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CASSIA
I’m changing into my pajamas when my mom calls. I hobble over to the door with one leg in the cotton shorts and one leg out, carefully closing my bedroom door. Sydney is in the kitchen, making cookies out of the dough we bought at the store earlier.
Placing them on the sheet and putting them in the oven, basically. We used to make homemade ones when we were younger, and they always turned out terrible.
She’s probably out there wondering why I shut my door.
But I haven’t told Sydney my parents are getting divorced.
Haven’t told anyone, except Holden.
According to my mother, the list of people who know are me, my grandmother, and whoever the ambiguous work colleagues my dad talks to about his personal life are.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, leaning down to pull the other side of my shorts up.
“Hi, sweetheart. I just wanted to call and check in. How’s everything going?”
“Uh, good. It’s nice to be back.”
“The apartment is nice?”
“Yeah, it’s great.”
Only half-unpacked, but nice. It’s my mess in Pembrooke, just transplanted to a new location.
Proof running escapes nothing, maybe.
There’s a prolonged pause as we both deliberate what else to say.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Her answer is quick.Tooquick.
“Mom…”
“Don’t worry about me, honey. Everything here is fine. Busy, like usual.”
“Did you tell Maggie about the divorce before she left for college?” I ask.
“Cassia, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
I exhale, the huff saturated with annoyance I feel guilty aiming at my mom.
Nothing I need to concern myself with, which affects my entire family. Which affects me.
She’s trying to protect me, I know.
To shield me from the ugliness of what I always viewed as a perfect relationship. An ideal marriage. A happy ending.
“Classes start tomorrow, right?” Her cheerfulness is deliberate. Forced.
I can hear the twins arguing in the background.
My mom is trying to hold everything together. I’m not going to be the one who tugs at the stray thread.
“Right. I got all my textbooks earlier. My Genetics one is about a billion pages. A little intimidating.”
My mom laughs. “You can handle it, honey. You always do well.”
