diana-goodwin

[diana-goodwin]

She mulled over what Grace said about their father's unusually large church in comparison to the smaller churches in and around Asheville, and the types of churches shown in film and television when depicting cults. There were definitely similarities between them, despite many of the differences. Maybe it was something she should research another time. Diana could think of a friend or two back home that would have a niche interest in the subject. "Maybe something like a cult of personality," she surmised. "Dad certainly seemed to enjoy having a following."

The information -- or, more accurately, the bomb that her sister dropped on her about the truth of her father's health -- washed over Diana. She blinked, once and then twice, as Grace's words slowly seeped in and the pieces started fitting together. The silence from her mother as she sat at the kitchen table. The rattling breaths her father took. How there hadn't been a blowout fight since Diana had arrived. A strange, unsettling feeling grew in the pit of her stomach, larger until it felt like her veins were turning to ice and she was frozen in place.

In that moment, the only thing Diana could even think to do was this: grab the margarita pitcher, fill up her glass to the rim, and drink it all at once. Less than a minute, and she had drained the glass of its contents. She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand, and her face colored when she realized her poor manners. Diana sat back in her seat and drummed her fingers on the table. "Quality of life?" she asked for clarification, hating how small her voice sounded. "I mean, you said he's stubborn. He can bounce back if he really wants to." A pause. "Right?"

Grace couldn't hid her amusement, tickled by Diana's frank inquiry, though it wasn't as though she was entirely inaccurate in her assessment - church, at least the church that they grew up in, by its very nature demanded complete devotion. Something about the theatricality of it all - the large, ampitheatre-like chapel, the wings of offices flanking the building that housed the clergy as well as the financial officers, the coffee shop in the lobby - demanded a weird, garish sort of reverence. Bobby Goodwin, the king of that castle, had always demanded that the girls give it that reverecne; this was usually easier for Grace than it was for her sister. "It was absolutely cult-y," she affirmed, smirk playing on her lips. "I think it's just...kind of a different kind of cult than maybe what you're seeing back in the south. It's not an apples to oranges comparison, but it's more, like...a mandarin to navel orange comparison." She paused. "I guess we'd be the mandarins in that situation."

Keeping her eyes on Diana, Grace let the information wash over it, waiting for her sister to take it all in. "I guess..." she began, weighing how much she actually wanted Diana to know. It didn't seem right to have flown her own with the intention of withholding information, but to share everything, especially in this setting, may not be...prudent. Still, she knew Diana would know if she was being less than truthful, which frankly would guarantee her a worse fate than if she were to just be transparent. "I don't know. I think, the problem is, now, he's just really weak. So when they get rid of the pneumonia, they think they're in the clear, and then there's no improvement, and then he gets sick again. It's been three times with this. He just..." Grace wet her lips, shifting a bit awkwardly in her seat. "He's stubborn."

At Diana's question, Grace balked a bit, realizing she was not entirely prepared to say what it was she had asked her sister to come up to Ann Arbor to hear. "It's about his quality of life," she said quietly. "About whether or not...he'd get better."

[diana-goodwin]

The very idea of a wedding in their home church made Diana want to gag, and she was sure her face reflected how she felt. The church had always been a place that felt stifling, like an itchy tag on the back of her shirt. She could never sit still enough or pay enough attention for her mother's liking, and she never quite agreed with what her father said at the pulpit. Standing with the imaginary love of her life in front of a church where she often felt judged and confined with the people who contributed to it the most frequently felt more like a Saw trap than a celebration of love. "I think you're probably right," she agreed. "The marriage matters way more than the wedding. That seems to be more for everyone else."

"Do you ever feel like church was kind of cult-y?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "Like it was normal but also, sometimes I'm not sure how normal it was. But then I've seen some crazy places in North Carolina, too. And I don't think we were as bad as that."

She listened with uncharacteristic quiet attentiveness as Grace finally opened up and gave her the full, uncensored truth about their father. It was a relief that the information could be laid out between them without euphemisms or the ability to hide anything anymore. As Diana allowed herself to digest exactly what Grace was telling her, and the implications of it, she swirled the alcohol in her glass, watching the ice cubes clink against each other. "Okay, I get it. I do. But also, how do you just not know how to treat pneumonia? Shouldn't they know how to get rid of it? It's been around forever."

