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Ken looks at me with wide eyes. “Are you seriously thinking Cathy is capable of murder?”
“It’s manslaughter, not murder,” I correct her this time. “Which means it was accidental.”
Ken puts a hand on her hip. “So you think Cathy accidentally killed your sister?”
“I’m just saying I don’t know what really happened.”
“You know Cathy,” Ken points out. “You know her better than I do. You knew her even before all this shit happened and you got to know her even more these past few weeks. That’s why you fell in love with her.”
I say nothing.
Ken shakes her head. “If after all that, you think she could kill someone, then maybe you shouldn’t be with her.”
I sigh. “Well, she doesn’t want to be with me anyway.”
To my surprise, Ken grips the front of my shirt. “Stop it, Jackson. Stop wallowing in self-pity and act like a man. So what if your relationship with Cathy doesn’t have a label? That doesn’t mean you don’t have one. So what if she hurt your feelings? This isn’t about you. Right now, Cathy needs you. The woman you love needs you, and if you don’t make an effort to be there for her, if you let her feel alone at a time like this, you’re going to regret it. You can feel sorry for yourself all you want then. The question is: Do you really want to?”
I don’t answer.
Ken lets out a deep breath as she lets go of my shirt. “Sorry about that, boss. I guess I just got… carried away.”
“It’s okay.” I smooth the front of my shirt. “I understand what you’re talking about, but should I really do anything for Cathy if she asked me to leave her alone? Isn’t that just me meddling, making things harder for her?”
“If you love her, yes,” Ken answers. “And no, it’s not meddling. Meddling is when you try to interfere with the affairs of strangers. When it comes to the things that concern the people you care about, then it’s just… caring. How is that going to make things harder?”
I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m thinking of it. Maybe I’m not thinking clearly. Maybe it’s my wounded pride talking. But Ken’s right. This isn’t about me.
“Hey.” Ken places a hand on my arm. “I know with Evelyn, you didn’t do anything, not just because she asked you not to but because you couldn’t do anything. But this time, with Cathy, you can. You can do something for her. You can help her.”
I look at Ken. Again, I realize she’s right. There was nothing I could do to keep myself from losing Evelyn. I was helpless. But that’s not the case with Cathy. It’s not too late. Or so I hope.
“What should I do?” I ask her.
“You should figure that out, silly.” Ken pats my arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you will.”
~
I’m still trying to think of what I can and should do as I watch Maisie sleep on her bed.
Thank goodness she’s sleeping peacefully.
Two nights ago, she woke up with a nightmare, screaming for Cathy. And when there was no Cathy to comfort her, she became even more upset, crying for nearly half an hour before she was able to go back to sleep. Even during the day, I can tell she misses Cathy. She keeps asking about her. She keeps asking where Cathy is and when she’ll come back, and whenever I tell her I don’t know, the corners of her little mouth droop.
How can Cathy say she doesn’t belong in Maisie’s life when Maisie loves her so much?
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I whisper as I stroke Maisie’s hair softly. “I promise I’ll bring Cathy back.”
She told me to give up on her for Maisie’s sake, but it’s precisely for that reason that I’m not going to.
“I’ll find a way to bring her back.”
Just then, Maisie stirs. She stretches one arm and tries to kick off her blanket. For a moment, I fear she might open her eyes, but she doesn’t. She just turns on her side and throws her leg over a pillow, then tucks her hand beneath her cheek.
I smile. What is it about kids that they can’t keep their blankets on or stay still while they sleep?
There’s something endearing about it, though, and I can’t help but plant a kiss on the top of Maisie’s head after putting the blanket back on her. As I do, I catch a glimpse of something shiny peeking from beneath her pillow.
I pull it out and hear a clink as the charms of the bracelet jingle.
Cathy’s bracelet. The one Trisha gave her.
I place it on my palm. As I run my fingers over the charms one by one, I remember the times I watched Cathy and Trisha together and another smile forms on my lips. They really were best friends. You could tell from just one look. They were different, sure, but they got along perfectly. Why, they only fought once as far as I can remember. They brought out the best in each other. They cared so much for each other. Why, they’d even risk their lives for each other.
