Page 14 of Back to You
Thank God. If she had really wanted to move, I’d support her—wholeheartedly. But selfishly? I don’t want her going anywhere. I’ve lost so much already, and the idea of not having her in the same country as me makes me feel sick.
Reaching over, I grab her hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry. This sucks. It feels like everything is changing.”
Anna sighs, nodding. “It does. It does suck. And I can’t even be mad at my mom because, of course, she wants to be with her husband. And, of course, my dad wants to be with his mom while she’s sick. It all seems perfectly logical in my head. But in my heart? It feels completely unfair.”
She lets out another breath, then shakes her head. “And to top it off, I dropped my phone in the sink while the water was running and got personally attacked by Libby’s devil cat.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
She deadpans. “Mari, that thing is not a cat. It’s a demon in a fur coat.”
I lost it. Laughter bursts out of me.
Libby’s cat is a nightmare. Anyone who gets too close suffers—one swipe of her claws and you’re marked for life. So we’ve learned to keep our distance. We keep our eyes to ourselves, and she keeps her claws to herself. Well…except for two other people.
If Anna and one other unlucky soul are even in the vicinity of Libby’s cat, she attacks. No warning, No hesitation. Just pure, unprovoked violence.
“What happened?” I ask, already bracing myself.
Anna throws her hands in the air. “So, I see that the devil cat is out, and like a good neighbor, I decide to bring it back to its rightful owner.”
“Anna, you didn’t!”
“I did! I was just trying to help!”
“You know what that cat feels about you!”
She clutches her chest. “I did nothing to her! She’s a psycho! Anyway, I tried to gently coax her to come with me, but in true devil cat fashion, she refused.” She mimics reaching out her hands dramatically, then reenacts the moment with a full-body shudder.
“So, like an idiot, I picked her up. And the SECOND she’s in my arms? She hisses at me and scratches both my arms. I fall. Fall, Mari, to the ground. And then? I watch this little hellspawn scale the tree like freaking Spider-Man. And now here I am.” She waves a hand over herself.
I bite my lip, trying, and failing, not to laugh. “Wait. So… you just left?”
“I sure did. I was not about to get my eyes scratched out, Mari!”
“But what about the cat?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I called her best friend to come get her out. I left as soon as he arrived.” She smirks.
I gasp. “You didn’t!”
“I did! It’s fine, he’ll be okay.” She laughs, then runs a hand through her hair. “Sorry I look like shit. It’s been one hell of a morning.”
I shake my head, smirking. “You literally saw me yesterday with a broken shoe; trust me, there’s zero judgment coming from me. Besides, somos hermanas. You and me until the end, babyyy.”
Since both Anna and I are only children, we’ve always said we’re sisters, not the family we were given, but the family we chose. She’s always been meant to be in my life, which is why it was so hard for me to keep her away when I was in Seattle.
Looking at her now, it’s hard not to think about the girl I used to be. The one who let herself stay in a relationship where she was constantly choosing someone who never really chose her back. The one who hid pieces of herself from the people who actually loved her. I don’t want to be that girl anymore.
We both stand and head toward the counter where Hilda is sitting, lost in a book. Her grey hair hangs loosely, framing her soft, round face, and she’s smirking. She must be reading something smutty.
I’ll never forget the book that led to my sexual awakening at fourteen, Forever by Judy Blume. Not exactly smutty, but it was the first time I read about characters having sex.
And the real revelation? The idea that some guys name their penises things like Ralph. That alone had me avoiding boys at school… at least until my sophomore year.
After that, I started smuggling smutty books from Hilda’s shelves, hiding them beneath the loose floorboard in my room. She always left them lying around, and since I basically lived at Ink & Paper, I’d sneak one into my bag, devour it, and swap it for another.
Now, at thirty-two, I can buy my own books, and thank goodness for discreet covers. Because I cannot tell you thenumber of times I turned tomato-red putting down two handfuls of books with half-naked men on the cover at the checkout.