It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all she could focus on. How did doctors not know how to treat a common illness? Was he just expected to suffer? At the mention of an important upcoming appointment, her eyes shot up to meet her sister's. "Important in which way?" she asked, bracing herself for the answer.

Grace waved her hand dismissively as she took a hearty sip. "Oh, no offense taken - you know I love a binder," she offered reassuringly, taking mental note of the idea. "It's not something I necessarily grew up considering, I guess. For a while I thought whoever I'd married I'd want it to be in the church, which--" she widened her eyes and raised her brows, as if that alone could emphasize how absolutely inaccurate that sentiment was now. "I grew out of that. Then I met someone I wanted to marry, and now I don't really care how it happens. I just...I know there's going to be a lot of strangers involved, now. Which is fine! It is. It'll be fine. The marriage is what matters."

Grace swallowed, watching as Diana processed her words. Something lingered between them, unresolved, and Grace waited anxiously for Diana to put her out of her misery and end their weighted silence. When she did finally speak, Grace worked to take an even breath, trying to subtly settle herself. Diana didn't seem particularly angry, though Grace wouldn't have been able to blame her in the slightest. She nodded, mulling over her words. "No," she admitted softly. "No, this isn't...this isn't a sudden development."

Grace took in her sister's expectant expression, and admired the way her face had changed even since they last saw each other. It seemed less...soft, in a way - more angular and refined. She remembered Diana's smooth, smooshy cheeks as a child, the way her little mouth always sat perched in a discerning frown - this was not dissimilar to the face she was giving Grace now. Grace exhaled. "After New Year's, it got worse. He...he got pneumonia, and it just...won't..." Grace shook her head. "They don't know how to get rid of it." She looked down, then, ashamed. The clatter of the restaurant filled the space for a second, and then she continued, "He's struggling."

A beat - then, before Diana could speak, Grace continued, hoping to clarify: "The doctor is coming next Wednesday to check on him. It seemed like it was probably going to be an important appointment. And I wanted you here." She wet her lips. "It's good you're here."

[diana-goodwin]

"Huh."

Frankly, Diana had always imagined Grace's wedding as a grand affair with everyone who had ever loved her in attendance. Church packed to the brim, a horse-drawn carriage, a huge party afterward kind of deal. When it came to her own vision of the future, Diana barely saw herself marrying at all. But to hear her sister say she wanted something small and intimate surprised her, and she shoved another chip in her mouth and washed it down with a rather large sip of her margarita before she replied. "Don't be mad, but I always thought you would have had a whole wedding binder or dedicated pinterest board, or something," Diana admitted through bites of food. "A small backyard wedding does sound nice, though." It did seem fitting for what she knew of Caleb.

You haven't gotten an SOS call yet because there hasn't been a need for one. Diana thought of home, and how the air hung heavy with the smell of illness, and the long stretches of silence where the words she might say were stuck in her throat. It was one thing to hear her father was ailing. It was even one thing to know that logically, he was struggling, and her mother along with him. But to see it in person and to be confronted with the reality of the situation was quiet another. "So you're telling me all of this," she said skeptically, gesturing vaguely, "came up within the past few weeks? You had no idea it was going to get to this point until the last few weeks?"

She let out a breath, and the exhale took more out of her than Diana expected. "Well," she uttered, after a pause. "Happy might be a bit of a stretch. But it's probably important I'm here for a while."

Grace sighed. "I have no idea about the wedding stuff, and to be honest, I'm not looking forward to any of it," she admitted, guilty - she'd never confess as much to Caleb. "I kind of...I don't know. I know this is stupid, but I'd always pictured it being just us and a maybe few people. Maybe by the lake, or...you know, outside, somewhere. Simple." She was embarrassed to admit that she'd thought of it at all, that there was any fantasy behind it. But she'd waited so long, and she loved him so much - it wasn't altogether obscene to think she may have considered it, was it?

Eyeing her sister for a moment, she kneaded her lips to the side quickly as she considered her next words carefully. "You know, you - you haven't gotten an SOS call yet because there hasn't been a need for one," she insisted gently. This much was true: she'd managed to handle it all without alerting Caleb to anything troublesome. But the calm she'd managed to cultivate (relative to her, at least) was quickly dissipating as her dad showed no sign of meaningful recovery following a notable setback a couple of months ago. The doctor mentioned quality of life more than once, causing both Louise and Grace to bristle. Their father, who had grown so angry and spiteful following his initial stroke, would certainly not want the life he led now.

