mom grabbed her tiny coat and placed it on a hanger. “Maybe we should go pick out a bedtime story instead?”
Each of them stopped for a moment, anticipating the answer I would give. “Thank you Will, that would be great,” I said, then turned to Brielle, “I’ll come check out your room once you’ve gotten your pajamas on.”
Will slung my backpack across his shoulder and picked up the carry-on while Brielle rushed ahead of him to her room.
“This is nice.” I looked at Mom now. She just smiled, but I could also see the shine in her eyes. She then gestured to take my coat.
We had shuffled in through the back door upon arriving. The entryway was compact, a showerless bathroom to the left and a closet to the right. It was kept tidy; the shoes evenly spaced on the rack, the outerwear hung up on wooden hangers, mittens, toques, and scarves sorted into brown wicker baskets.
“I’ll let you get settled in,” Mom said.
I thought about going straight to bed. My head throbbed and the aching behind my knees was becoming more than a simple annoyance. In search of a place to sit, I wandered into the living room. The white lights strung around the Christmas tree pulled me in. I had entered the set of a Hallmark movie, the usual furniture subordinated by the holiday decorations. A frosted cranberry scented candle sat on a rustic-looking coffee table. Wool blankets were draped over the loveseat and armchair to keep out the cold. There were stockings dangling from a working fireplace. It was three days before Christmas.
Last year, I spent the twenty-second of December on my university campus. It was my freshman year, something like five months since I’d seen Mom and Brielle. If my mom hadn’t slipped a disc in her back while lifting a patient out of bed, I would have spent Christmas back home. The doctor told her six weeks of rest—she took three. Anymore than that and she would have missed enough rent to be terminated from our little condo. There was no money to fly me back home.
I was better off in the college dorm anyway. People make it seem like spending the holidays alone is some kind of tragedy. I had a roof over my head and shelves full of books to read. Brielle was my main concern. What would happen when Santa never came? I pictured her riding the school bus on the first day back from Christmas break. One boy would ask what she got from Santa Claus. She would have to lie.
“I have my PJs on, Lily,” Brielle’s voice travelled from upstairs.
I made my way up the carpeted stairs, finding it hard not to smile at Bri ruling from above. She wore a red and white fleece onesie, decked out in snowflakes and reindeer, as well as a shiny silver tiara.
“Those are cute,” I said, “and the crown is a nice touch, your Highness.” I did my best curtsey and followed her to her room.
WHILE WE SLEPT
That night, I woke up in a foreign room. The blinds were left partially opened, allowing the moon to mark the wall with thin slits of light. My suitcase lay open in the middle of the hardwood. The once folded clothes escaped from its edges. The room was bigger than any other bedroom I had called mine. I blindly searched for my phone, forgetting where I had left it when I fell asleep. The bright light from my lock screen made me squint. It was three o’clock in the morning.
I crawled out of bed, my bare feet meeting the smooth oak flooring. The door was left ajar while I slept. I opened it now, cautiously, hoping not to wake anyone. Beyond the door was a shadowy hallway, one I was not familiar enough with to feel my way through. I turned on the flash of my phone, dimming it with the corner of my t-shirt. While making my way to the bathroom, I noticed a lone picture frame hung to the wall. I shone the light on it and the three of them in a park came into view. There were autumn leaves, blurred shades of yellow and orange framing their faces. Walking down the gravel pathway was Brielle, smiling ear-to-ear, holding Mom’s hand to her right and Will’s hand to her left. She was looking up, smiling at Mom. The photographer must have forced her to hold both of their hands.
“Is everything alright?”
I spun on my heels. Will stood a few feet away, his concern illuminated by my flashlight. I wondered if I woke him up. “Yeah sorry, I was just on my way to the bathroom,” I replied.
“It’s alright.” He shifted his gaze to the picture frame. “I noticed the light and wanted to see if you needed anything.”
Brielle’s dad would say the same thing. He was the one around to talk to when I couldn’t fall asleep at night. Mom would have a morning shift at the nursing home, her alarm clock set to wake her at four-thirty. I wasn’t a kid anymore, I couldn’t bother her, nor did I wish to. But I wouldn’t wake up Aaron. He would be waiting for me.
I was open to seeing him as family at first. He was my mom’s first serious relationship since my father. When I got up in the middle of the night, he’d cook me grilled cheese or we’d watch How I Met Your Mother on low volume. I felt, at the time, that he was my friend. I had believed that his intentions were good, that he wanted to protect me.
