Discovering Us Series 5: Perpetuity

TYLER

“Hey, Mom.” Carla spins around to see me standing in the doorway, Ella snoozing on my shoulder. I’d just handed Tilly over to Sophie, and Ella had dozed off in the car. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, even though I knew Violet would give me an earful when Ella refused to sleep tonight.

“She shouldn’t be napping past one thirty,” Carla says, turning back to fold laundry on the kitchen table, a small smile playing on her lips.

“It’s only two. It can’t make that much of a difference, right?” I ask, sounding more clueless than I intended. She chuckles in response.

“Son, you better brace yourself for a sleepless night,” she warns, then asks, “What brings you here?”

“I need help designing wedding rings for Callum and Zach,” I explain. They’d decided it was Violet’s and my job to do that, but with Violet swamped, it looks like it’s all on me.

At least I don’t have to worry about my own ring. Apparently, Zach’s already got me an upgrade. It’s a nice gesture, I guess, especially since his ring disappeared when they…were kidnapped. A new marriage, a fresh start, and a new ring seemed fitting.

“Men usually go for plain bands, right?” Carla asks.

“Yes, usually. But I want the band to be made of four parts. I thought it could click together to form one band that symbolizes the four of us, like Violet’s engagement ring,” I explain.

“It sounds like you already have a clear idea of what you want. How can I help?” she asks.

“What kind of metal should I use? One or multiple? Zach chose a black band last time,” I say.

“My son does love black,” she chuckles.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you schedule an appointment with the jewelers in town? They can probably give you better advice than I can. I mean, my wedding was almost forty years ago, and my band is just plain yellow gold, Tyler,” she suggests, smiling as she sets the laundry aside to pick up Ella. She wakes her with gentle kisses and cuddles until her sweet eyes flutter open.

“Nana,” Ella whispers in her soft, barely audible voice. She reaches up to touch Carla’s face, a gesture she reserves for those she loves.

“Good afternoon, sweet girl. Daddy’s been naughty letting you sleep. Are you hungry?” Carla asks. Ella nods, a dimple appearing on her left cheek that never fails to melt my heart.

Violet recently showed me pictures of herself at Ella’s age, and I hate to admit it, but even though Ella was born looking like me, she’s grown to be the spitting image of her mother, except for one eye, of course. That eye is a similar shade of light brown to mine.

“I have cookies and that marshmallow fluff you like on toast or crackers, and lots of fruit. What would you like?” Carla asks, leading Ella to the fridge. She’s as wonderful a grandmother as she is a mother.

“A… apple.” Ella points to a bag of apples on top of the fridge.

“Good choice. Here you go, sweetheart,” Carla hands her an apple and helps her onto the kitchen island. As Ella sits cross-legged munching on her apple, Carla plays with her hair.

“Your hair’s grown so long. I bet when it’s wet, it’s even longer, just like Rapunzel’s.”

“Daddy Cal says it needs a cut, but Mommy told him to fuck off,” Ella says, causing Carla to look at me in shock. I can’t help but laugh. Hearing that word from our three-year-old’s mouth… It’s both shocking and hilarious. I guess that’s why my mother was so against us using such language.

“Well, Mommy shouldn’t be using the f-bomb around little ears,” Carla tries to keep a straight face but fails.

“Should I tell Dada Zach and Daddy Cal not to use the fu—f-bomb word?” Ella asks innocently.

“No…no. I’ll talk to them, sweetheart,” Carla assures her.

Ella’s speech has improved significantly over the past few months, thanks to her speech therapist. She still chooses not to speak around strangers, and she has a slight lisp that makes some sounds difficult for her to pronounce. In that respect, our little girl is just like her mother.

She’s also incredibly talented with a pencil and the piano, probably because Violet spends every spare minute teaching all four kids how to play simple tunes or draw. Tilly’s not too interested but sits for a few minutes. Ella and Atticus enjoy playing, and I think Asher does it to make his mother happy. He’s still very attached to Violet, and it’s gotten worse since she weaned both of them last month before Christmas.

The sleepless nights Asher had because of it were torturous for three weeks straight, and since then, he’s been having night terrors. So he’s never gotten back into his regular sleeping pattern.