But that didn't feel like the kind of decision they could make without Diana.

When Grace had called her sister, after a not-insignificant amount of pontificating on her part and Caleb's gentle reminders that "it was the right thing," she knew that it was likely going to sound an alarm for Diana. But Diana hadn't been particularly inquisitive or confrontational about it thus far, which was somehow...worse. Grace wondered then, as she gazed at her sister's bright blue eyes, heavy with sincerity, if Diana was just waiting for Grace to admit to all of it. A pang of guilt resounded in Grace's chest.

"I just -I called you because I think it's important you're here. I think...as a family, it's important we're together. And I know mom and dad are happy to see you."

[diana-goodwin]

Give me a number. What?

- Lady Bird (2017), dir: Greta Gerwig.

[diana-goodwin]

Judging from the way the other girl quickly withdrew from the pee chair, Diana felt justified in having spoken up in the first place, and gave a small smile in return. "Ah, just consider it the golden rule, or whatever," she replied easily. She didn't mention that there was astronomically small chance she would ever be someone's angel, if her entire experience as a preacher's kid had proven. "I would hope someone would do the same for me, you know?"

She shrugged when asked about the small child who'd, at this point, left an hour earlier. "I think they were fine. I don't really have experience with kids, but they were pretty small and it seemed like this is just a thing that happens, sometimes." The mother, for her part, had simply moved into action and addressed the problem before going home, child in tow. "And to be fair, the staff did clean up. But maybe I'm a little bit of a snob about hygiene, or something."

Diana moved her computer, notebook and coffee out from the middle of the table to be closer to where she sat, freeing up room for the other person to put down their belongings and set up their own workspace. At the offering of a muffin, Diana looked up, eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! That's so nice of you, thanks," she replied, eyeing the muffins. "Honestly I'm not that hungry so if you want to split one, I'd be down," she acquiesced. Back home, in the south, Diana had learned that turning down someone's offer of kindness was often considered rude, if not hurtful. So this seemed like a decent compromise. "I'm Diana, by the way. Nice to meet you. What are you working on?"

Time alone wasn't exactly something Beatriz found herself coveting, not when her childhood had been lonely enough to last her a lifetime. But for all she loved being surrounded by her roommates and the buzz that was in their home, there were times when she just needed an hour or so to power through work. With the office particularly chatty she'd instead opted for the café nearby, knowing she'd be free from the temptation of getting sucked into her co-workers conversations.

But just as she was about to take a seat a voice caught her attention, causing her to pause with her arm hovering outstretched. "Oh?" Eyes widened slightly in horror, it dawning on her that that was maybe why it was one of the few seats going, pulling her hand away quickly. "Oh. Oh my god, thank you, I've had enough pee on me to last a lifetime already so you're a lifesaver. Did you just wake up this morning and decide you were gonna be someone's hero or is this just an 'all in a days work' kinda thing for you?"

The easy grin that had settled onto her features brightened at the offer, a stroke of luck that she was happy to seize. "That's so kind, thank you." As she manoeuvred herself into the seat she couldn't help but ask after the child that had created the situation. "Was the kid okay?" After plugging in her laptop and organising her space she realised she could repay the kindness she'd been shown in her own way. "Would you like a muffin? I changed my mind halfway through ordering and I didn't have the heart to ask them to change it so I just got them both. The lemon one is really calling my name but if you'd like it over the chocolate chip I'd be willing to part with it. Y'know, since you saved me and all."

[diana-goodwin]

Before Grace even finished saying she was fine, they were fine, everything was fine, Diana snorted. Even as Diana had said it, she'd half expected this response from her sister. "Hmm." She poured from the pitcher into her glass, and took a long sip of the margarita. "I guess Caleb telling me if you're not fine remains to be seen, doesn't it?" she asked lightly. Knowing Grace, she'd probably tell him not to tell her. Make him swear to secrecy. "I mean this as nicely as possible," Diana said. "But I'm not a kid anymore. You can tell me when things are bad. I have the bandwidth for it. It wouldn't be hurting me."

Her eyes widened when Grace dropped the bombshell that someone else was going to pay for the wedding. "His dad?" she asked in disbelief. "Isn't that usually the bride's family's job? Did he do that for the other Ashmore wedding?" Her eyebrows rose, and Diana wondered just how much money this man had squirreled away. "What if his budget is shoestring? Or like -- what if he wants really ugly decorations or flowers that stink?"