“Thank you, but I think I’m good.”
He nodded and took a few steps down the hall. “The bathroom is right here.” Turning the light on, he flashed a warm smile.
STELLA’S BREAKFAST
Although it was late December, the morning sun felt warm across my face. If I were anywhere else, I would have stayed curled up in it like a cat. But not here. I sat upright, stripping away the blankets wrapped around my torso, twisted around my ankles. I was beginning to feel a dissonance being here. Not one shoe out of place, furniture that I associated with other families, not ours—an only child and her mother and father in front of the camera. Maybe I’d go somewhere else. But where? And I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brielle still needed me. What if she wasn’t really happy here? She had held onto my pant leg like she would never let go.
The scent of bacon grease travelled up the stairs. It wrapped around me as I entered the bathroom to brush my teeth. I could hear Brielle giggling.
“Do you want chocolate chips or blueberries?” His voice was a bit muffled through the walls.
“Chocolate chips, please!” Brielle’s voice chimed. I could have guessed that—she only ever asked for chocolate chips in her pancakes. From what I was hearing, I expected a big breakfast when I got down there. Bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast, pancakes—something special for the guest.
I threw on a maroon hoodie that was hanging in the bedroom closet. Realising it was from my sophomore year of high school, I traced my finger along the embroidered husky mascot. That year I was on the junior varsity basketball team and we had won provincials. How did she still have this? Mom had not shown up at a single one of those games.
Then, a shy knock at my already-open bedroom door. I barely heard it.
“Good morning.” She stood timidly in the doorway, “I didn’t want to bother you—I just thought you might be hungry.” Mom held one of those fancy bamboo trays with folding legs. I didn't know what to think of it.
“Hey, I’m so sorry—I was going to come down, I didn’t set an alarm, and—”
“Lily, it’s okay. I didn’t even know if you’d be awake yet.”
I grabbed my phone and looked at the time. It was almost eleven o’clock in the morning. “What do you mean? It’s practically midday.”
“You travelled all day yesterday and this is your holiday. I want you to rest. I actually hoped that you would still be asleep.” She seemed to study my expression as she said this.
I peered at the serving tray in her hands. There sat an omelette topped with cheddar, bits of bacon, and onion on a porcelain plate. A smaller dish held toasted sourdough, blackberry jam coating the triangular halves. It was the good stuff from Stella’s, I could tell from the pieces of fruit in it. The entire meal was a replica of my order.
I remembered that day, pushing around the remnants of my omelette with my fork. I couldn’t hear myself think. It was pretty busy for a Wednesday morning. You’d think people would be at work, or school, or doing something more important. Instead of going into work that day, Mom had asked me if I wanted to skip school and have brunch at Stella’s. We never ate meals together, never mind meals at my favourite restaurant.
She had said, “You know how the doctors suspected I was entering early menopause?”
I can still hear the hesitation in her voice. She was never like that. I just looked at her with a blank stare.
“Well,” she took a bite of her food. Swallowed. Paused. Then finally, “I’m pregnant.”
I immediately knew she would be keeping it. She wouldn’t have told me if she wasn’t. I couldn’t believe she was deciding to keep Aaron’s child. After everything. That’s when I told her she was a whore and walked out. It felt personal that she was going to raise that man’s child. That I would have to raise that man’s child.
Now she was holding that same meal—one that she had ruined for me—at waist-height, waiting for me to speak. “Did you need to tell me something?” I dropped my eyes to the floor. Between us, my suitcase was still undone. Some of the items were completely removed, scattered. I started to weep like a child.
She changed just then. Placing the tray on the nearest surface, Mom rushed over to me. Maybe she was just like this now.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she held me. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
For the first time, I didn’t have to say a word. I didn’t have to convince her of what he did to us—of what he did to me. Finally, she knew.
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
“Where to?” Will asked as I hopped into the front seat of his black Ford F-150.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, “it seems like you may know her better than me now.”
“Don’t be silly. How about we go walk around the mall?”
“Sure,” I fidgeted with one of the beaded bracelets on my wrist. “Thanks again.”
Will pulled out of the curved driveway. A soft grin formed as he stared down the quiet street. It was the afternoon now, however the neighborhood appeared deserted. A brisk wind whipped gusts of snow through the air, keeping most people indoors. This was the case for Mom and Bri at least. The original plan was to go sledding after breakfast, though the conditions forced them to settle for decorating gingerbread. Four gingerbread houses had been purchased a few days prior, but I asked Will if he could take me somewhere. It was my only choice since Mom was the one I hadn’t found a gift for.
