Page 31 of The Two of Us

I angle my body, pulling the hand wrapped in white gauze and tape out of view, and the lie comes easily. “Cat and I were dancing at the convenience store earlier and we got a little too excited. I tripped and fell on some rocks, no biggie.”

His eyes soften. “You inherited my two left feet, princessa.”

I slide into the chair next to him. “I sure did. What’s for dinner?”

“Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about first.”

I freeze at the uncertainty in his voice. “Okay…”

“I told your mother it would be better if she spoke with you about this, but she insisted that every time she calls you, the call drops. She thinks there’s something wrong with our landline,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

I bite my tongue, refusing to admit I’ve hung up on my mom more times than I can count. I’m content allowing her to believe it has something to do with our signal and not the irritation her voice causes me. “That’s so weird. Maybe we should have the phone checked.”

His expression is skeptical. “Like I said, your mother has some news she wants me to share with you.”

“Let me guess. She’s starting another business. Painting and bread baking this time. Or, let me see, she’s moved into another flat because she wasn’t feeling inspired enough by her old one. Or maybe she—”

“She’s getting married, sweetheart.”

The only thing I can hear is the sound of me and my dad breathing. I try to identify the emotions washing over me. I’m not sad. I’m not angry. I’m not even surprised if I’m being honest with myself. I feel nothing at all.

My dad puts his hand over mine, his eyes hopeful. “What are you feeling right now?”

I purse my lips. “I don’t feel anything, Dad. If she wants to get married, she should do that.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

I squeeze his hand and smile to show him I’m okay. “I’m fine. Thank you for telling me. I’m going upstairs to change. Can you get me when dinner’s ready?”

He nods slightly, concern pinching his eyes. I think he expects me to cry, but like my mom said when I was six years old, crying won’t change anything. I exit the kitchen before he can further psychoanalyze me. I’ve learned disappointment is a by-product of expectation. I no longer expect things from my mother, so she no longer has the ability to make me spiral. You can’t change people; I know that now. And I will no longer concern myself with begging people to stay. Begging them to want me back. I’ll take what I can get from those who will give it.

My mind drifts to Ambrose. The Kings have their own mess to muddle through. I want to be understanding but a part of me resents him and his decision to ice me out in the midst of his pain while Cat pulls me closer in hers. His actions won’t sway my emotions anymore. If he doesn’t want to be friends, so be it.

I throw myself face-first into my bed, craving sleep until my twentieth birthday. I can’t imagine life is this hard when you’re an adult. One day, Cat and I will leave Speck Lake together. We’ve already talked about the places we dream of going. Cat’s set on California because of the never-ending sunshine and surfer boys, but I always make my case for New York City. She said she’d consider it when I dangled the idea of going to Broadway shows every weekend.

I hold the picture frame on my nightstand above my face. Me, Cat, and Ambrose stare at the camera, huddled so close, you can’t see where one body ends and the other begins. It’s from last Halloween when Ambrose surprised us by participating in our group costume at the last minute. The flash from the camera washes out the background, but if I squint hard enough, I can make out Sasha Baker pouting off to the side. She has nothing to worry about now because she has Ambrose in her clutches, but this picture… it’s just for me. A moment in time immortalized. Something that can’t change no matter what happens from here on out.

Cat smiles brightly at the camera, throwing up her signature peace sign. It’s one of the reasons it’s my favorite, but something else convinced me to keep this particular photo at my bedside for the last year. I run my fingers over the frame. Ambrose and I hold up peace signs as well, our way of mocking Cat at the time. Our smiles are just as bright, but we aren’t smiling at the camera.

We’re smiling at each other.

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