On one hand, it was a gift not to have to worry how one would finance an event as extravagant as a wedding. On another, someone else holding the purse strings might mean calling the shots. "Is he just going to give you his black card or what?"

Grace watched as Diana mulled over her words, her lips pursing slightly as she considered her sister's question. It felt foolish to think of herself as needing support - her life had become so routine and measured by this point that she had it down to a near-science - the balance of her dad with work with Caleb. It seemed to find its own equilibrium somehow, though she wasn't altogether cognizant of the idea that it happened to find it largely at her expense. "I didn't need someone to have my back, honey," she insisted warmly, her tone knowing - she could imagine Diana worrying, the anxiety gnawing at her in North Carolina. She hated the idea. "I promise. If I wasn't okay, I would tell you. Well - okay, no, that's not true. But I'm sure Caleb would." She rolled her eyes, then, as if to convey her displeasure at the idea.

"Most beautiful girl in the world," Grace retorted matter-of-factly, chomping into a large chip. She chewed, then swallowed, delighted as the waiter approached with their drinks. Thanking him, she leaned forward to take a large sip from her straw, washing the chip down and continuing, "You could wear pajama bottoms for all I care. I haven't even told you the best part of all of this, have I?" Grace spoke conspiratorially, as if she was about to share sacred gossip. "Caleb's dad wants to pay for it."

[diana-goodwin]

Diana took a moment to look -- really look -- at the man to whom her sister had promised to spend her life. Between the age difference and both of them being victim to circumstance, Diana hadn't spent much time with Caleb in person, beyond facetime with Grace or the occasional holiday. He was her very own ghost, in a sense -- she'd been aware of his presence for years, and had even connected with him time and again, but it was his absence that took up more space in her life. So now, face to face once more, Diana eyed him curiously, this man who had won her kind, warm, loving sister's heart.

"A whole floor, eh?" she replied curiously, peeking over his shoulder to see what it looked like. "Grace told me about the place. That you're fixing it up. Doing it all yourself?" Diana hadn't thought about what it really took to flip a home, or at least renovate it. How involved were they in the restoration? Was he doing every repair by hand, or was he bringing in help when warranted? She followed him through the front entrance into the side room and admired the fact that she was now standing on a floor where once there was, presumably, nothing.

She took the beer with a murmur of thanks and twisted the cap. "Yeah, I wanted to make it out here," she asserted, eager for him to know that she was making an overture of friendship. "I also needed to get out of the house for a bit. Even on a good day, it's ... not great to be cooped up all day." It was easier to get out and about in Asheville, where the climate was milder, but even in Ann Arbor Diana tried to stick to a rule to step outside the house once a day. "So ... you going to take a break after this or are you moving right to the next thing?"

Caleb relished his time working on the house. When he’d bought the gut job, he knew what he was getting himself into. The bones were good, and Caleb could renovate the house to his standards and Grace’s dreams. It was less than they’d been raised with, but it would be home. And home on your own terms would always trump any other sense of materialism. Caleb had known to expect Diana at some point, but after putting his phone back down he’d quickly gotten lost back in the mix of final touches to tiling in the kitchen and bathroom, checking the grout lines when he’d heard a knock at the door. Climbing off of the floor with more effort than he’d have preferred for only being 37, Caleb made his way to the front door, swinging it open to find the beloved younger sister of Grace presenting him with the greatest gift of all. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.” He stepped aside, allowing Diana through the doorway.

“Not really… If you had shown up yesterday I would have had a different answer, but, uh, floor’s in now, so.” Taking the beer from his hands, he waved her into one of the side rooms, where a cooler was situated and a radio was quietly playing a classic rock station, which he muted. Peeling away two beers, he stuff the rest into the icy cooler, where it looked like he’d opted for a shittier light beer as his work companion for the day. Conveniently, there were two camping chairs as well, mostly because Caleb’s grandfather liked to come and watch him work from time to time, or, more accurately, tell him how he would do it. Handing one of the beers back over to Diana, Caleb sank into his chosen chair with a sigh of satisfied exhaustion. “You just wanted to see the place, or…?”

