Before I Forget by Tory Henwood Hoen - 51

The following morning, I wake to the smell of coffee and a quiet house. When I get downstairs, I find Nina out on the porch with Anders.

“I didn’t know you two were up,” I say, stepping outside. It’s a shimmering autumn morning, and warm enough to be outside in just a sweater or, in my case, a tattered bathrobe.

“Oh, we’re always up,” says Nina huskily as Anders nurses. “And we’re always sort of asleep. We live in a haze.”

“I’m amazed you even got yourself here,” I say. “It’s a long way to go with a two-month-old. Was Mom helpful?”

“As helpful as she can be,” says Nina. “As you know, our mother isn’t actually very maternal . No matter what Anders is fussing about, she tells me to rub whisky on his gums.”

“Spectacular advice,” I say.

Anders takes a few final gulps and then pushes Nina’s breast away with a dramatic flourish. He starts to grizzle and she instinctively rocks and shushes and pats him—no doubt things she has done hundreds of times in the two months since he was born. But his fussing increases.

“Want me to take him?” I ask. I barely know how to hold a newborn, but she looks like she could use a break. I pick Anders up gently, getting a feel for his floppy body as I support his head and pull him close to me. I’m scared by his fragility, but once I settle into my chair, his weight suddenly feels grounding. He quiets and stares at my face, transfixed.

“Look at that. You’re a natural.”

“I could hold him like this forever,” I say.

“Please do,” says Nina, closing her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Do you ever get a break? Is Nils pulling his weight?”

“Sort of. Sometimes. I don’t know.” Nina pauses. “Honestly, I think we may have rushed into things.”

I look at my sister, and for the first time, it occurs to me that she might not be superhuman.

“He’s a good guy. It’s just—we’re really different. And now that Anders is here, I’m clearer about what I want and need long-term. I just don’t know if Nils and I are all that compatible.”

“Whoa,” I say. “Are you breaking up?”

“Not yet. I don’t know. Maybe we just need a reset.” She turns to me and looks as if she is trying to remember something. “Have you ever done that? Taken a break from someone?”

I stare at her to see if she’s joking, but she looks back with genuine interest. I can’t believe she has forgotten that she played a central role in the chain of events that led to my rupture with Seth.

“Nina, it was your idea,” I say. “You said the best way to keep Seth interested was to break up with him.”

“What? That makes zero sense. I don’t think I would have said that.”

I feel rocked, as if the history I thought we all agreed on was now in question. Is she misremembering, or am I? “You said it worked because it was counterintuitive.”

“Really? Well, if I did, I was wrong. I wasn’t exactly a sage back then.”

I look at her again. She seems to have no idea that I’ve hung on her every word for the vast majority of my life. She is talking to me as if we are equals.

I could attempt to relitigate the past, but why? As I look at Nina, I do not see a fallen idol. I see a new mom who is exhausted but doing her best; I see a daughter who is grieving; I see a human who is trying to find her way, just like the rest of us. I see my sister, in all of her dimensions, and I love her more than ever.

A lazy wind sweeps through the trees, sending the flame-colored leaves flickering.

“I still can’t believe Dad’s gone,” says Nina. “When you came through the door earlier, I thought for a second that it would be him.”

“I know what you mean,” I say. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“I guess we should think about a funeral?” Nina looks at me as if I’m in charge.

“Yes. I don’t think Dad would want anything too fussy. And now that he’s kind of famous”—I glance over to see if this irks her, but she smiles and shakes her head, as if she has accepted my shenanigans long ago—“I think we should keep it low-key.”

“Totally agree.”

“Maybe we do a little ceremony down on the dock with just us, plus Carl, Paula, and Max.”

“Perfect,” says Nina, looking relieved that I’ve already thought it through. “Wait, who’s Max?”

I laugh, realizing just how much we have to catch up on. “I have a lot to tell you. But first, can you do me a favor?”

“Of course,” says Nina. “What is it?”

“Can you … cut my hair?”

That afternoon while Anders is napping, Nina and I haul a chair onto the lawn and set up a makeshift salon.

“You know I’ve never done this before, right?” says Nina, kitchen scissors in hand.

“It’s fine. It can’t look any worse than it already does.”

“No promises,” she says, as she parts my hair in the middle. “I’m just going to cut straight across, and then I’ll neaten it up after.”

As she circles me, taking careful snips, I fill her in on all the things we haven’t gotten to talk about yet: Max, my reunion with Chloe, my non-deal with Gemma.

“So, wait, Gemma bought the Seavey camp?!” Nina is riveted.

“No. It ended up selling to some people who seem reasonable, thank goodness,” I say. “But you’re not going to believe this…”

I open up Instagram and navigate to the Actualize page. I click on a video of Gemma spritzing mist onto her face and monologuing: “Mmmm, I can’t even explain how refreshing this is, you guys. If you’ve ever been to the Adirondacks, you know the water is exceptionally clear and clean. It’s got so many yummy minerals—your skin will just drink it right up. Okay so after I mist, I’m going to go ahead and take the Oracle Oil and just work it into the skin, all over my face and neck and décolletage…”

“What is this?” Nina asks.

I explain that a few weeks ago, I received a marketing email introducing Actualize’s newest product line: the Catwood Collection. Billed as “sacred skincare from the Source,” every product is infused with water from Catwood Pond. I pull up another video and hand my phone back to Nina so she can watch.

In this one, Gemma is in a white bathrobe at a marble sink, with six bottles laid out before her. “We distilled the essence of the Adirondacks into six core products, formulated to elevate the whole human vessel—body, mind, and spirit. Because wellness starts from within, we have the Catwood Tonic for gut health. Then we have our Truth Serum, a resurfacing solution that helps you bare your true face to the world. Then there is Future You, a full-body exfoliating scrub that sloughs off dead skin and regenerates new cells. Next, our Best Self Balm is a rich salve for anywhere you want that extra glow. Our Centering Spritz helps lock in both moisture and self-worth. And finally, our pièce de résistance: Oracle Oil. Infused with nutrient-rich Adirondack pine sap, this is the product that will supercharge not just your beauty routine—but your entire existential outlook.”

Nina starts to giggle, and then laugh, and before long, she can hardly breathe.

“I know,” I say. “Gemma can make a product out of anything—even pond water.”

“Should we order some?” Nina asks, wiping away tears.

“We can’t afford it!” I yelp, hysterical with laughter. When we finally calm down, Nina circles me once more, takes a few final snips with the scissors, and then hands me a mirror.

For a second, I do a double-take. I look like Nina, with my hair hitting just above my shoulders in a neat-looking long bob. The blond is gone, and my natural brown is warm and shiny in the sunlight. I peer into the mirror. It’s not exactly Nina who I look like, but it’s someone familiar. After a moment, I realize: I look like myself.