Page 8 of Somewhere Without You

Seven

California does things to you. It gets inside your head. It changes the way you think, what you look like—who you are.

Katherine’s dark brown eyes clashedviolentlyagainst her bottle blonde hair, her fake lashes framing them like some kind of mask.

Ibarelyrecognized her anymore.

I dabbed at my mascara, trying to conceal the marks of Jackson’s rage, but Katherinewasn’tfooled. Shesawright through it.

I guess wewereboth guilty of hiding something.

“So,”she said, her voice slicing through thelowbuzz of the restaurant,“does Jacksonknowyou’re here?”

“Of course,”I lied.

Sometimes, when the light hit themjustright—Katherine’s eyeslookedlike theywereon fire. Theyweresmoldering embers now.

“Bullshit,”she hissed. Her leering gazewasenough to burn a hole through my skull—the way a magnifying glass does to an ant in the sun.

Except Iwasthe ant.

“I thought wewerehere to talk about Gran, not my marriage,” I shot back. I didn’t risk a visit with my sister only to be condemned by her.

“We are,”she countered, studying my face.“Butif you’re going to start off by lying to me, I suggest wegetthe elephant out of the room now.”

Whendid wegethere?

Katherine and Ihadbeen inseparable once—bound by blood, and misfortune.Nowthatbondhadbecomefrayed at the edges,barelyholding us together.

“I don’t have much time,”I said.“Can wejustgeton with it?”

Butbefore Katherinecouldrespond, a young waiter appeared at my side.“Ready to order?”he asked, his gaze shifting between us.

“I’ll have a California burrito, guac on the side, and a Bloody Mary—extra spicy,”Katherine ordered, her eyes locking onto mine. “You should try the carne asada. Iknowhow much you like—”

“—A chef salad for me, and water. Thank you.” I could feel the weight of Katherine’s stare as the waiter took our menus and walked away.

“You love carne asada,”she pressed, like shewastrying to convince me.

“Yeah, well. . .maybeI don’tfeellike it today,”I replied, the words tight.

“You don’t feel like it today?” she repeated, her brow furrowing.“Justlike you don’t feel like returning my calls?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I said evenly.

“Are you?”she snapped.“Jesus Christ, Em. You ordered a salad for fuck’s sake.Andnot because you felt like it. Jackson’s onto you about your weight again, isn’t he?”

“Jackson only wants what’s best for me,”I said, the defense coming tooeasily.“There’s nothing wrong with having expectations.”

I might as well have slapped her.

Katherine stiffened, her face tightening with anger. “Andwhat about your expectations?Ordo you not have any for him?”

“That’s none of your business,”I bit out.

“It is my fucking business,” Kat argued, gesturing at the bruise creeping over my tawny eyes.

I winced, my stomach sinking.

“Youknowwhat?”I said, standingabruptly.“Thiswasa mistake.”

“Emily, wait,”she urged, rolling her eyes. She sounded so much like our mother.“I’m sorry, I’ll drop it.”

She wouldn’t, but I sat back downanyway.

Noise from the street filtered through the open windows, a blur of snippets from random conversations as strangers passed by.

“I needthatfile on my desk by Tuesday,”a sharp-suited woman demanded into her phone.

“Can we go to the beach?”a child’s voice piped up, small and hopeful, followed by a heavy sigh from her mother.

Sometimes I liked to tuck myself into other people’s lives,justfor a moment. I wondered how manyhaddone the same to me,watchedme walk by and, for a brief second, envied what theysaw.

The server returned, setting our meals in front of us.“Anything else?”he asked, hands clasped behind his back.

“No, thank you,”Katherine answered, already lifting her cocktail glass to her lips.

He nodded and walked away.

“Gran’s things willprobablygo to auction,”Kat said, breaking into the guacamole with a casual dip.

Bits of steak and Pico de Gallo clung to the edge of her plate.

“Most of itwasjunkanyway, and I don’t have the time, or the space, to sift through it all.

”She didn’tlookat me as she spoke.“Thenthere’s the house. She left it to both of us.”

I stared at her, still trying to come to terms with the factthatGranwasgone.“What happened?”

Katherine sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass absentmindedly.“What do you think happened? Shewasold, Emily. She got sick.Andthen, shewasjust. . . gone.”

