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“Yeah. I’m good.”
My tendency is never to talk. I bury things down until there’s no space left. Even then, I don’t talk. I punch or I yell or I drink until the ugliness is expelled.
I lean my head back against the wall and stare at the mint green one across from me, resenting whatever coincidence landed me in the same place at the same time as my mother. Mark’s allergy. Her illness. My need to pee.
My mom is dying.
And I wish I didn’t know.
* * *
Music is blaring from the condo when I reach the entrance, audible even through the closed door. I exhale before fishing my keys out of my pocket. Catherine must be home.
I haven’t seen her since I got back from camp.
I’m grateful to her for stepping up after our dad died. For taking in Sydney and Lily. I wouldn’t have gone to college otherwise.
But it’s an awkward dynamic. She’s a full decade younger than he was, meaning she’s closer to my age. Not much of an authority figure. The only reasons she stuck around after Sydney graduated high school had nothing to do with us.
And I’m in a crappy mood already. Predictably, it took a while at the hospital for Mark to get the all-clear. Then I had to drive everyone back to the court to get their cars.
I unlock the door and step inside the condo. The front hallway leads right into the kitchen. All the lights are on, but the room is empty. I follow the music to the right and toward the living room, pausing in the doorway.
There’s no sign of Catherine.
My little sister and my girlfriend are the ones dancing and jumping around and singing at the top of their lungs.
Sydney looks the same as she did when I saw her in May. She came back to Pembrooke for a week before returning to New York for a summer theater program at her school. She’s smiling widely, her long hair pulled up in a ponytail that bounces around as she tosses her head around.
Cassia’s eyes are closed, her arms raised over her head as she sways in place.
The song blaring sounds familiar, but I don’t know any of the words. They’re hard to hear. Cassia and Sydney are singing loudly enough to drown out the original artist’s voice.
Cassia spins around to face Sydney. Then they’re moving again. This portion must be choreographed because they’re in perfect sync as they shimmy and twirl their way across the fluffy rug that covers the floor.
The song ends.
“Killed it!” Sydney exclaims. “Once more with…” She spots me and her voice trails.
Cassia glances over, stilling when she sees me.
“We didn’t hear you come in,” Sydney says.
“Shocking,” I drawl. “It’s so quiet in here.”
Sydney rolls her eyes. “I’m going to grab some water.”
“Nice to see you too, sis,” I call after her as she heads toward the kitchen.
Cassia attempts to fix her hair as she walks toward me. Half of it is falling down again by the time she reaches me.
“How was the court?” she asks.
“Eventful. Mark sat on a bee, and it stung him.”
“Poor bee.”
I roll my eyes. “Poor Mark. He’s allergic.”