[diana-goodwin]

Diana shrugged by way of reply. Shit happened, and frequently, and it wasn't so much about the fact that it happened at all so much as the hygienic state the chair was now in. "Eh, it's a public place. Things happen sometimes," she said, briefly looking back at her computer screen to see a new email alert. "They did their best to clean up, but I don't know how I'd feel sitting there until I saw someone bring out the steam cleaner, you know?" She couldn't fault the parent, who did their best, or the child, who was probably too small to know any better. But it was still gross, all the same.

"Go for it!" she said, pushing out the chair with her leg, as if to assist the person in front of her with pulling it all the way away. "I'm definitely not using it. Most of the city doesn't even know I'm in Michigan right now, so no one would be meeting up with me even if I wanted them to." Diana snorted at her own reveal of information, as if it were a funny choice she'd made to sneak back in to Ann Arbor, and not just an oversight on her part.

"I'm working, so I won't bother you," she said, as if trying to reassure them. "But if you need me to plug anything in, let me know."

most of hunter's free time was spent in cafes, that is if he's not in a classroom or at work. studying took up a decent chunk of what time they did have, and it was only going to amp up once they started their doctoral program. his roommates did do their best to make sure the apartment was a conducive study environment, but hunter personally felt his best work was done in a different place. so, here they were, trying and failing to find a seat in a busy cafe.

he was eyeing the empty chair, but is quickly turned away upon hearing that someone's kid peed their pants there. giving the chair one last, albeit disgusted now, glance, their attention turns to another chair across from the person who spoke up.

"what the fuck?" they never did have much of a filter, but thankfully their tone was quiet enough that it went relatively unnoticed. "people never cease to surprise me, i can't imagine my kid doing that and not even having the common decency to clean it up or at least let a worker know." he nods towards the chair across from her, hoping she won't mind if he occupies it. "um, do you mind if i...take that seat instead? unless you're waiting on someone."

[diana-goodwin]

@ caleb ashmore's residence

with @caleb-ashmore

Despite every one of Louise's shortcomings, the former southern beauty queen had instilled in her daughters the same southern manners she'd grown up with. Saying "yes sir" or "no ma'am" (although the ma'am hadn't stuck in a place like Michigan), the proper way to introduce people to family and friends, and being a good houseguest were just a few of the rules Louise had for her daughters. And as much as Diana was loath to admit it, they often were an asset in her adult life. Among these was the rule she still followed most often: never show up to someone's home empty-handed.

So when Caleb answered the door, Diana held the case of pale ale up that she'd purchased earlier and hauled across the neighborhood. If nothing else, sharing a car and not having her own was going to make for some killer calf muscles from all the walking she was doing. "Brought you a gift," she cracked, looking up at the man who had been an extension of Grace in her mind for the past ten years or more. "Thanks for letting me stop over. You busy?"

[diana-goodwin]

@ public espresso

open to anyone

It had taken all of three days for Diana to feel stir crazy in her childhood home, her mother hovering over her distracting her from the work she was supposed to be doing maintaining her client's website. So, desperate for a change of scenery and rationalizing that the break of policy was worth the potential loss of productivity, Diana had taken up a table at Public Espresso, buying several cups of coffee and settling into her work.

However, the arrival of another person in her immediate space shook her out of concentration that she'd built up over the past two hours, and she watched them for a moment before deciding to speak up. After all, she figured, she'd want someone else to do the same, wouldn't she?

"I wouldn't sit there if I were you," she warned, nodding over at a particularly comfortable looking chair. A kid peed his pants earlier and then immediately sat there. I mean," she paused, lifting a hand to show her indifference. "It's up to you, but ... maybe a table's better. There's an outlet next to my table, if you need to share?"

[diana-goodwin]

That, right there, was one of the differences between Grace and Diana. Grace tried to understand, to have empathy, to extend grace to the person who was objectively in the wrong. And to Diana, it didn't matter what the reasoning or motivation or backstory was -- the end result was still the same. Louise Goodwin being disappointed with her own life didn't change what misery she'd inflicted on Diana's. At least, that was her perception, and try as she might to understand Grace's, she could never see things through her sister's eyes. Before she could attempt to shove her foot in her mouth, the waiter came by to save the day, and she waited for her sister to order before requesting her own meal.

"Listen, I'm not worried about that. I know you've got me," she said, taking a slow sip of her drink. "I just .... who had your back the entire time I was gone?" It was as far as she would wade into the waters of her own abandonment of her family, although driven by a self-preservation instinct instead of malice.

