Just Add Spice

“You’re here,” Linney sobbed. “You’re really here. I can’t believe it. I thought… Damn it, Jen, I thought I’d never see you again. That you’d never want to see me again—not after what I did. The way I left you. Jen, I’m so sorry!”

“I’m sorry too. I found you so easily today. I could have done it sooner, Lin. I just…” She sucked in a breath. Pulled away. Clasping her sister’s shoulders, Jenna said, “I assumed you didn’t want to be in contact with me. I’m so accessible and you didn’t reach out and that just made me believe you had no desire to ever connect with me again. And I was too terrified to be the one to make the first move. But then…someone showed me that it’s a hell of lot better to take a shot in the dark than forever wonder what might have been.”

“Oh, God, Jen. I wanted to call you—I really did. After I saw you on TV. I thought about sending an email. A letter. Whatever. I didn’t know what to say. But more than that…I was so afraid you’d tell me to go to hell.”

“I get it, Lin. I do. Neither one of us every truly learned to deal with shit like this. But things have changed. At least…they have for me.”

With a nod, Linney said, “I have journals, Jen. Dozens. I’ve written in them since the day I left the RV. About all the places I’ve been, the people I’ve met. And how desperately I’ve missed you.”

A few more drops trickled down Jenna’s flushed cheeks. “You were my whole world, Linney. I’ve missed you too.” She hugged her sister again. They

clung to each other, weeping, until Jenna had the inescapable compulsion to pull away and quietly demand, “What is that godawful smell?”

Linney swiped at her tears and said, “My dinner. I think it’s burning.”

She hurried into the kitchen and Jenna trailed along behind her. “Whoa, that’s wretched.” The scent of the charred food filled the small room. Jenna lifted a box from the counter and said, “A Jennie-O turkey roll, Linney? Seriously?”

“Beats the hell out of turkey sandwiches,” her sister said. She opened the oven door and a plume of smoke billowed out. Linney waved her hand in the air, then reached for a potholder and yanked the pan from the rack, setting it on the stove. “Son of a gun. Now I don’t have a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“Good Lord. We are the most pathetic women.” Jenna glanced around the sparsely decorated kitchen.

Linney’s gaze followed. “I don’t like to collect stuff. The walls are a bit bare.”

“At least you own a few things. A sofa. Pots and pans.” She glanced back at her sister. “I have nothing but a cell phone, an iPad and some clothes. Well, I do like my shoes too, but the point is, I’ve been living out of hotels most of my adult life. With the exception of the time I’ve spent at my ex-husband’s loft here in San Francisco.”

“I’d read that you’d gotten married. I didn’t hear about the divorce. I’m sorry.”

“We kept it under wraps for the most part. But we’re still close.” She eyed her sister a moment, then said, “Linney, I’m having Thanksgiving with Rafe and his family and I want you to come with me. Have a real turkey for dinner.”

Linney’s jaw slackened.

Jenna rushed on. “You can tell me what you’ve been doing for the past thirteen years. Tell me about the bookstore. Meet some really fantastic people. Drink a lot of wine. What do you say?” Jenna pleaded with her, not the least bit ashamed of how intensely she wanted to spend the holiday with her sister.

Linney still hedged. “I don’t know, Jen. I’m not so great with crowds, you know?”

Jenna let out a soft laugh. “Yes, I know. I suffer the same affliction. But…you’ll get used to them. I am. You just have to keep putting yourself out there. Baby steps. This is one. Come with me,” she urged. “If it’s too overwhelming, you just sit in the corner with your wine and let them all have at it—talk around you.” She winked. “Little trick of mine.”

Linney didn’t budge. Jenna crossed the tiny room and shut off the oven. She said, “I’ll clean up this mess. You go change out of the yoga suit and I’ll drive us over. They’re not far from here.”

Her sister wrung her hands, but then nodded slowly. “Okay. Just…give me a few minutes. I wasn’t expecting company.”

Jenna said, “You look great. Really, Linney. All that blonde hair and geez…you’re just so pretty.”

“You too.” She kissed Jenna on the cheek and said, “Thanks for coming. I’ve tried so long to force myself to make the first move, but I couldn’t stomach you slamming the door in my face.”

“I never would.”

She sighed. “You’d have every right to.”

“No,” Jenna said with a definitive shake of her head. “That’s not true. You had the right to leave. I left too. Just as abruptly. And to be honest…” She stared her sister squarely in the eyes and confessed, “I never wanted to look back as far as the RV was concerned. I never wanted to see it again.”

“I hated that damn thing,” Linney said in an edgy voice. “What a shitty way to be raised.”

“Yeah. There’s certainly some residual damage that goes along with having bohemian parents.”

Linney studied her a moment before asking, “Is that what caused the problems in your marriage?”

“Primarily.”