Realizing how wrong that was.
And how much it hurt.
She stepped closer, struggling to take a full breath, smelling the butterscotch of Cat’s hair, feeling their closeness and their distance at the same time. She then looked at her sister. Really looked. At those bangs growing longer, now perfectly framing her face. At her khaki skirt and black shirt and the ease with which she wore them, not trying to be something other than who she was, doing what she loved. What she was good at. And Angeline had mocked her for all of it.
The pain in Angeline’s chest seared deeper.
Made her dizzy.
Made her remember.
Fraidy Cat.
That joke. Her joke. Something said in the moment, without thinking of anything but making people laugh. Making people like me. And Cat had been teased for weeks, months. All those years ago, Cat must have thought Angeline was rubbing it in when she gave her that wish rock and told her not to be afraid. Even now, she remembered Cat’s bright pink cheeks, her own clenched fists, the anger and fear and sadness brimming in them both. And their dad there, mopping up the overflowing toilet.
He never even asked what’d happened. Her mom was right. And not. Because he might have been the one to let that wedge slide in, but Angeline had hammered it into place.
“I should have been a better sister,” Angeline said.
Cat’s face sagged. “No. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
Angeline shook her head. “Our fault, can we at least agree on that?”
Cat nodded, guilt still clouding her eyes. “But from now on, we protect each other. We don’t have to always like each other while doing it, but we still have to do it.”
“I’ll like you,” Angeline said, but the heaviness of the moment made another instinct kick in. “Well, most of the time.”
Relief spread through Cat’s smile. “Bring. It.”
Something warmed Angeline from the inside, and she longed to reach for Cat, but her mom rummaging inside her worn messenger bag interrupted. She pulled out a packet of tissues, handing one to Gramps before taking one for herself.
“I guess you were right,” Angeline said to her. “Dad left us a long time before he moved out, didn’t he?”
Her mom blew her nose. “It’s true. Someone doesn’t need to physically leave in order to be gone.” She balled up the tissue and hesitated before tossing it to the side and again digging into her bag, sending it to the edge of the coffee table as she drew out PTA schedules and flyers for SAT prep courses. “Same way they don’t have to be physically present to be here.” She found her phone. “Your dad saw the news reports. He wanted to call you both.”
“But he doesn’t have our numbers,” Cat said. “We didn’t have phones before.”
“I’m giving you his,” her mom said. “He’d like to hear from you, if that’s something you want.”
Angeline sought out Cat, who glanced down at her feet. And so Angeline turned first to her mom, then Gramps. “And that’s okay with you?”
Gramps responded first. “Of course. Missing your dad’s nothing to be sorry about.”
Angeline thought back to that day at the beach when she wished with every rock in her bucket that her father would be there for her. Something she never told anyone. Something she tried so hard to forget. “But I was. None of you seemed to miss him, so I didn’t think I should. Could.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mom hopped up and placed a hand on each of Angeline’s shoulders. “That’s on me. You were both so young and never asked about him much, so I guess I thought out of sight, out of mind. But maybe that was to protect myself more than you.”
Angeline started shaking her head. Because it was true that she didn’t ask about him, didn’t seek him out, ignored Botox Wife’s social media smiley faces, sent the requisite Father’s Day cards in response to his requisite birthday ones. And still, she’d spent her whole life trying to get his attention, even now, racking up as many hearts and likes as she could from everyone else because she couldn’t get them from him. She hated him. She missed him. And she needed both of those things to be okay.
The creases around her mom’s eyes were the only evidence of how heavily this all weighed on her. She always put Angeline and Cat first, and Angeline loved her with every cell of her being for it.
“People can disappoint you,” her mom said. “They can also surprise you. Only you can determine if the risk is worth it. You each decide what you want, okay?”
Each of them—separately, like they’d been for years. Finally, Cat lifted her head. Angeline looked into her sister’s eyes. “Or maybe we could talk about it? Together?”
Cat beamed. “I’d like that.”
As their mom stole another tissue, her bag slumped to the floor. Angeline picked it up, felt the threadbare fabric, and suddenly said, “You need something new, Mom.”
“Don’t start. Replacing it would be like replacing you two.”
“But that’s the problem. Ever since Dad left. You’ve made us your everything.”
“I didn’t make anything. You are my everything. If only I didn’t have to go to work, I could be here all the time.”
“That’s not a good thing,” Angeline said, and her mom’s face fell. “The sentiment is, but you need more. Especially now. Like you said, everything will be different next year. You’ve taught us to put all our energy into what we love. But it’s okay for you to love more than us. I want you to.”
“Me too,” Cat said. “Though I want Gramps to vet him.”
Angeline nodded. “Sure, that, date. But also . . . maybe cut back on PTA and take some photography classes?”
Her mom’s brow knitted.
Gramps leaned forward in his armchair. “That studio in the harbor has a sign in the window for a leaf-peeping retreat. What do you say? Early Christmas present?”
She shook her head. “Ganging up again, huh?”
“Would you like to go?” Angeline asked.
“A little. And I do have plenty of vacation days . . . so maybe I should think about it? Would that be—”
Cat tackled her in a hug, reached out with one hand, and drew Angeline into it, where she stayed, finally letting herself be held by her big sister.
40
When Cat Freelances
TWO WEEKS AFTER OPERATION RED, BLUE, AND VIOLET
Cat waited for the fireworks to explode and bring the newsroom down to rubble. They’d come close before.