Chapter 16 #2
After dinner, Cash pops open a can of kitten food for Jangles and hovers while she eats.
“I was worried being here might make her too anxious to eat,” he remarks, nodding approvingly—and adorably—as she chows down with enthusiasm.
John, arranging store-bought chocolate chip cookies on a plate, exchanges an amused glance with his wife.
When the kitten is fed and settled, we all head for the family room, a cozy den at the back of the house with retro wood paneling, plush hunter-green carpeting, and a big pit-sectional sofa.
I keep waiting for Cash or Maisy to roll their eyes and tell their parents to get lost, but the family seems to move as a unit. It’s comforting.
“Oh god,” I squeak as I take in the framed photos crowded on top of a sideboard table. “Baby pictures? I’m going to be here a while.”
“The twin shrine,” Cash informs me, and he’s right. It’s nothing but photos of Cash and Maisy together over the years, not a single picture of either of them alone. “Here, come look at this.”
He guides me to the far wall, which is decorated with framed artwork, certificates, award ribbons, and photos.
“Welcome to the wall of fame, Hartnell style.” Maisy appears at my side. “The one place where his sports ribbons and my math awards get equal billing.”
“Oh, look, here’s my most recent academic achievement.” Cash points to a photo of a very young version of himself—eight or nine, maybe?—grinning from ear to ear and holding up a paper certificate. I lean closer to read it: Knox Elementary Annual Spelling Bee.
I laugh. “Hey, I see a few academic awards here. Looks like you were a good little student back in the day. I was expecting an entire wall of football memorabilia.”
John claps his son on the shoulder. “Cash is a very talented athlete. But”—he shrugs—“that’s only a small part of his life.” He smiles fondly at Cash, who keeps his eyes on the wall of photos, his face composed.
Cash has never talked to me about his future, but at that moment, watching him, I can read his dreams like they’re written on his face.
I’m beyond exhausted by the time I close the door to the little guest room on the second floor.
An off bit of homesickness tugs at me, though it’s not for my bedroom back in Shafer or even my grandmother’s house in Jersey.
Instead, it’s a longing for the comfort of solitude, a quiet house without memories.
Without someone else’s perfect family. A place I can be alone and content with my hobbies and not be reminded of what I’m missing. A place where being alone isn’t lonely.
I slip into pajamas and take a slow lap around the cramped room to look at the photos on the walls.
They’re all from Cash and Maisy’s childhood, when they were chubby-cheeked with perfect baby curls, Cash always grinning, Maisy’s expressions stretching the full spectrum from glares to grins.
Photos of them holding hands, snuggled against each other, or in the arms of their young and tired-looking parents.
My homesickness grows, but I can’t resist wanting more of this family and to get a glimpse into their beginnings.
The faint outline of letters stands out on a bare patch of wall, the paint a shade darker in the shape of C not until I’ve worked it out for myself.
But Maisy’s kindness won’t let me hold it all in.
“It is about my parents, I guess. I’m jealous of what you have.
” I gesture around the room. “This family, I mean. You guys are just so…perfect.” My voice cracks on the last word, which gets Maisy laughing and cooing at me.
“Oh, Georgia, if you only knew. Look, I get it. We’re lucky.
Don’t think I don’t see that. But perfect?
Girl, you don’t even know.” She flops back on the bed and pulls me with her, a grim smile on her face.
We lie shoulder to shoulder and look up at the ceiling dotted with tiny glow-in-the-dark stars, and that alone feels instantly comforting.
“Maybe if you were staying for a season, I could give you the full picture, but since we only have a weekend, I’ll give you the abbreviated version.
My parents can barely see Cash and me for what we are because they’ve had it in their minds what they want us to be since the day they became parents.
And I’ve never told you this, Georgia, but I’ve been struggling with my mental health since elementary school. ”
The words wrap around my heart like barbed wire, the sharp edges piercing into me. “I—God, Maisy, I’m so sorry,” I say, rolling onto my side to face her. “How did I never know that?”
“I never told you.” She shrugs. “But you know what my mom reminded me earlier today? When you came to stay with us that summer, I had to leave for a couple days so my dad could take me to Chicago for a mental health evaluation. Do you remember me being gone?”
“No, but that whole visit was a blur.” So that’s why I remember spending so much time with little Cash. “So are you…managing okay? I feel like an ass for not knowing or helping.”
“Don’t. Believe me, when I need help, I ask for it.
Don’t worry about me, Georgia. Anyway. I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m trying to talk you out of your feelings.
I’m lucky to have my family, dysfunction and all.
But you have me.” She rubs the back of my hand with one finger.
“And in case you didn’t notice, you also have my brother’s undying devotion. ”
My stomach tightens—how much does she know?—but her face is relaxed. Only then do I let myself acknowledge how deeply I want her words to be true.
“I know it’s not the same, but you have us, and that’s something.”
“That’s definitely something.”
Yet the words sharpen the ache. When I leave this place in a few months, that something won’t be waiting for me in my old town.
We lie there a while, talking about nothing much, Maisy reminding me she’s seeing some high school friends tomorrow and asking if I want to come along. I say no, and she doesn’t push. After a while, she makes me promise to come get her if I feel sad again, then hugs me and says goodnight.
Only after she leaves do I remember what I wanted to ask her: What’s the other reason she didn’t want me to come this weekend?