“What’d you buy her?” Each building conjoined into a long row as we sped down Portage Avenue.
“A couple of different things,” Will said, “I suppose the main thing is the vacation.”
“The what?” I turned my attention toward him.
“Your Mom and I talked about some dream travel destinations when we were getting to know each other. I still can’t believe that she’s never been on a plane before. She laughed when I asked her about where she would like to visit. I got the sense that she’d never really thought about it.”
I listened intently as he spoke. I watched him travel back to that time in his mind. The creases around his eyes as he let out a chuckle. This look of pure admiration.
“I knew from that moment I’d have to take her somewhere,” he continued. “She seemed a bit nervous about travelling and I have some family in New York. It’s two short plane rides on the same continent and we’d only be gone for a week. She deserves some time off.”
I smiled for her. Then I said, “When I decided to apply for universities in the U.S. Mom always bugged me about the possibility of going somewhere in New York. Even if it was just the state. To be in the same vicinity as Law & Order excited her. Her obsession with that show is ridiculous.”
We were both laughing now.
“Yeah exactly,” Will added, “I hadn’t even thought of that. That makes it even better.”
“I hope you know I’m definitely not topping that,” I said.
Will turned to look at me for a moment. The warm smile from the night before returned. He seemed so content to be here. So content with helping me. Like there really wasn’t anything behind his eyes except sincerity. Like I was the daughter of the woman he loved. That was all.
“You know she’s already received her favourite gift, Lily,” he said as he flicked the left indicator.
Here we go, I thought. Now we were actors in a Hallmark movie. I wanted to stop him right there, before he pushed his luck with his sentiments.
He continued, “She hasn’t seen you in so long and she feels really guilty. For a lot of things. And well, you and I both know she shouldn’t blame herself but—you know how she is.” He stopped himself and took a breath. “I guess I’m just saying that you being here means the world to her.”
The way he spoke about her was so different from the way anyone else had. What he said wasn’t too much because it felt honest. Me being here mattered a lot to him because it mattered to her.
But then, I remembered Aaron.
“Your mom should really be here more,” he would say from his place at the edge of my bed.
“She’s busy. It’s nothing new.”
“I know.” His eyes would be glued to the glow of the TV screen, “You are such a good kid, though. You deserve more.”
The worst part had been that I believed he was right—I was important and she was blind to not see that. He wanted to show me how important I was. That was how it started.
“Do you love her, Will?” I blurted out. The words felt like they came from somewhere else. They vibrated through the parking garage of the mall and sat heavily on my shoulders as we walked.
“I know we haven’t been together for very long and to you, I’m a stranger.” Will spoke slowly. “You should know though, I do love her. I find a new reason to love her with each day.”
CHRISTMAS EVE
The small gingerbread men stared at me from the mantelpiece above the fire. Mom’s had just the right amount of icing to keep each side stuck firmly together. Brielle’s had it dripping off the slanted roof, exploding through the crevices. Each had its own two gingerbread men guarding from the snowy front lawns.
“That one’s me and this one’s you,” Brielle had explained when Will and I got back from shopping yesterday.
“Is that right?” I had asked. “Why do you get a purple gumdrop on yours and I don’t?”
Looking side to side, Bri had grinned and whispered, “’Cause I ate the other ones.”
Now I sat there, swallowed by the cushions, staring at the two of us in gingerbread form, while Mom prepared the last bits of dinner in the kitchen. It was Christmas Eve already and I couldn’t shake the fact that I would be leaving Brielle again in a week. The longer I stayed the harder it was to go. She would be okay though, I thought. Mom was so different now and Will actually seemed like a good guy. I may have been wrong all this time. I just needed to give it a little bit of time.
Will walked in and grabbed another log, placing it softly on top of the burning wood. “You know, I think she’s really going to like that vest you picked out,” he said. “Before we went on our walk this morning she talked about wanting something lighter to wear in the spring.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t just tracking us through the mall on her phone?” I joked.
“Maybe she was. Or maybe you just know her better than you think you do.”
“Sure, we’ll go with that.” I stood up. “I think I should go see if she needs some help in the kitchen. I’m a bit worried about how this will turn out.”
“Not a bad idea,” he said, giving me a wink.