"Graceface." Dian spoke almost sternly, leaning forward in her seat. "Of course I will be your bridesmaid. I will be arranging the strippers for your bachelorette party. You can't back out now, you put it out in the universe and there's no take backs." As she continued, her expression changed to one much more playful. "I will wear the ugliest dress imaginable if that's what you want. You know, since I'm so beautiful and will totally outshine everyone else," she teased, clearly joking.

"I'm--I wouldn't say I accept it," Grace offered, not sounding entirely convincing. "I think it's just -- it's easier for me to paint her as someone that's clearly suffering because it's...it makes it make sense. The hurt people hurt people thing." A small shrug as Grace went after a large hunk of tomato swimming in their salsa bowl. "I think if she was mean and I couldn't blame it on something, I'd go insane. You know?"

She offered a knowing look, hoping her appeal made sense. She wondered, then, if this is how Diana lived: knowing her mother knew better, and unable to explain why she never did better. As Grace went to speak again, then, the waiter approached, and she put in her order, allowing Diana to order the pitcher and ask for her own selections. They handed ff their menus, and Grace rested her arms on the table, crossed, her shoulders square. "I know it's hard," she offered, an attempt to soothe. "I think it's...well, no. I don't think it's going to get better. But. I think that our ability to deal with it can only get better if we stick together. Safety in numbers."

She eyed Diana, nodding once resolutely at her offer to confirm its acceptibility. "Yeah, that's perfect. You can just drop me in the morning and I can have Caleb come get me in the afternoon, even. We'll figure it out. The less prolonged exposure, the better." As her sister grew horrified at the vision of Grace's pretend dress, Grace's spirits to lift substantially, and her lips broke into a wide, beaming smile. "And tulle. Something real big, real poofy. Itchy, even." With a tinkling chuckle, she shook her head. "No. I will not do you wrong. Assuming you even want to do it, that is. Oh, God - you're gonna do it, right?"

[diana-goodwin]

"I think," Diana said slowly, finally attempting to put to words the ideas that had been percolating in her brain regarding their mother and the havoc she wreaked. "I think that ultimately .... that's her problem. And she made it ours." There was obviously more to it, more to the dynamic that Louise had created and Bobby had enabled, as one of her social worker friends had pointed out more than once. There was more to the parenting style she'd adopted that made Diana feel cornered and defensive when anyone questioned her. But that conversation would require peeling back several layers of her and Grace's shared history, and a Mexican restaurant didn't seem the right place to start.

"You don't have to accept her behavior just because she's, like, disappointed in her life choices, you know?" Diana couldn't help adding, shoving another chip in her mouth before she could say anything else.

Grace had a point about going stir crazy -- she'd barely settled in and already Diana was annoyed with Louise, could feel the grating irritation of having every step questioned by her mother. She let out a sigh and acquiesced. "Okay, you're probably right about that. I'll need to go to a hipster cafe where someone with an eyebrow piercing makes my coffee. Maybe I can drop you at school and do what I need while you're working?" Of course she'd pay for the gas she used, but at least Grace wouldn't be missing it. The mention of ruffles on a bridesmaid dress nearly made Diana choke, and her eyes bulged the slightest bit. "Oh, you hate me," she said, lacking malice. "That's why you want me to suffer."

"I think she's spent most of her life wanting to be anywhere and anyone else," Grace reasoned, attempting pragmatism. And anyone else's mother, she left out. "And when it hit her that she was stuck, she's made it our problem ever since."

Grace made a face, soured by the topic of conversation, although she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for their mother as they spoke of her. She was a terror more often than not, and they both knew it - but Grace often felt sympathy for the woman as of late; she was, it would seem, truly more alone than ever. But any attempts Grace made to connect with her were often shirked away, and most conversations ended in tears (usually Louise's, though Grace had gone home and cried after a few particularly rough nights in recent memory). Grace was too old to still aspire to her mother's love and acceptance, but she was never going to be too old to want to understand her.

"Oh, God, please - take it. You're going to go stir crazy if you don't. I'll just hitch a ride from Caleb, or I'll let you be my personal chauffer," Grace teased with a wide grin. "Besides, we are...a long way off from the cake flavor and invitation portion of it all, believe me." Grace felt awkward about the topic, but mostly because she was embarrassed by the idea that she had to have a wedding at all. She brightened suddenly, a realization hitting her: "Ohhh, I can't wait until I get to the part where I have to pick out your maid of honor dress. Lots of ruffles, I think. Maybe a bow."