A wave of nausea washed over me. “What do you mean shewassick?Andwhy didn’t you call me when you found out?”Raw guilt clawed at my throat. I couldn’tevenrecall the last timeI’dspokento her.

“What do you want from me?”Katherine’s voicewassharp.“Youweren’treturning my calls, my messages. Hell, Ievenemailed you. Youwerea fucking ghost.”

I thought about the endless phone calls, the voicemailsI’ddeletedwithout ever listening to. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t.

“I did what Icould,”she mumbled, tipping her glass back to finish whatwasleft.“Distance played a role, too.”

“When’s the funeral?”I asked.

“What funeral?”Katherine laughed.“Gran didn’t want one.Andevenif she did, who would come?”

I shrugged. “I would.”

“Would you?Orwould your husband find some excuse to keep you home?” she asked, bitterly.

I shot her a glare.

Katherine’s shoulders sagged as she let out a long breath.“I’m sorry. It’s been a rough few days and I’mjusttired.”

Iwatchedher, the anger draining out of me, replaced by a heavy sense of understanding. Katherine, always the one to carry the weight alone,wasstruggling.

“So, what?”I lingered. “We’rejustgoing to bury her and be done with it?”

Katherine shook her head.“Granwasveryspecific about what she wanted done. Ihadher cremated. I’ll be heading back next week to pick up the ashes.”

“What about Mom?”I asked.

Her face hardened, the way it always did whenever our motherwasmentioned. “What about her?”

I poked at my salad, pushing the lettuce around more thanactuallyeating it.“Don’t you think we should. . . I don’tknow,maybebury them together?”

Katherine’s brow furrowed.“Why would we dothat?”

Gran and Momhadn’tbeen close for years before Mom died. After we moved in with Gran, itwasas if our motherhadnever existed. We never spoke her name, never acknowledged her memory. I didn’tevenknowwhere shewasburied.

I shrugged.“Itjustfeelslike the right thing to do, I guess.”

Kat snorted.“The right thing to do would have been not to abandon us in the first place.”

My fork clattered onto my plate, the noise startling a couple sitting nearby. “What did you say?”

IknewKatherine carried trauma over Mom’s death, but itwasn’tlike our motherhada choice in the matter.

Katherine continued eating, unfazed. “Look, I’m not trying to speak ill of the dead. What’s done is done.Butcome on, Emily,evenyou can’t denythatwhat Mom didwascowardly and selfish.Asa mother myself, I can’t—”

“Momwas not a coward,”I snapped, my patience fraying.“Seriously, Kat, are you so caught up in your own demonsthatyou can’t let it go? Mom didn’t abandon us—she’s fucking dead!”

Katherine stared at me, her eyeswide.“How do you think Mom died?”

“A heart attack.Oran aneurysm. . . I don’tknow,” I murmured.

Katherine blinked, pushing her plate aside as she settled back in her seat.

Lunchwasover.

“Em. . .”she began, her voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. Pity,maybe?“Mom didn’t die from an aneurysm or a heart attack,”she said, her eyes glistening.“She committed suicide.”

I stared at her as thoughshe’dsproutedanother head.“You’re lying.”

My sister lowered her gaze. “No, Emily. I’m not.”

I shook my head in disbelief.“Mom would never dothat. Shewashappy.”

“Wasshe?”Katherine challenged.“Becausehappy people don’t pop pills.”

“Justbecause she needed help doesn’t mean she killed herself,”I shot back, still reeling from the accusation.

Kat leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing.“Unfuckingbelievable,”she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest.“You’rejustlike her, youknowthat? Hell, you might as well be one slap away from joining her.”

The words slammed into me, and I flinched.

Katherineseemedto realize whatshe’dsaid, her face falling.“I’m sorry, I didn’t meanthat. . .”

I tossed my napkin onto my plate and stood.“Except you did.”

The waiter, oblivious to the tension, hurried over.“Would you like to take alookat the dessert menu?”

I pulled a twenty from my purse, slapping it down on the table in front of Katherine. “Ihearthe cheesecake is delicious.”

“Emily, stop. I’m. . .” Butmy sisters voice trailed off as I turned and walked out the door.