I smelled rosemary as I made my way into the kitchen. Mom was bent over the open oven door, reaching for one of the tinfoil-covered pans. Brielle was sitting at the small island, legs dangling, coloured pencils splayed across the marble, her little fist clenched around Pine Green.
“I came to see if you needed some help,” I said. “On second thought, it surprisingly smells really good.”
“I hope it tastes just as good as it smells,” Mom laughed.
“Mommy, did you make mashed potatoes?” Brielle looked up from her half-drawn Christmas tree.
“Yes,” she said while tearing off the tinfoil of a glass dish containing carrots.
“And gravy?” Brielle began to bounce.
“Yes, my girl. Mashed potatoes and gravy.”
Brielle jumped down from her chair and peered up at me. “Lily, did you hear that?” She stood frozen, charging up all of her energy, awaiting my response.
“Heard what?” I said, playing along.
“Mom. Is. Making,” Brielle’s eyes widened with each word, “Mashed. Potatoes.”
“And. Gravy?”
Bri grabbed my hand and dragged me along. This time I followed. “And gravy!” she sang, holding each syllable, as we exited the kitchen and turned the corner into the dining room.
We kept going, aiming to complete a full loop around the bottom floor of the house. Just before we made it back to the kitchen, Brielle let go of my hand and jumped onto the couch. She pushed off of her hands to stand up and I knew I should stop her but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Jumping up and down, Brielle shouted, “Mom is making mashed potatoes and gravy! And Santa Claus is coming to town. And my big sister is home for Christmas.”
Her performance illuminated the cozy room. She was twirling and singing and repeating and dancing and jumping. I got up there and joined her. The couch creaked beneath our joined weight and uneven bouncing. One of the pillows flew onto the ground. I had a big, stupid smile on my face.
“What’s going on over here?” Will asked, entering the living room. He was pretending to be stern but I could sense a lightness to his tone. Still, Brielle and I both froze at the sound of his voice. She looked at me and then back at Will. Grabbing my hand again, she got off the couch and pulled me away.
“Be careful,” she said as we went, “we don’t want to upset the Grinch.”
AN UNBREAKABLE TRADITION
The Christmas Eve festivities were over. Brielle had fizzled out quickly after being so wound up. Now, in my new bedroom, I felt like a little girl trying to fall asleep, plagued by the giddiness of presents being under the tree the next morning. It was the feeling I got when I was Brielle’s age. Of course our tree back then would be bare underneath and I eventually realized it always would be; though at that age, I still had hope. Never could I have guessed that a similar excitement would return.
Christmas dinner had been quite good for Mom’s first attempt. Still, she had complained about the turkey being too dry. I didn’t notice, though that may have been due to the pool of gravy on my plate. After dinner, Brielle used her remaining energy to ask about opening a single present. Because she was unsuccessful, I could picture her right now, lying in the next room, finding it just as difficult to fall asleep.
I was so excited to watch her tear through the wrapping paper, to find out what she got from Santa. We could take some photos all together. The first Christmas as a real family. After all of these years.
The urge to go and see Brielle snuck up on me. I shouldn’t, I thought. What if she was fast asleep? It was pretty late. What if she wasn’t though? What if I snuggled up next to her and read her a bedtime story to help her fall asleep?
I figured there was no harm in getting up to check. I glided across the hardwood toward the door. My suitcase was no longer in the middle of the floor. It was neatly packed up, tucked into the corner against the wall. This time, my door was closed, so I turned the handle steadily, trying my best not to make a sound.
Brielle’s room was at the other end of the hallway, past the bathroom. I waited a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dark because a flashlight could wake someone up. Silence filled the space. At the very end of the hall, the door to the master bedroom was shut. It seemed like everyone was asleep. I could have just gone back into my room; though, from my angle, I couldn’t tell if Brielle’s door was closed or not.
I made my way down the hallway, passing by that same family photo from two nights ago. I paused to look at it. That old uneasiness was replaced with a sense of peace. Maybe Brielle took Will’s hand in hers because she wanted to. She had her own life. Her experience wasn’t going to be the same as mine. I didn’t have to worry.
Looking in front of me again, I noticed that Brielle’s door wasn’t shut. I saw a small crack of darkness between the door and its frame. She was probably sleeping. I wanted to see her asleep now. Safe and at home. Dreaming about tomorrow.