[diana-goodwin]

i'm not mature enough for this!

a diana goodwin playlist

american teenager, ethel cain

who will save your soul, jewel

VBS, lucy dacus

turn it off, paramore

funeral, phoebe bridgers

hear you me, jimmy eat world

hymn, kesha

sorcerer, stevie nicks

reflecting light, sam phillips

space song, beach house

teenage dirtbag, wheatus

the way we get by, spoon

after midnight, chappell roan

church girl, beyonce

denial is a river, doechii

misbehavin', amy lee and baby billy

[diana-goodwin]

Grace's easy agreement to Diana's terms for splitting a pitcher of margaritas brought a grin to her face, knowing that as usual, things were likely to play out in her favor. Diana had felt torn over it, at times, over the past ten years -- how Grace was always willing to give Diana the lion's share of time and resources. But the small, greedy part of Diana that craved the kind of attention her sister gave to her always won out, and she never changed her behavior, reasoning that Grace would say something if it truly bothered her.

She snorted when Grace mentioned the snafu of bringing over the wrong ingredient to the house. Sure, you couldn't simply swap out heavy cream with half-and-half, but Diana could already envision the meltdown Louise went into, complete with hand wringing and blame laying squarely at her sister's feet. Never mind that her mother could have gotten the half-and-half herself, or that it was a favor that Grace more than likely went out of her way to do. "Yeah, that sounds about right," she acknowledged. "The way she acts, you'd think Louise has suffered more than Jesus. Not like she's the most stereotypical suburban mom you've ever met, or anything."

Grace's warning not to feel guilted into staying with their -- now evidently severely ill -- father and mother came as a surprise. Should Diana be considered the prodigal daughter, finally returning? Shouldn't she pay her dues, stick around for the passive aggressive comments from Louise and pretend not to listen? Didn't she deserve some sort of penance? She stared blankly at Grace for a moment, unsure of what to say to the daughter who had taken every burden on herself. "I -- thanks," she answered finally. "I mean, I'm mostly remote anyway, but I don't know how the Uber game is here. And it's not like the neighborhood is walkable, unless you count walking to another fancy house. What're you going to do without a car, though? Don't you have invitations to pick out and cake flavors to taste?" she asked, gesturing toward the ring on Grace's left hand.

"I will consent to seventy-thirty," Grace reasoned, knowing it would likely end up becoming ninety-ten and being completely fine with it - after Diana's week, Grace knew she needed all the reinforcement she could get. Grace had had time to adjust to her father's condition and, more importantly, the impact it seemed to be having on their mother. Already a hysterical woman, Louise somehow seemed more untethered than usual, moving between fits of rage and grief at dizzying speeds - often, Grace entered her childhood for the day not knowing what awaited her. But she knew that at the end of the day she could return to a safe space. Diana didn't have that luxury. It surprised Grace, then, that she didn't seem to want it.

"Honey, everything's going to piss mom off," Grace reasoned with her sister. "I brought over heavy cream instead of half and half by mistake last week and she went fully nuclear." Grace munched on a chip casually as she thought about the event, of Louise locking herself in her bedroom. She swallowed and sighed. "Just -- don't let yourself get guilted into staying." The hypocrisy of the imploration felt suddenly particularly poignant, and Grace felt awkward. She reached for another chip quickly, eager to change the subject. "I was thinking, too, if you need - you're welcome to use my car. I mean, I can carpool to work, and Caleb has the truck, so it's not like it's a big deal to be down a car for a bit for me."

[diana-goodwin]

She took a sip of the complimentary water they'd been given before responding. "Okay, but we're splitting it 60-40," she said, pointing at Grace with a chip to punctuate her statement. "Actually, one of us is driving home. So maybe 70-30." Diana might be a mess at times, but she wasn't stupid. Having watered down drinks at the neighborhood Mexican restaurant was a poor substitute for the visit that Grace had promised a dozen times over down to Asheville, but getting to spend time together at all was enough of a gift that Diana wasn't going to feel sorry for herself over it. "No ice cream in February? Color me surprised," she added, the eye roll not included but implied.

