Page 17 of Sass

Fuck.The worst of it was, he was right. In my brain, I knew that. But my heart couldn’t see past my own guilt and grief and the relief of drowning that in everyone else’s. How the hell could they not still feel the same?

“I understand what you’re saying, Kev. I just... I don’t get what’s so wrong with what we’ve always done?”

“Because it’s become about whatyouwant, not us. Some of us want to move past the gut-wrenching churn of self-recrimination and grief and focus on something better about her.”

And there it was. Air whooshed from my lungs as my mother’s gentle voice rang in my ears from a few weeks back.

“We want to smile when we remember her. We want to build something different. Caitlyn wouldn’t want this, not now. Not seven years later. No one had more zest for living than her, and you know that.”

“I... I don’t know if I’m ready. I... god, I don’t know if I can.” I wiped at my eyes and a heavy sigh broke down the line.

Kevin’s voice gentled. “And that’s okay. No one’s sayingyoucan’t keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s what we all do together that we want to change.”

“But...” I struggled for the right words without sounding pathetic. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

He sighed and the weight of it filled my head with guilt. “Leon, listen,” he said, sounding way more like the older brother than me. “At the beginning, it was the right thing to do. The right way to remember what happened. Going to the site of the accident, then on to her grave. Sharing a meal of her favourite foods. Being angry. Railing at the injustice. The photos, the toasts... watching you get... drunk... crying. All of it. But it’s like this weight around our necks now.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and I spoke through gritted teeth, pain slicing my heart. “So, why wait until a few weeks before her anniversary to say something?”

“Don’t you dare,” Kevin fumed, his voice rising again. “Mum and Dad have been trying to talk to you for months, but you keep shutting them down. Caitlyn wastheirdaughter. And there’s a new generation coming through. Susie’s just the first. Grandkids who never knew Caitlyn. Things are changing whether you want them to or not.”

Oh god.

“Jenn and I want Susie to smile when Caitlyn’s anniversary comes along, not dread the day like—”

“Dread?” I echoed, not hiding my shock. “Is that what people feel? Is that whatyoufeel? Caitlyn was our bloody sister. And she wasmytwin.”

“Yes, she was,” Kevin answered evenly, lowering his voice. “And her death was a fucking tragedy. But she’s been gone seven years—”

“And I, for one, amnotgoing to forget her, unlike some.” I regretted the words the minute they left my lips and caught Kevin’s sharp intake of breath.

“Jesus, Leon. What the actual fuck?”

“Fuck.” I slapped my palm against my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“No one’s asking you to forget her,” he railed. “And none of us are trying to forget her either. So don’t you ever say that again, you shithead. I loved Caitlyn every bit as much as you, and you know damn well that’s not what this is about.”

Fucking fuck, fuck.How did we get here?I sighed, blinking hard. “I said I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to say.”

“Fucking oath, it was.” He huffed down the line. “You’re damn lucky I love you, although at the moment I wouldn’t take odds on that lasting.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

The line went quiet for a moment before Kevin softly said, “You have to stop blaming yourself. Remember Caitlyn, grieve her, but live your life and let everyone else do the same.”

“Iamliving my life.” I sliced a hand through the air, frustration boiling over. “And I don’t blame mys—”

“Yes, you do. It’s why you torture yourself every year by reliving every second of that godawful day, and then the funeral, in excruciating detail. But you make us relive it too, and it hurts now. We’re done. It’s time, at least for some of us, to move past agonising over her death, and start celebrating her life and who she was as a person. No one wants to hurt your feelings. Caitlyn was a firecracker, remember? What do you think she’d want? We thought we could do something symbolic, like plant a tree or put a bench somewhere with a nice view where we could go and sit and—”

“Plant a tree?” Disdain dripped from my unchecked words. “Jesus Christ. Really, Kevin? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“What would you suggest?” He gave a frustrated sigh. “Maybe some self-flagellation? Or should we all don hair shirts? Although I think you’ve cornered the market on that shit already.”

His words hit like a fist to my chest and my throat choked closed.

“Fuck.” Kev hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Jesus, look at us. We’re better than this.”

I took a second to breathe and stitch up my heart. “Yeah, I know.” My voice was less than steady. “And I know I don’t make it easy for you... for anyone.”

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