I kept going, past the bathroom door, the same silence following me. I could see pretty clearly now, placing my fingertips around the edge of Brielle's bedroom door and slowly pulling it open.
Then I saw his tall figure. Leaning over her. No sound. Frozen. I continued to open the door. Wider. It got a bit caught. A small sound. He heard it. He turned his head. He saw me in the doorway. I ran away.
“Lily?” He followed me now.
It was the same. No glow of the TV screen to reveal what he was doing. I didn’t need it though. I could see him. I knew.
“Lily, are you okay?” he asked, alarmed.
The same. Finally falling asleep. Wrapped in a blanket. A false sense of security. Aaron touching me. I didn’t understand it. Why would that make me important? It made me less. He made me hate myself.
Will placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” I pushed past him, back down the hall. Toward Brielle’s room.
“What are you doing?” Will traced my steps.
I rushed into her room. She was fast asleep. Still. I shook her small frame.
“It’s time to wake up, Brielle. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Brielle turned away from me, letting out a tired groan. I tore off the blankets that covered her. Her stuffed animals flew wildly through the air.
“What the hell is going on?” Mom’s voice cut into me.
Brielle’s eyes were finally opening. I walked over to her closet and rifled through the different sweaters. I picked the warmest one. Then, to the drawers. She needed socks.
“Enough,” Mom said, putting both hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face her.
“You let another pedophile into your home.” I stared at her blankly, “Do you have a thing for men who rape little girls?”
Her grip loosened. A gloss formed rapidly over her eyes. It shined even in the dark. I wanted her to fucking break.
I continued what I was doing, ignoring my audience. Will stood in the doorway. He said absolutely nothing.
“Come on, Bri,” I said. “Put this on, it’s cold outside.”
She saw her Mommy crying and she followed suit.
“It’s okay,” I tried to comfort her, “I’m here.”
“Why are you making Mommy cry?” Brielle asked.
“She’ll be okay, don’t worry. We have to go.”
Brielle looked at me with so much confusion. It was Christmas. What was going on? I couldn’t explain it to her. She just had to listen.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. She got off her bed and retrieved one of her fallen stuffed animals. It looked worn down. It was a stuffed dog of mine that had been passed down.
“Brielle, you don’t understand.” My voice was shaky, “I’m doing this to protect you.”
She was curled in a ball, facing the adjacent wall, hugging the toy tightly. I put my hand on her side, trying to get her to look at me. She started to squirm.
“Go away,” she said between tears. “Go away, Lily.”
“No—you don’t get what’s going to happen if you—”
“Stop!” she screamed. “Don’t touch me.”
I stopped. I retreated back to the floor. I couldn’t move. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I could feel my mom’s eyes.
“Let’s talk about this outside,” Mom said.
It was time to get up. I couldn’t. I gave it my best shot. My legs were weak. My head was light. Everything was wrong. Brielle was sobbing. Her tears soaked the stuffed dog.
“Lily, come on,” Mom said, her voice sharp.
I took in the room once more: Brielle afraid of me, Mom leading me away, Will gone now. Mom closed the door as we walked out. I couldn’t find it in me to stay upright. Mom took a deep breath. Just as she was about to say something, I escaped down the stairway.
WE COULD BE
The sky was pitch black. Not a single cloud. There weren’t really any stars, either. I thought it must be because of the light pollution—though that didn’t explain the absence of the moon. New moon, I guessed.
It was cold outside. Even colder than normal for Winnipeg. The wind was probably making it worse. I couldn’t feel it though. I was lying on the ground. I’d picked the front yard with the fluffiest snow. The best yard for snow angels. I had been running for a while. I don’t think I made it very far.
I kept my arms and legs moving in unison. Opening and closing. Hoping to leave my mark. Eventually I stopped. I remained still. Maybe I’d see Santa and his reindeer soaring through the night. I waited.
I wasn’t wearing a jacket. I had run down the stairs, bursting through the front door, and left it swinging wide open. The cold was taking over now. I thought about frostbite. Hypothermia.
I couldn’t really feel it. I almost could fall asleep here, I thought, then sat up for a moment and scanned the road. No one was around. Some families had left their string lights on overnight. White to my right, and blue to my left. I had picked a discreet street.
Lying back down, I closed my eyes. I could hear tree branches sway. Sometimes the faintest sound of a car in the distance. All of the families in their houses, safe and sleeping soundly. The cold ground welcomed my shoulders, my arms, my head. Everything numbed as I let myself rest.