At Grace's reminder that she was welcome to stay with her and Caleb, Grace raised an eyebrow, considering the offer for the briefest of moments before disregarding it. "No stuffies? What is this, a dictatorship?" she asked, a corner of her mouth quirked upward at her own joke. "No, I -- that's nice of you, really. And Caleb didn't have to do all that work. But I think if I left it would piss Mom off even more, and honestly .... I don't want to fight that battle." Diana let out a small sigh and looked at Grace. "You know what I mean? I'm sure there's going to be other ones, might as well let this one go."

Surely it was a sign of maturity that she was actually considering the feelings of Louise Goodwin, for once. A cause for celebration, indeed.

"A pitcher, probably," Grace replied drolly, her mouth just slightly filled. She finished swallowing then, and went for another chip. "The ice cream place isn't open for like another two weeks, so we might as well fill up on dinner." This had become something of a tradition between the girls, especially as Diana was growing up - a weekend date night, a way to connect in the midst of...everything. When Diana went away to college, Grace found she mourned her absence. Now, it felt like they had so much time to make up for - Grace frequently promised to make it out to visit Diana, but she rarely had time to take a nap most days let alone a vacation. She didn't bother to feel bothered by this anymore; the life she should have been having and the life she did had split long ago, lines running parallel to one another.

"You know, I know I told you when I picked you up, but I just wanna make sure we're, like, a hundred percent clear - you can absolutely come stay with me. We - well, Caleb rearranged the office and set up some space for you." Grace raised her eyebrows as if to illustrate how tempting the invitation was. "Granted you can't sleep in the same room as your 300 stuffies from middle school, but we can probably just migrate some of them over."

[diana-goodwin]

Diana only half-listened to Grace as she settled into the vinyl seating of the restaurant booth, leaning back and feeling the cushion give way beneath her. There was something comforting about the fact that these seats and tables were old -- so much had changed since the last time she'd been in town that it was hard to feel at home. Empty lots were now sites of bespoke donut shops. The old mechanic's place was a micro brewery. The playground by the family home had replaced its equipment, although that was probably for the best. She still remembered the way the metal slide had felt scorching hot on the back of her legs on summer days.

But thinking about how Ann Arbor had changed was much easier than considering how much her own father had changed. The stalwart head of the Goodwin clan now lay reclining in their family home, more often than not without the strength to get up and wrap her in a hug like he'd done when she was small. The man who now needed reminders and assistance to eat was a far cry from the man who spoke passionately about living a good Christian life at the preacher's pulpit. And every time Diana looked over at him, she was confronted with two distinct questions.

Why hadn't Grace told her how bad a shape he was in?

Would it have changed anything if she had?

Unthinkingly, Diana mirrored her sister's actions and scooped an irresponsible amount of salsa onto her chip before shoving it into her mouth. "Maybe a chimichanga. Maybe I'll get a little funky and get the arroz con pollo. The night is young, right?" She paused, and looked back down at the laminated menu. "Should we get margaritas or what?"

@diana-goodwin Tito's Taqueria

The ride back from the airport had been filled with amiable chatter, the excitement of reunification with one another momentarily blurring the true reason behind said reunion between the Goodwin girls. But soon enough, the looming reality began to dawn on them - and if it hadn't, Diana finally seeing their father after a considerable amount of time away certainly drove the point home. Bobby Goodwin had always been larger than life, and Grace had learned to largely ignore how absurdly small he seemed lying in the hospital bed that occupied her parents' master bedroom. Diana hadn't been afforded that same luxury, however; she'd not come face to face with their dad in some time, certainlty not since the pneumonia last fall that set him so far back, and not since the addition of the feeding tube and oxygen mask.

A couple of hours in the Goodwin house, sharing oxygen with their mother, was enough to fray the nerves; it'd been two days that Diana had been back home, and Grace knew that she had to be feeling it. She wasn't surprised, then, when Diana jumped at her invittion to grab dinner. The restaurant was bustling - it was Saturday night, and a popular haunt - but they managed to snag a table relatively quickly. A round of margaritas ordered, a bowl of chips and salsa between them, and Grace felt earnestly emotional, not realizing how much she'd almost longed for Diana's presence until they shared the same physical space.

"What are you gonna get?" She implored, reaching for a chip. A quick dip in the salsa and a huge bite - she was ravenous, she suddenly realized - and she trained her eyes back on the menu. "I'm thinking the shrimp tacos."

[diana-goodwin]

SAOIRSE RONAN Photographed by Jérôme Bonnet for Télérama