“Where’s Grandpa?” Ella asks.

“He’s in his office. Want to take him some cookies?” Ella nods, and Carla helps her down from the counter, handing her a plate with two cookies from the fresh batch by the oven.

“Remember to knock, sweetheart,” Carla calls after her, but Ella’s already racing off. Not that Carla needs to worry. Ella’s manners are impeccable for her age.

“Violet’s going to have to watch her language,” Carla says.

“Zach’s worse,” I reply, reaching for a cookie.

“I know. I didn’t mind my language,” Carla laughs, returning to her laundry. She really didn’t.

“When are you free?” I ask.

“For what?”

“To go to the jewelers.”

“Oh, right. Any day except next Thursday. I have to do the school run for Ava that day.”

“How’s my sister?” I ask. Kelsie has been distant since the whole ordeal with Tilly, and even though we spent last Christmas together, we barely spoke. Things are still tense between her, my mother, and me. But at least there’s some communication with my mother.

“She’s finally left Aaron and moved into the apartment Zach gave her a few years ago. She’s seeking help for her mental health. Maybe you should reach out to her. She misses you,” Carla suggests.

“She’s the one who pushed me away, who didn’t believe me about Tilly’s paternity,” I remind her. Carla gives me a sad smile.

“People make mistakes, Tyler. That was hers. Don’t hold it against her for being human,” she advises. She’s right, of course. I know she is. It’s unfair for me to blame my sister when the legal facts supported her assumptions, and as she pointed out back then, it’s not like I had a flawless track record.

I miss my sister and niece. We barely see Ava except on the rare occasions when Carla or my mother have her. I’d always dreamed that our kids would be as close as we were. I guess that was wishful thinking. Maybe if you reach out, it can become a reality.

“Your mother’s right. Your sister misses you. And you obviously miss her. Reach out, go for coffee or have a play date with Ava. Fix the wrongs and move past it before you lose more time,” Jerry suggests, walking into the room with Ella on his hip, munching on her cookie.

“I don’t like Ava,” Ella says through a mouthful of cookie.

“Oh dear, why not?” Jerry asks, frowning.

“She hurts me. Look.” Ella lifts her shirt to show a small round bruise on her ribs, the origin of which we had no idea.

“Ava did that?” I ask, anger flaring up at the thought of my sister’s child hurting my own.

“She wanted my book, and I said no, so she hit me with her truck,” Ella explains innocently. I exchange a furious glance with Carla and Jerry, struggling to keep my anger in check. I don’t want to upset Ella.

“Well, sweetheart, next time that happens, can you tell an adult? Then we can teach her that it’s wrong to hurt people,” Carla suggests, saying exactly the right thing without hesitation.

“Okay, Nana,” Ella agrees, smiling as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. I bite my lip, resisting the urge to call Kelsie right away and confront her about Ava’s unacceptable behavior toward Ella. I’d heard Zach mention that Ava was a bit too aggressive, but damn, I didn’t realize how much it would affect me to know it’s one of my own kids. Or is it more than one of my kids?

“It’s all she knows, darling. You can’t expect anything else from her,” Carla says, patting my arm and walking over to the coffee machine, worry lines creasing her forehead.

“That’s no excuse,” I retort as Jerry walks out the back door, probably to give Ella a break from the tension.

“Ava’s upbringing hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses. Her father’s violent tendencies have taught her that fists are the answer to problems. Kelsie is fully aware of Ava’s behavior, which is why she’s got her seeing a therapist.”

A therapist? At five years old? How was I in the dark about all this?

“She’s in therapy?”

“She didn’t have much of a choice. She’s been lashing out at school too.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell us?” Carla dismisses my question with a shrug, then turns to me, her face serious.

“Kelsie feels like her brothers despise her. When she saw Ava push Tilly and Zach lose his cool, accusing her of teaching Ava that violence is okay, she broke down. It made her feel even worse than she already did, but it also served as a wake-up call.” She moves around the counter to take my hands.

“Your sister is trying to create a better life for herself and Ava. It’s our responsibility to help them heal from the abuse, to assist them in overcoming their issues and lead a happy, fulfilled life.”

Damn, I need to reach out to my sister.