Page 13 of Away With You
“Nah uh,” she responds. “It kinda is.”
Squirming, like I’m under a microscope, I get up and pour another whiskey. “I met up with an old friend earlier, and it ended earlier than expected. So, here I am.”
She tilts her head, her ponytail swinging over her shoulder. “An old friend, hey? Anyone I know?”
I hesitate. “I’m not sure? Do you remember Katie Winslow? She joined my class in Year 12?”
Her face lights up. “Katie? Of course I remember her. She was one of the nicest people in your class. Hell, in the entire school. That’s who you met up with?”
My chest warms. So, it wasn’t just me who held a soft spot for this woman all these years. She must go around collecting fans and not even realise it.
“Yeah.” I take a sip of my drink, revelling in how smooth it goes down. Expensive whiskey, another perk of being rich. “I literally bumped into her when I was in Clapham helping Cherry move. It was so random. I walked her home, and then we met for a coffee today.”
My sister bounces on her toes, her eyes shining like she’s hearing her favourite story ever. “This is amazing. Like the ultimate meet-cute.”
The what now?
“Is she still stunning?”
A picture of Katie in that woollen dress floats through my mind. She’s beyond gorgeous, all curves and luscious hair. And it’s more than that. It’s the intelligence beaming from her wide hazel eyes, the kindness in her smile, the way she seemed to really listen when I spoke. Add all of this to her creamy skin tone, her full pink lips and that heart-shaped beauty spot just under her eye, and she’s a total knock-out.
“She is.”
Before I can blink, Rosie is tapping away on her phone, a bright smile taking over her face at what she finds.
“Wow. She’s not only gorgeous, but she’s a doctor.” She points her screen at me, and I take it from her.
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 thecold 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.”
