Prologue
On my tenth birthday, my sister came home.
I leaned over my grandmother’s old wooden table and blew out the candles on my birthday cake. Through the smoke rising from the cake, the door opened and in stepped a figure I had not seen in years. Silence slowly crept through the room as she approached the table. Blonde and big and intimidating, she set four presents down in front of me. I almost didn’t recognize her, but there she was, Catherine as ever, and I could not deny it was her.
“Happy birthday.”
She stood across from me, arms wide open. I couldn’t contain my grin. I pushed my chair out and slid off, running into her extended arms. I returned her hug and kissed her cheek, laughing from pure happiness. She pulled away and kissed my forehead, the remain of her lipstick feeling wet and sticky on my skin. Her eyes were alight with a kind of golden hue in her deep green irises. Her eyes crinkled as she grinned at me and sat down, and I climbed into her lap to hug her again. As I did, I felt sharply aware of everyone looking at us.
Almost all of my family had been invited to my birthday that year. 10th birthdays were a big deal in our family, always had been. I was of course, excited to turn ten. I had insisted that everyone I knew be there. But suddenly, in this unexpected reuniting with my sister, I wished that no one had been there at all. I buried my face into her neck, trying to shake the glares of others off of me. A soft chatter arose from the people around us, and I felt my mother’s arms pulling me off of my sister.
“What are you doing here?” My mother’s voice is a low whisper. Harsh and husky. My sister smiled at her.
“I couldn’t miss Rose turning ten years old,” she replied.
My mother spun me around towards my aunt and gave me a small push.
“Open your presents and let me talk to Catherine,” she whispered in my ear, giving my shoulders a small squeeze. Disappointed but obedient, I nodded my head and took my place back at the head of the table. My mother dragged Catherine into the hall way. My aunt shoved a present into my arms with shaking hands. I am just old enough to know that something is wrong, and just old enough to pretend that I don’t notice. No one could deny, however, the sudden change in mood in atmosphere, and it felt wrong to me to open my sister’s presents, though I could not pin point why. I can barely contain my excitement, though, at the thought of being reunited with my sister. I began to open the presents, and squealed with delight at the expensive colored pencils and sketch books. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the shadows of my mother and sister looming in the hallway. My mother’s shadow is so small compared to Catherine’s, hunched and faded. The shadow that is born from my sister is tall and threatening. Had I not known who it was, I might have been terrified by it.
“What are they talking about?” I whined eventually, growing impatient after opening all of my presents. They were nice gifts indeed, but all I yearned for at that particular moment was a chance to thank my sister for the presents. No one answered, adults clearing the table of their food. The other children simply shrugged their shoulders, sensing their parents nervous energy and grabbing their coats. It was time for people to leave.
When I was certain no one was paying attention, I slipped out of my chair and and crept to the back hall where my mother and sister were talking.
My mother was as hunched as ever, her forehead wrinkled and her eyes red. I knew she had been crying. They both turned to me, and I felt my face growing warm. I looked at Catherine, who had a deadpan, almost cold look in her eyes. For a second, her look sent a shiver down my spine, and a strange sensation overcame my senses. The sensation disappeared as quickly as it came, however, and I smiled at my sister. She held my gaze with her piercing blue eyes for a second, then she smiled and came over to me, enveloping me in a hug.
“I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten,” she laughed, flipping me upside down and holding me by my feet. “You’ve gotten so big but I can always hold you upside down.”
I laughed and tried to kick my feet, to no avail. As we laughed and struggled with each other, I was strongly aware of my mother watching us. Catherine finally put me back down, and turned to face our mother.
“So?” Said Catherine, folding her arms. I wondered what they had been talking about as I watched as my mother attempted to straighten herself out. I slid my hand into Catherine’s, and she squeezed it tight.
“Fine.” My mother whispered, pressing her lips together. “But no more than a few months. That’s it.”
“Is she moving in?” I asked, holding my mother’s hand tightly. She gave me a stiff nod.
Catherine and I erupt with happiness. I hug my mom and so does Catherine. I am too happy to care or really wonder why my mother does not touch Catherine.