Page 70 of Sass

“Just joking.” Her bright hazel eyes danced as she walked across and pulled me into a hug. It was a little like the mouse hugging the elephant since my mum barely scraped five feet. It was my dad, at six feet eight, who harboured the giant genes.

We passed the time in general chitchat while I busied myself seasoning the vegetable soup in the slow cooker and getting the garlic bread out of the oven. My mother laid the table—mostly so she could snoop in the drawers—and my father, well, he studied me. I was grateful to finally call him to the table and rid myself of that prickly scrutiny.

Another twenty minutes passed innocuously enough as we ate and talked about a number of subjects, including what my siblings were up to and how Susie didn’t stop asking about her Uncle Leon—a not so subtle dig about the two weeks since I’d last seen her. But they were right. Between Caitlyn and Chris, I’d dropped the ball. I needed to fix that. But when my father pushed his empty bowl aside and sat back, I knew from the set of his jaw that playtime was over.

I rested my spoon in my bowl, pushed it alongside my father’s, and glanced between them. “Okay, let’s get it over with.” I spread my arms wide.

My dad frowned. “It’s not a matter of getting itover with, son. We’re all worried about you. We’re your family. It’s what we do.”

I opened my mouth to argue that they didn’t need to worry and then remembered Chris’s words.

“...maybe close that beautiful mouth of yours for a bit and listen to what they have to say, before you react.”

I snapped my mouth closed and waited.

“We know how you feel about the tree thing,” my mother began, putting her hand up as if to stop my protest. “And that’s just fine. You don’t need to agree with it, but we’re going ahead. Caitlyn loved kauris just like she loved tuis.” She arched a brow in reference to my tattoo and I winced. It wasn’t like I’d asked their permission to go ahead with that, was it? It kind of made my pissiness about the tree look all kinds of silly.

“Point taken,” I admitted grudgingly.

She smiled softly. “We’re not here to score points, sweetheart. We’re here because we love you.Allof us love you.”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I was determined not to cry. That lasted until I remembered Chris’s arsehole family and that mine really did care. And that was when the damn broke. My mother rounded the table and was at my side with her arms around me in an instant. My father reached for my hand and covered it with his own.

“The two of you were like peas in a pod.” My mother wiped my cheeks. “We couldn’t have been any prouder of both of you. It ripped us apart when she died, just like it did you. None of us truly understood that special bond you shared, but we all felt her loss. I would’ve given everything I had to stop that happening. It nearly destroyed me. Caitlyn had her whole life ahead of her and I miss her like crazy. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, miss her silly laugh that sounded like a squashed duck.”

I snorted tears and bubbles popped out my nose. I eased myself from my mother’s arms and wiped my face.

She pulled a chair close and sat with one hand on my shoulder and the other on my leg. “Just because we want to change things doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten, or want to forget, or care any less, if that was even possible. It just means we want to focus on the positive light she brought into this world and not on the pain of how she died and how it almost buried every one of us with her.”

“I spent years blaming myself.”

I spun at my father’s broken words. “You? But you weren’t even home that night, Dad.”

“And that’s exactly why.” His glistening eyes studied me with overwhelming sadness. “I wassupposedto be home, but at the last minute I’d gone to our office social golfing event instead. Then I stayed late for drinks. If I’d been home, maybe I could’ve taken her.”

“And if I hadn’t had two glasses of wine, I could’ve done it as well.” My mother’s voice was so quiet, I barely heard her. “Weallblame ourselves. Weallthink we could have done something to save her.”

“But that’s only becauseIfailed her.Me,” I protested.“If I’d done what I promised, none of it would have happened. I was such a selfish fucker—” I glanced up. “Sorry, Dad.”

He shook his head. “I was a selfish fucker too.” He shocked me with his words. My father never, ever swore. “But this isn’t a competition about who’s the most to blame for Caitlyn’s death. If it was, we’d all lose to Gina, who sailed through that intersection without paying attention. She was a mess for years. Her parents thought they’d lose her too.”

His words stilled me. “You... you spoke to her?”

My parents exchanged a look and my father answered. “We talk to her and her parents on a semi-regular basis.”

“What?” I stared between them. “Since when?”

This time it was my mother who replied. “We first called about eight months after Caitlyn died. I’d heard through a friend that Gina wasn’t doing too well. Your father and I thought that enough lives had been broken by your sister’s death. We didn’t want Gina to be another casualty.”

“But—” I couldn’t get my head around it. “I mean, how can you even bear to listen to her. And you never said anything? Do the others know?”

My father sighed. “They do now. It all came out last Sunday at the family meeting. We hadn’t planned to say anything, but there it was. They were... shocked, like you, I imagine. And we wanted to tell you in person as well, which is why we waited until today.”

I fell back in my chair, speechless, not knowing what to think.

“We kept it quiet because we weren’t sure how you’d all take it,” my mother explained. “Everyone was so angry with Gina at the time, including us. But the more your father and I talked, the more we realised Caitlyn loved Gina too, and that she’d hate it if Gina’s life was ruined by that one stupid mistake, as costly as it was to the rest of us.”

I couldn’t look at them. I didn’t know what to think. I’d spent seven years hating Gina for what she’d done, for her stupidity that had gotten Caitlyn killed. The only person I loathed more than myself was her, and that one thing had played some small role in keeping me sane. And all that time my parents had been... trying to help her?

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