The light changed and we marched through the crosswalk.
“But now you have to tell me something about you guys together. To make up for keeping the secret from me.”
I'd known this was coming, but I was still getting used to the idea of sharing this secret. It was going to have to come out in a trickle at first. “One of his songs is about me.”
She came to a dead stop and socked me in the arm. “Shut up. Which one?”
I laughed, for real this time, finally succumbing to the cold and putting on my coat. “Do you knowSunny Girl?He didn't play it tonight.” I was relieved he hadn't. A few tears were one thing. That song might end with me in a puddle of my own emotion.
“Straw blonde hair and a smile that never dies?That's supposed to be you?”
Everything that had been funny a moment ago was now heavy with irony. Of course my sister didn't see me asSunny Girl. No one but Eamon ever had. “Believe it or not, yes.”
“Wow.” She shook her head. “My sister isSunny Girl.”
“Yeah, well,Gloom and Doom Girldoesn't have the same ring to it.”
“Funny. That's funny. I feel like I'm seeing you in a whole new light.”
“I was different with Eamon. I don't know how else to say it.”
She nodded. We slowed our pace, even though it was cold. It was like neither one of us wanted the night to end, which was a little silly since we lived together, but I didn't say anything. I knew she'd text Luke the minute we got home and that would be the end of the conversation.
“Didn't you feel different when you left home and went to college?” I asked. “I know I did.”
Going off to school had been a difficult decision for me. I'd spent eight years taking care of my dad and sister. It made me feel guilty to leave and not just because I wouldn't be there to make dinner or do the laundry. The truth was that I'd formulated my escape, starting the day the high school guidance counselor spoke to us about planning for college. She gave a talk about good grades, scholarships, and study abroad. She spoke of independence and getting away. That was all I'd needed to hear. From that moment, I hit the books, but never told a soul why I was studying so hard. There was no money to send me to college. If I wanted out, and I had, I knew I was going to have to work my way there.
“Yeah. I felt different,” Amy said. “It was nice to be out of Chester, that's for sure.”
“Exactly. I was just glad I didn't have to be one of the poor Fuller girls anymore. I could just be Katherine Fuller, Co-ed.”
“Or Katherine Fuller, rock star groupie.”
“He wasn't a rock star then. Not even close.”
“That's hard to imagine.”
“Seriously. We had no money. He worked part time as a carpenter just so he could pay for his flat, but otherwise he spent all of his time writing music and trying to get a record deal.”
We walked for nearly an entire cross-town block in silence before she asked the question, “He doesn't know, does he?”
Amy didn't have to say that she was talking about Mom and the accident. “No. He doesn’t.” I was in high school when I’d stopped telling anyone about it. I couldn’t keep reliving it, and everyone always wanted the gruesome details.
“Yeah. I still haven't told Luke. There's never a good time to bring it up.”
I could relate, although with Eamon, it'd been a case of not wanting to ruin something perfect. Being with him was like waking up each morning to a blanket of fresh snow on the ground. A single footstep would destroy all that beauty.
“Right. There's never a good time.” Another convenient excuse was that Eamon and I had spent such a huge percentage of our time together making love. And fucking. Those were two separate activities with him, which was part of the allure. Sometimes he'd seduce me for an entire day, with sweet smiles and soft kisses at the corner of my mouth. After hours of getting me worked up, he'd take my hand and lead me to his bedroom. A master of the slow burn, he'd caress my stomach, glaze his mouth over my breasts, and take strokes that were slow and deep, all while he burrowed into my soul with his gaze.
Then there were times when we'd be mid-conversation, making dinner or at the pub for a pint, and he'd wrap his arms around my waist and tell me he wanted me so bad he couldn't think straight. He fucked me on the kitchen table. Two or three times. We did it in a pub bathroom once, standing, while he held the door closed with his hand. There was no explaining the physics we'd used to make it happen.
“Oh. We're on Madison,” Amy said when we got to the corner. "Let's walk this way. I want to show you something in the Vera Wang window."
“That's out of our way. Can we do it this weekend, during the day, when it’s not so cold?”
Amy started across the street. “It'll take five minutes. Come on.”
I did my sisterly duty and followed, but I wasn't thrilled with the change in subject. Everything these days circled back to the wedding.
