Page 30 of The Two of Us

I kick a rock out of my path. “I wish things could go back to how they were. Growing up sucks.”

Cat hums in agreement and we walk for a while in silence. “I think my parents are getting a divorce.”

I stop in my tracks. “What?”

She’s already sniffling back tears. “They’ve been arguing a lot. They think we don’t hear, but the walls are thin. I want to ask my mom about it, but I don’t think I want to know. At least right now I can pretend it’s not happening.”

I understand all too well what she means and my heart breaks for her. I want to shield Cat from what divorce can do to a family.

“I think that’s why Ambrose has been so distant. It’s like he knows something I don’t. He barely talks to me anymore.”

Her sniffles grow into a full-on sob and I let my bike crash to the ground, enveloping her in my arms. I stroke her back. “I’m so sorry, Cat. I don’t even know what to say.”

She wipes the snot from her nose with her sleeve. “Why do people give up on the ones they love?”

Her question shakes me to my core. “I don’t know. I wish there was an answer, but I’m not sure there is.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me we’ll never leave each other. No matter what happens, no matter how many fights we have along the way… we’ll never abandon each other.”

I reach for her hand, wrapping her delicate pinkie around mine. “I promise.”

That night we curl up on the cloud sofa in Cat’s den. The sofa is so deep, we can extend our bodies and still have enough room for a fort of pillows and blankets. We decide on a movie night and Cat pops in our favorite, Practical Magic. We used to save the movie for Halloween, but at some point it became our comfort movie. We resonate with the premise of two sisters who’d do anything for each other. And there’s magic, so duh. A bowl of popcorn bigger than our heads is nestled between us and we’re wearing what we’ve penned as our “Sad Socks.” A pair of fuzzy socks with puppies and ice cream cones all over them. We have a difficult time staying sad with them on.

“I can’t believe I don’t have Nicole Kidman’s hair from this movie.”

I chuckle. “Just from this movie?”

She nods vehemently. “Yes. Her hair is something else in this movie. It’s iconic.”

I don’t disagree. It is iconic.

“Why do you get to be Nicole’s character anyway? Maybe I want to be her.”

Cat pats my leg mockingly and squeals when I swat it away. “Come on, you know you’re more like Sandra Bullock’s character!”

I gasp. “Why, because I’m boring?”

“She is not boring. She’s responsible and loyal. And give our girl some credit, she has killer hair in this movie too.”

I’m complaining for the heck of it, but what Cat says holds some truth. She resembles the wild boy crazy character, while I’m more like the sister who follows the rules and keeps her heart guarded with an iron gate.

“Cat, have you seen my tennis racket?” Ambrose asks, walking into the den. He pauses at the foot of the sofa. His shoulders tense, uncomfortable at the sight of me. What did I do to make him dislike me so much?

“It’s in my room next to my closet.”

Ambrose’s eyes narrow. “Why is my racket in your room?”

Cat’s unfazed by the irritation in his voice. “I was having a concert. I used it as a microphone.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” He sighs heavily before bounding up the stairs.

When I get home that night, my dad is sitting in the kitchen, engrossed in a pile of books and I squeeze his shoulder. “Hey, Dad.”

He lowers his glasses down the bridge of his nose and embraces me in a side hug. Warm and steady. That’s my dad. “Mara, what on earth happened to your hand?” he gasps.

---