Page 17 of The Wrong Sister
“Make that the three of us,” she agrees. “I couldn’t do what she does. I’m not the fighter Mina is. I like to stay a little more safe and comfortable. Give me numbers and a balance sheet every day of the week.”
I start to respond but the yelling of orders back to the line cooks is loud enough that I need to wait it out. This is less than ideal considering I intended dinner to be about the conversation. I have to pause again as our food is delivered to the table, before I can try to respond to Catherine’s observation about that difference.
“I guess I’m somewhere in the middle. I don’t have that fire that Mina has and I do like to handle things in a way that is ordered and logical. But I like that my job allows me to do that in a meaningful way. I can help people, but still have control, if that makes sense?”
“Perfectly! I think control is often what I appreciate most about my job. I’m rarely surprised. Everything makes sense and when things are a mess I know exactly how to put them right.”
I raise my glass and she touches it with hers. “To putting things right.”
She smiles, then her eyes get this faraway expression. “Do you ever worry that we’re a bit…boring?”
That hits me hard. It’s like I’m suddenly back in high school, those exact words cutting me to my core. And this isn’t simply me being haunted by past insults. It’s worse. Apparently what was true then is still true now and it’s noticeable. Even Catherine sees it. I swallow hard, hoping she can’t read my discomfort.
“The two of us specifically?”
“Well, no, more people like us in general. But maybe us specifically too. I don’t have much in my life that is unpredictable. Sometimes I worry that keeping things so safe also keeps things less exciting.”
“I don’t think you’re boring, Catherine.”
“Thank you,” she says, reaching across to pat my hand. “I’m not fishing for compliments, but I do wonder if sometimes I play it too safe. And maybe doing that is causing me to miss out on things with real depth and complexity.”
“I get that.”
We both start eating and I can’t help but wonder if she’s right. Do the choices I make and the things I pursue, or don’t pursue, make my life less exciting? I don’t know if I’m willing to try for anything close to that again. I can’t bear what comes with it. My meal is delicious and I’m struggling to appreciate the depth of flavors and textures, my mind is in such turmoil.
“I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Sorry. I thought you might understand where I was coming from. I certainly couldn’t ask that question of Mina or Rafferty.”
“Right, I suppose no one would call them boring.”
We eat in silence, thinking. Or as silent as it gets back in the loudest section of the restaurant. And I guess I’m assuming we’re both thinking. I’m pretty distracted myself. I feel Catherine looking at me so I pull myself out of my thoughts.
“Catherine, I wanted to talk to you about this. Us.”
She puts her fork down carefully and gives me her full attention.
“How would you feel about the two of us giving this a real shot? I genuinely like you and I like spending time with you. We have a shared history, family support, and similar personalities. I think we could make a real go of it.” I don’t think I could have made that sound more boring! They were right about me. Unasked for, an image of Mina pops into my mind, laughing with total, joyful abandon at Magic Island. I forcibly push it down. It doesn’t matter what I want, what matters is what is necessary. I know who I’m supposed to be. I know what path I’m supposed to take.
She tilts her head like she’s considering me, opening her mouth only to close it again when the order yelling begins again, then waiting patiently for a lull to speak. “I’ve said all of those same things recently. I’m willing to try if you are. My only request is that we take things slow. I don’t want to rush and do anything that could irreparably damage our friendship or makes things strained between our families.”
“I agree. 100%. We know each other pretty well, but I propose we go on dates and spend time getting to know each other now, as adults, with a relationship in mind.”
Catherine reaches across the table and shakes my hand firmly. That was not how I saw this conversation ending. It feels a bit like a business transaction. That doesn’t have to be bad though. I think about our families, about the responsibility I have for them, and I feel a sense of calm. This is good. I’m making the right choice, seeing this to its logical conclusion. Ticking thecorrectboxes.
I celebrate our decision by ordering dessert to share. I love the balance of the sweet vanilla ice cream with the Manoa bittersweet chocolate mousse. The only thing that’s missing is a rich espresso. Catherine doesn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I do. I realize, too late, that she probably would have preferred something light and sweet like the lilikoi cheese flan or the lychee sorbet.Great going, Griffin.
I drive Catherine back home and park, walking her up to her door. There aren’t any nerves. No jitters. Just peace. I pull her into a hug and she feels nice in my arms. I kiss her cheek softly, taking in her light, feminine scent.
“Good night, Catherine. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Night, Griffin.”
13
mina
I haven’t seen or heard from Griffin in a bit, but I haven’t seen Rafferty in that time either. Or Troy, thank goodness! Good riddance, creep. This case with the little broken girl has been taking up most of my time. I have other cases too, I’m not idle, but any spare thought or time I have is dedicated to her. Thinking about a tiny, innocent child being taken advantage of by people who should be caring for her and loving her gets me fired up. I want to do everything in my power to make sure she’s safe. We have her set up with a great foster family and she’s been making good progress with the child psychologist. She’s making the best of a bad situation and I’m working every day to do the same. With my job, I cannot have an off day. I need to be at my best at all times for these kids. They deserve nothing less. Any time thoughts of Griffin pop up, I banish them. I don’t have the energy to waste on wondering if he’s thinking about me. Nothing good comes from going down that path anyway. I’m finishing up for the day, getting ready to pack up and go home, when I hear a text alert.
Catherine the GREAT: Busy week?
