CHAPTER 4 #2
My sister, in two seconds and two clicks, has found Katie’s Instagram page, her LinkedIn profile and a list of her research publications. It’s almost frightening how easily all of our information can be found online.
“Yeah, I know.”
I don’t admit it to her, because she’d tease me about it until the end of time, but I’ve already done a deep dive into Katie’s online presence.
After leaving her last night, I’d spent an embarrassingly large amount of time scrolling through her Instagram, following along the years of her life since I’d last seen her through her scant number of posts.
She’s not one to post often, but on the few occasions she deemed Insta-worthy, I got to see a glimpse into her life and how it has changed and grown since she was a teenager.
“Hmmm.” Rosie stares down at her screen, her fingers working to enlarge and minimise photos at a rapid pace. “I seem to remember you had quite the crush on her back in the day.”
I shrug. There’s no point in denying it.
Every boy in our class had a thing for Katie Winslow.
She arrived like a breath of fresh air, shy and sweet, with masses of silky chestnut hair and a face that gave you butterflies.
Like all teenage boys, when confronted with that kind of beauty, I put her in a box—a too-good-for-me box—and befriended her instead.
And as it turns out, for that year we shared, she was an excellent friend to me.
“Sure,” I agree, taking her phone and zooming in on the photo on her screen.
It’s one with Katie and her mum, both smiling matching smiles at the camera.
Katie’s hair is down and tumbling over her shoulders, her cheeks are flushed with the cold or just happiness, and her eyes are the colour of molten gold.
“Look at her; who wouldn’t have a crush on this woman? ”
Rosie takes her phone from me and hums. “True. I’m pretty sure I had a thing for her as well. She was so smart and funny and quirky. Even though I was younger, she always had time to talk to me. She even helped me with some of my biology projects.”
This doesn’t surprise me at all. The girl I knew then was smart to the point of being a genius, and it looks like she’s putting that big brain of hers to good use.
“She helped me, too.” I remember those study sessions together in perfect detail.
She’d agreed to work on a group assignment with me, and I was so enamoured with her that I didn’t learn a single thing.
Except the details of her face. And the way she always smelled like vanilla. Those things I learnt off by heart.
“So, tell me. What’s she like now?” Rosie turns to tend to her Bolognese sauce, and I take a beat to ponder this.
Katie is, without question, still beautiful.
Even more beautiful than she was at sixteen.
She’s still inquisitive and bright, and off-beat.
She still tends to blurt things out without thinking.
And yet, she carries herself differently now.
She’s no longer the vibrant girl from my youth but seems buried in…
something. Sadness. Or perhaps, loneliness.
Losing her mum must have hit her hard; it seems like she hasn’t recovered from that blow even two years later.
I get up to set the table, needing to do something with my hands. The idea of a sad Katie twists my insides in a way that baffles me. She’s barely more than a memory in my life; why is she affecting me so much?
“I guess she’s the same,” I tell Rosie finally. “Older, wiser, smarter, prettier.” Rosie flashes a grin over her shoulder, and I smile back, a rueful smile, then add, “She does seem…lonely.”
With two bowls in her hands, heaped with spaghetti and a rich sauce that has my taste buds twerking, Rosie sits at the table next to me. I pour us both a glass of red wine, and we are silent for several moments, taking giant mouthfuls and gasping at how good it is.
“Why lonely?” she asks when she comes up for air. We’re like two pigs brought to a trough, inhaling our food like animals. If our mum could see us now, she’d be mortified.
I sip at the last of my wine, wondering what I can share. There’s a post about her mum’s passing on Instagram, so I guess it’s not a secret. “She lost her mum to cancer just over two years ago.”
Her eyes well up, and she frowns. Rosie has always been an empath; when others hurt, she feels it. “That’s awful.”
The image of Katie alone in her small, colourful flat sits heavy alongside my pasta in my stomach. “And I don’t think she has any other family. So, it’s just her.”
“That makes me want to cry,” she sniffles.
I squeeze her hand. “I mean, our parents are a nightmare, and don’t get me started on George”—her frown turns feral—“but we’ve got each other and dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles. We’ve got a community. And Katie…she seems to have nobody.”
A heavy silence sinks between us, and I can see from the look on my sister’s face that she’s rushing to fix it. Guaranteed, within the next ten minutes, she’ll be befriending Katie online and forging a friendship from there. Her soft heart won’t allow the idea of anyone to feel alone.
Right on cue, she asks, “What can we do to fix it?”, and her gleaming eyes suggest she has many, many solutions ready to go.
Again, I picture Katie’s flat, decorated in her quirky style, without an ounce of Christmas cheer to be seen. What did she say about her lack of a Christmas tree? Something about sad, single gals and movies?
“I had an idea,” I say. Rosie leans in eagerly. “Katie was telling me how hard it is to get a Christmas tree up to her flat by herself, something about When Harry Met Sally and being a sad, single gal…”
She puts her hand up. “I know exactly what she’s talking about. In the movies, if you’re alone at Christmas, it means you’re pulling a tree to your sad flat by yourself through the snow. It’s the most depressing depiction of being single during the holidays.”
“Right,” I say, though I’m still a little lost. Perhaps I need to watch one of these movies to understand the reference? “So, I was thinking, maybe I should offer to help her? I can be there to pull the Christmas tree through the snow with her.”
Her face positively glows at this suggestion. “This is the best. I love this idea. You totally have to do it. It will go perfectly with your re-meet cute.”
A re-meet cute? I still have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Do you think it’s a weird thing to offer, though?” I say. “Given we’ve only just reconnected and we’re not really friends?”
She sits back in her seat and rubs her belly with a contented sigh.
“Oh, big brother. I don’t think you should offer.
Katie will only say no. You need to turn up and make it happen.
If you want to make this season more festive for her, then you’re going to have to just show up. She can’t turn you away.”
My mind flashes back to Katie and her firm refusal to have dinner with me tonight and wonder if this is true.
But at the same time, Rosie’s plan means I can at least try to brighten up her Christmas season, and if I get to spend more time with her in the process?
Well then, it’s a very Merry Christmas to me.