Rini might dismiss me as a progressive Manhattan-raised brat, but she doesn’t understand. My brother and I are the last living Flynns in our lineage. Adam’s got three girls, and I’ll plant the seed of responsibility in them to keep their name, the way I have, but I’d like to help carry on our surname too.
Family is everything to me. Adam and I lost our parents tragically when we were in elementary school. Nana raised us and was lucky enough to see us graduate from high school, but she passed away when I was twenty. For so long, my brother was my whole world. Then Ted came to save me from myself. Now I have three wonderful nieces. The last, most perfect piece, will be children of my own.
“Do we have to decide right now?” he asks.
“Yes, right this instant. Yes or no.”
I break my serious glare to show him I’m kidding. We laugh together. It’s a moment I want to hold on to. I’ve been so focused on my clients, and getting pregnant, and my brother’s erratic behavior, that I’ve lost the best parts of myself. I want them back.
I rest my head on the Adirondack chair I’ve been dreaming of and show my face to the sun. Ted and I sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, but my brain can’t help itself. When I’m feeling good, it flies to the future. It’s been two weeks since my last ovulation cycle, tracked on both my Ava bracelet and the Ovia app. Could I be pregnant at this very moment? I promised Ted I wouldn’t bring any tests—it’s one weekend—but I’m rethinking that now. When Adam gets here, we’ll sneak off to one of the 7-Elevens on the main road. Adam will come with me for a pack of cigarettes, his own contraband.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. When I dig it out, Adam’s number blinks on my screen. I swipe right.
“You off the expressway yet?” I ask. “That’s when the real traffic starts.”
“Uh,” Adam says.
My heart races without a conscious thought. Swatting away his excuses has become an automatic response.
“Adam, do not tell me that you’re stuck at work, or you have to clean the gutters or wait for a furniture delivery. I will not hear your lousy reasons. Not this weekend.”
Adam’s down cycles usually pass in a month or two, but he’s been blatantly ignoring me for six months. I have no idea what’s gotten into my brother, but it stops on this trip. I need to get him alone and have a real conversation with him. I can’t do that if he’s not here.
“Chill, I’m coming,” Adam says. Despite my harsh words, he sounds like he’s in a good mood, teasing me for fun. He continues speaking, but I catch only every fifth word. Something about a train. Or did he say rain? Neither of them makes sense. The sun is shining and he should be in his car.
Rini had warned us that the house would assist us in unplugging from our busy everyday lives, but I thought she meant with beautiful vistas, drinking excursions, and friendly competitive games by the fire, not zero cell towers. I step through the sliding door, hoping there’s better reception inside. Through the windows across the house, I spot my brother’s Acura SUV already parked in the lot in front of the house.
I end the call and throw open the front door as the trunk slowly rises.
To my dismay, I hear Aimee’s and Farah’s voices.
“Why are you driving my brother’s car?” I ask.
“It’s Aimee’s car too, isn’t it?” Farah says.
“No, traffic wasn’t bad. How about you?” Aimee asks, pretending we’re having a different conversation.
Farah and Aimee grab their bags in tandem. Aimee wears a bold cobalt-blue jumpsuit that screams I’m here to have fun. In opposition, Farah wears a tailored white shirt and linen pants with a statement necklace that exudes refined elegance—the outfit of someone who would look down her nose at Aimee’s child-free weekend antics. And yet, the two women are inseparable. I invite Farah to our family getaway every year because her boys are best friends with my nieces, but her company provides distraction for Aimee. With her around, Aimee doesn’t get pissy at my sibling inside jokes and shenanigans with Adam. But really, it weirds me out, the two of them. Who becomes best friends with their OB?
“Adam called, but we got cut off before he could tell me when he’s getting here. I thought you were him,” I say.
“Obviously,” Farah says. She can’t watch Aimee struggle with her roller bag on the gravel and takes it from her.
“He had to be in the city today. Some big meeting with his agent,” Aimee says.
At last count, Adam was at least thirty thousand words behind schedule on his new book, and a lashing from his agent wouldn’t be a great start to our bonding weekend.
“So he’s on his way?” I ask, wishing I could have heard him better when he called rather than relying on Aimee.
Farah scoots past me while Aimee stays behind.
“He said he’s taking the train,” she says.
“He’s taking the train in the future or he’s on it now? Our readings start in a couple of hours.”
Aimee puts her hand on my shoulder and leans her weight on me.
“You’d know better than I would,” she says.
I thumb my cuticle in worry. I grab my phone out of my pocket.
Are you on the train? I text Adam.
There’s only one train east a day. Are you kidding me?
I press the call button, but it goes straight to voice mail.
It’s not my fault, Margot. I’ll come tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning? I type the question mark, my heart breaking through the phone.
A minute passes. Two. No response comes. The screen blurs with my tears. The rage slips through me, quick and silver like mercury. I don’t process the surge until I lift my arm and whip my phone down at my feet. I glance through the window to check whether Aimee or Farah saw, but instead I catch my reflection. The wild eyes and deep frown are startling on my face, but they are familiar. I look like my mother.
I swoop down to pick up my phone. The device stands lodged at an angle in the perfect lawn like an axe stuck in the wall at one of those bad-idea concept bars. While I brush off the dirt and grass, I spot Rini watching me in the distance. I wave as if to communicate all is fine. Rini doesn’t wave back.
STARS HARBOR ASTROLOGICAL RETREAT
