Page 27 of Hale Yeah, It’s You
When I reach the front door, I hesitate. Technically, I still live here. I haven’t even told Clay about the rental or my plans yet. But my hand hovers above the doorknob, as if the metal might burn me if I touch it.
A car door slams behind me, and I’m temporarily saved from my own hesitation.
“Hey, Keke!” Alayna bounces up the driveway, my parents waving from their truck as it pulls away. She looks adorable in her flared jeans and oversized pink hoodie. “GG and Pops said to tell you they love you.”
“GG and Pops?” I laugh. “Since when do you call them that?”
“Since I said it once as a joke and Grandma laughed so hard milk came out of her nose. It’s not exactly lively over there—I’ve got to bring the comedy show, you know?”
She takes a bow, and I swat at her arm, grinning. “You’re too much sometimes. I love it. They do too.”
She scrunches her nose at me and gives me a suspicious look. “What are you doing out here? ”
“I just got here. I was with Sarah.”
“Ooh, I love Sarah. Is she inside?” Alayna doesn’t wait for me to answer. She steps around me and bursts through the front door, her backpack thumping against her back. I follow quietly. Her enthusiasm is a sharp contrast to the weight in my chest.
“I’m home!”
Clay is standing in the kitchen doorway.
The rich smell of beef stew wraps around us—Alayna’s favorite.
Our eyes meet. He greets his daughter warmly, but there’s tension in his posture when he looks at me.
I haven’t replied to his texts. I didn’t know how.
Some things are too big for screens. They need tone, eye contact, the space between words.
And Sunday nights are family dinner nights. I’m not heartless. This is my family—even if things are shifting. They deserve to hear it from my mouth.
“Is dinner ready?” Alayna’s practically drooling.
“You just came from GG and Pops’ house. There’s no way you’re starving.”
Alayna doubles over in laughter, clutching her stomach. Clay throws his hands up.
“Do I even want to know?”
“It’s not that deep, Dad,” she says between giggles, her cheeks pink.
“Lucky for you, little lady, dinner is ready. Go set the table.”
She groans dramatically but drops her backpack and heads toward the kitchen. Clay approaches me, eyes shadowed, hair a mess. He looks like I feel—wrecked.
“Are you having dinner with us?”
“Of course,” I say. “I need to change, but I’ll be quick.”
He nods, but as I start to walk past, his hand gently catches my arm.
“Are we okay? You didn’t answer my texts, and I wasn’t sure…”
A knot tightens in my throat. Are we okay? No. Not yet. Maybe not ever in the way that he means .
“We’ll talk after dinner, alright?”
He sighs, lets go. I think I see something flicker in his eyes—something like hope—but it’s bruised and tentative.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll help Alayna with the table.”
I rush upstairs, change into green joggers and a white T-shirt. If I’m going to tear my life apart, I might as well be comfortable. I stare into the mirror for a long moment, whispering all the reasons this is right. This is necessary. Then I take a breath and head back downstairs.
Dinner is quiet. Alayna’s halfway through her second helping. Clay pushes food around his plate like it personally wronged him. I try to memorize the warmth of this house, the soft clinking of silverware, the familiar hum of family—because it might be a while before I get invited back.
Alayna chatters about her weekend with my parents, about Grandpa teaching her how to fix up the old Toyota. I smile, even as I ache. It’s good that she’s bonding with them. Good for all of us. Especially if Clay doesn’t want me around after tonight.
“That rusty truck?” Clay shakes his head. “We’ll find you something newer and safer. And maybe your grandpa can show you how to change oil or something less… advanced.”
Alayna rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, Dad.”
“Maybe get a job before worrying about your license,” he adds.
“What did you two do this weekend?” Alayna is quick to pivot.
Clay shrugs. “Boring adult stuff.”
“Keke said Sarah’s in town. What’d you really do?”
Clay shoots me a panicked look. I shake my head slightly.
“Actually… I wanted to talk to you both about why Sarah is in town.” I set down my fork, heart pounding.
Two pairs of eyes lock on me.
“Is she moving back?” Alayna asks, dropping her bread. “She can share my room if she wants! ”
I smile sadly. “No, she’s visiting. We found a place to rent, but not for Sarah. I’m the one who’s moving.”
Clay’s glass tips over with a clatter. I grab my napkin, blot the water, but my hands are shaking.
“It’s time,” I say. “I love being here, love being part of this family, but I need my own space. I’m not going far. Nothing has to change, really.”
Alayna grabs my hands. Her eyes are wet. “You don’t have to move out to have your own life. What about driving me to school? What if I need you? What about Dad?”
Clay is still as a statue, face drained of color.
“I’ll still be around. You’ll have your own room at my place. I’ll pick you up, we’ll do dinners—”
“But why leave?” she whispers. “It won’t be the same.”
