“Maybe I should say…settled, somehow?”She tips her head as she thinks.“Even though that doesn’t make sense, because you aren’t particularly physically settled right now.”
“Yeah.I think I get it, though.”I smile as the waiter comes up to take our orders, and I panic briefly as I realize I haven’t even looked at the menu, much less remembered that I’m here to eat.I quickly make a selection—veggie panini, side of chips—and focus on my sister again.
We haven’t done something like this in…god, I don’t even know how long.Potentially never.This might be the first deliberate adult meet-up of our lives.And I have no idea where to take things next.I open my mouth to speak without even knowing what’s going to come out.
“I’m sorry I said I wouldn’t be your maid of honor.”I swallow hard.Might as well get the worst over first.“I actually did want to, but I figured I wouldn’t meet your standards and you’d be disappointed in me.So I played it safe by saying no.”
Claire looks at me, stunned.She’s quiet for so long I feel the urge to either continue offering explanation just to fill the silence or crawl under the table and avoid this altogether.
I do neither.
“You thought I’d be disappointed in you as my maid of honor?”She sounds incredulous.“I mean…why do you think I asked you?”
“I thought you asked me out of obligation,” I admit, fiddling with the wrapped silverware at my place.“Don’t get me wrong, I was honored that you asked.But my first thought was terror, because I know how many times I’ve disappointed you and Mom and Dad.I just didn’t want this to be one more example of how I mess up your life.You already don’t let me forget about your graduation party, and that was over a decade ago.You think I wanted to chance ruining your wedding?”
Claire visibly deflates.Her gaze moves across the restaurant, and I can tell she’s processing.
“You’re my little sister.Asking you to be my maid of honor wasn’t a set-up for you to fail,” she finally says.
“I know.I just—”
The waiter arrives, and I freeze mid-thought, smiling up at him in a way that is socially acceptable and keeps the thought at the tip of my tongue.He drops off my water and then flits away.
“I think the only way I can explain it is…sometimes it’s easier to not try at all than to try and mess up.”
Claire furrows her brows.“Why do you think you always mess up?”
I blink at her like she suddenly started speaking a foreign language.“Because I do.That’s why you always call me Spacey Casey.”
Claire studies me in an intense way, almost like I’m a legal brief she’s assessing.She looks out the window at Briggs Bay, where the midday sun is hitting the water just right to cast the occasional shimmer onto the ceiling of Hi-5s.
“I think you’re unreliable,” she finally says.“I know that sounds bad, but you asked.”
I nod.It stings, but not in the way I expected.This feels more like a Band-Aid being ripped off.It hurts, but it’s part of the healing.
“Have you messed up?Sure.We all have,” she adds.“But you’d always say you were coming to something and then not show.Or show up late and breeze through.Or change plans.Or just…not follow through.And then you'd act like it was no big deal.”Claire shrugs, sipping her water.“It always seemed like we didn't matter that much."
More Band-Aids ripping.More grinning and bearing it because there’s something big around the corner, I can feel it.
“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” I say.“It’s so far from what I intended.All I've ever cared about is pleasing you guys.Trying to prove that I'm not the hot mess you must think I am."I pause, laughing softly."But trying to prove that meant I stopped showing up in places where I felt like a mess.Which was home.”
“Little bit of a catch-22,” she concedes.
“It’s been like this for years,” I say, feeling something unlock deep inside me.“I didn't show up to Christmas the year after college because I got a parking ticket, and I took it as a sign that everything would go wrong.So I cancelled the plans last minute and missed my flight.”I begin ticking off the moments on my fingers."I didn't go to Dad's birthday dinner last year because I was convinced you'd all see right through me and know my Chicago life was falling apart.I said no to being your maid of honor because I need both hands and both feet to count how many times I’ve disappointed you in the past decade and I couldn’t bear to add one more.I've been hiding, Claire.Not breezing."
She watches me with an expression I’ve never seen on her face before.“I didn’t know any of that.”
“I know.I never told anyone.I only started talking about it once I got the idea that maybe I…you know, have ADHD or something.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“I think my brain has always worked a bit differently,” I say slowly.I’m still getting used to this whole idea, but it feels good to say it.“I never had the right framework to understand the differences, so I just became “Spacey Casey” or “Chaotic Casey” instead.And that was that.”
The waiter appears with our food.The temporary distraction is welcome—I profusely thank him for the food and attention and take a deep breath.
After he leaves, Claire is staring down at her salad.
“So you’re seeing someone?”
