Page 6 of What They Say

Kath hesitated in the doorway, then moved to the cabinet for her own mug. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

“Morning,” Kath finally said, keeping her voice neutral.

Maudie gave a short nod. “You get any sleep?”

“Not really.”

Another beat of silence. Maudie’s spoon clinked against the side of her mug. Once. Twice. She didn’t look up.

Kath poured coffee, the rich smell doing nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. She could feel her sister’s questions hovering in the air like smoke—heavy, unspoken, and aimed straight at last night.

Maudie cleared her throat. “Tony...he was pretty messed up when he got home.”

There it was. Not quite a question, but close enough. Kath waited, gripping her mug tighter. She knew her sister had seen at least part of it—the yelling, the way Tony had grabbed her arm too hard before Maudie had stepped in. But Maudie wasn’t asking outright. She never did.

Right now she’d ignore the “home” aspect of what Maudie said. He didn’t live here, and if she had anything to do with it, he never would. “Yeah,” Kath said carefully. “He was.”

Maudie’s eyes flicked up for half a second, then dropped back to her coffee. “He didn’t...do anything else? After I went to bed?”

The words hung there, loaded. Kath could hear everything her sister wasn’t saying: Tell me it wasn’t worse. Tell me I don’t have to deal with this. Tell me you’re okay so I don’t have to feel guilty for staying with him.

Kath swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. “No. He passed out on the couch.” She’d seen him when she came out to get another bottle of water a few hours ago. She tipped her chin towards the couch. “Snores say he’s still there.”

Maudie nodded once, too quickly. Relief flickered across her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She knew. She always knew when Kath was holding back pieces of the truth, just like Kath knew when Maudie was choosing not to push.

“Good,” Maudie muttered. She dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink and rinsed the mug with sharp, efficient movements. “I’ve got a double shift today. Try to stay out of his way when he wakes up, yeah?”

Kath stared at her sister’s back. That’s it? she wanted to scream. That’s all you’re going to say?

But she didn’t. Because Maudie wasn’t going to meet her in the middle. She never did. Not when it came to Tony. Not when it came to any of the hard stuff. Awareness sat between them like a third person in the room. The feeling was heavy, acknowledged by both and then carefully ignored.

“Sure,” Kath said quietly. “I’ll stay out of his way.”

Maudie grabbed her keys off the counter and paused at the doorway, almost looking back. Almost.

Then she was gone without another word, the screen door banging shut behind her.

Kath stood alone in the quiet kitchen, coffee growing cold in her hands, wondering how long they could keep dancing around the truth before something finally broke.

***

That evening, after Maudie had come home exhausted from her double shift and as they’d both picked at leftover pizza in awkward silence, something shifted. Maudie suddenly stood, went to the hall closet, and pulled out an old shoebox.

“Remember these?” she asked, setting it on the table.

Kath opened it. Inside were faded photos: the four of them at the park when Kath was six, Mom pushing her on the swings while Maudie made silly faces. It had been so long since she’d seen a picture of him, it took her a minute to recognize her father. Another photo of Mom baking cookies, flour on her nose, all three of them laughing.

For a few minutes, they flipped through the pictures quietly, shoulders touching.

“She wasn’t always like this,” Maudie said softly. “Before Dad left...she tried. She really tried.”

Kath nodded, throat tight. “I remember her singing in the kitchen. Badly. But we’d dance anyway.”

Maudie gave a watery smile. “Yeah. Those were the good days.”

They stayed like that for a while, letting the memories sit between them, the emotions bittersweet but oh so real. It didn’t fix anything. But for once, it felt like they were on the same side.

***