“Can we have a minute, kiddo?” Clay’s voice cracks.
Alayna’s hands slip from mine. Her lip trembles. The heartbreak on her face is cutting me to shreds. “How can you just leave us?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Frankie, let her go,” Clay says, voice harder now.
The sound of her running, the slam of her door—it echoes through me. I’m gutted.
Silence presses in like a weighted blanket. I can’t breathe.
“So one bad night and you’re running?” Clay finally says, rubbing his jaw. “Is this because I pushed too fast?”
“Clay,” I whisper. “Can I ask you something?”
He nods.
“When I first moved in, we were both grieving. For me, it’s softened over time. But for you… it's still raw, isn’t it?”
His jaw clenches. “Is this about me calling you Tasha?”
“If she walked through that door, if you had a chance to have her back… would you take it?”
His arms cross, defensive. His breathing speeds.
“Of course I would. I hate how she left us, but she’s Alayna’s mother. She gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever known. But that’s not reality, Frankie. She’s not coming back.”
“I know. And I don’t want to be her. But I also don’t want to be her replacement . I know you wanted more with me. For a while, I thought maybe I wanted that too. But I can’t do it.”
He stares at me, stunned.
“I don’t think you see me , Clay. Not really. Not when she’s still living in every corner of your heart.”
“I don’t need you to be her. I just want you .”
“But I don’t think that’s true,” I say, arms folded tightly around myself. “We’ve been playing house for so long, maybe we forgot it wasn’t real. I don’t want to be what’s convenient. I want to be chosen.”
He pushes back his chair with a screech. “Playing house? Is that what you think we’re doing here? So this—this whole life—meant nothing to you?”
“That’s not fair. I love you. And I love Alayna. But I need more than this. I need to be loved like you loved her . This thing between us, it’s not—”
“Not what? Not enough? You keep saying you need more, Frankie. But now I’m offering you more and you’re rejecting it.” Clay’s face is heated, even his neck has gone blotchy and red. I hate that I’m hurting him, but I have to be honest.
“I need you to understand what I’m telling you. We both deserve to be loved for who we are, fully, completely. No ghosts in between. I’m not trying to hurt you, but it’s not me that you want.”
“Oh, I understand, I just don’t agree with you.” Clay’s voice is louder now, desperate.
A fat tear slides down my face before falling off the end of my nose.
I’m angry; I don’t want things to end this way, but I can’t seem to get us back on the rails.
I wanted this to be a gentle goodbye, and now it’s like I just threw a bowling ball into a glass cabinet that holds every fragile piece of our life together .
“I’m not abandoning you, Clay. I still want to be a part of this family, always. But it’s time for me to have my own life too.”
He stands. “Then go. Just go.”
My hands tremble. I take a step back from the table.
The table where we’ve shared thousands of meals.
Where we’ve celebrated birthdays, cried over homework, laughed together until our stomachs hurt.
The scars in its wooden surface all have memories attached to them, and even this memory will be etched into its history now.
If I could see the surface of my own heart, I imagine it would look like this table.
All the scars of my life, the highs and the lows, tattooed into the tissue.
And now I've left this mark on all of us.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.
He turns his back, heading for his own room. “Not your problem anymore.”
The door slams after him and I flinch. They’re upset now. But maybe, one day, they’ll understand.
In a final act of love, I clean up our dinner mess. I save the leftovers for Alayna to have later. I move through the motions like a ghost.
Four boxes. Two suitcases. Eleven years, packed tight.
It’s a stark reminder that I haven’t taken up any of my own space in a very long time.
How is this all I have to show for a lifetime of living?
Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped living my own life and existed only to care for my family.
I don’t regret the years behind me, but it’s a helpful reminder that I’m doing the right thing now.
Once I’ve loaded my car, I do one final sweep of the house, letting my hands trail over every surface, drowning myself in the memories.
Even though I know what I’m doing is right, that it’s time for me to leave this chapter and start a fresh one, I can’t help but wish it had gone down easier. Gentler.
My heart is in my throat as I turn off the lights in my room one last time.
I’m leaving this house, but I wish Alayna would talk to me, so that I could assure her that I’m not leaving her.
Walking out without hugging her, telling her I love her face to face is wrong.
I need her to know this isn’t goodbye. I’m not my sister.
I knock on her door. “Alayna? I’m heading out, but I’d like to talk to you first if you’ll let me.”
The door vibrates with a heavy thud, as if she’s thrown something at it. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”
I rub the sore spot on my chest as I lean my forehead against the cool wood. “I love you. Call me when you’re ready to talk, I’m only a few minutes away.”
Music blares through the door and I know I’m not going to get through to her tonight.
If they need time, I can give them that.