Page 104 of Road Queens
Cass turned around. “Sidney’s right, y’know. You’re great. And you deserve whatever happiness you can grab. And since we’re talking about overused phrases: go for it.”
Absurd, but Amanda could feel her eyes fill with tears. It was nice being reminded that people valued you not in spite of your quirks but because of them.
And yes, she’d been lonely. And not just because there’d been a Cass-size hole in her life for five years. Being part of OpStar had madeher feel important and safe. When Cass left, she took those things with her.
It would have been difficult even if they were ordinary women with ordinary friendships and ordinary stories. No one likes being abandoned, no matter how drama-free their adolescences and relationships were. But they’d comforted Cassandra when she wept over the damage inflicted on her mother. They’d talked her out of patricide more than once. They’d taken her in after her father’s ignoble death. And after Cassandra had been, for all intents and purposes, orphaned, they’d packed his shit and gotten it out of her life.
“Fuck you both,” she replied, because she’d rather hide behind sarcasm than acknowledge how much their words meant. How muchtheymeant.
“Anyone in here have something else I can read to kind of mitigate how awkward this is for me?”
“Shut up, Dave,” she said kindly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Years earlier ...
“Whoa.”
Well put.Amanda and Sidney stood in Cassandra’s (former) living room and took in the chaos their friend hath wrought. She’d gone from her follow-up clinic appointment to her family’s now-abandoned home, a cream and brown split-level, the kind where, when you come in the front door, you immediately have to go down eight stairs or up eight stairs. Downstairs—two bedrooms and a bath. Upstairs—living room, kitchen, master bedroom.
At first glance, it appeared Cassandra was intent on tossing/blowing up her late father’s belongings. And a few of Iris’s things were in the pile too. Notably, the framed physician assistant oath that once hung in the kitchen. It was peeking out from a pile of DVDs, so all Amanda could read was the first line: “I will hold as my primary responsibility the health, safety, welfare, and dignity of all human beings.”
“Uh. Need some help?” Sidney asked.
“Clearly,” Amanda answered, though the question wasn’t directed at her. “Is this a time-to-pack-up-the-deceased’s-belongings thing or a time-to-blow-up-the-house thing?”
“The former, prob’ly,” Cassandra replied. “I mean, it’s gotta be done, right? He’s gone. He’ll never come back for any of this. And it’s not like they’re gonna let my mom out of prison to take care of it, so.”
“What’d the doctor say?”
Cassandra touched her stitches. “It’s too early to take them out, but I don’t have to keep it bandaged anymore. This is the air-will-help-it-get-better-for-some-reason phase. But hey! It’s not like they’re noticeable or anything, right?” She forced a smile, then burst into tears.
Horror and compassion tussled for control, and compassion won. “Cass, Cass, it’ll—” Be okay? No. Be the death of her? Please, no. Never be over? God, no. Be awful for years? Yep. She crossed the room and put her arms around her wounded friend while Sidney stood there and shifted her weight from foot to foot and said nothing and did nothing. Cassandra didn’t return the hug, just stood like one of those Native American totem poles. “There, there. By the way, me saying ‘there, there’ doesn’t make me feel inadequate at all. I’m going to pat you ineffectually on your shoulder too. And somehow, you’ll magically feel better.”
Cass snorted, then pulled back. The stitches were noticeable, sure. And while the contrast was livid between the deep black of the thread against the raw, red flesh of the healing slash—there was no swelling, no indications of infection—it was ... almost striking.She’ll always have a scar, but maybe it’ll be one of those cool scars.
“It’s just ... I look around ...” Cassandra flapped her arms, then let them drop to her side. “And there’s so much to do. And when I get one thing done, five more pop up. After I get rid of Dad’s things, I’ll need to get rid of a bunch of other things. And when that’s done, I’ve gotta sell the house, which means researching real estate agents and hopingthey won’t screw me. And the garage! I keep forgetting about the garage. I don’t even know where to start in there.”
The two-car garage housed one car. Mr.Rivers’s truck took up one side. The other was for fishing equipment. Soooo many rods, reels, tackle boxes, and tons of stuff Amanda couldn’t identify because the list of things she would prefer to do instead of fishing was long and distinguished.
Iris’s Ford Fusion, by contrast, was in the driveway in all weather, and occasionally needed a jump in winter.
“You shouldn’t just get rid of that stuff,” Sidney ventured. “I’ll bet you could sell a lot of it for good money. Your dad kept his equipment very fucking immaculate.”
“And maybe sell the truck, but keep your mom’s car?”
Cass nodded. “Uh-huh. Sure. How? How does a teenager do all this shit? I don’t even know where to start! And when everything gets tossed or sold or sorted, then I’ve gotta sell this place. Which means doing a buttload of paperwork since I’m a minor emancipated by murder. Oh, and I should probably finish high school. That’s on my to-do list too.”
Sidney, now that the tears had subsided, tentatively joined their small huddle. “Yeah, it’s fucked up that a sixteen-year-old has to deal with this all alone, but—aaagghhh, Jesus!” Sidney took a hopping step backward. “Dammit, Amanda! I think you just shattered my ankle.”
“She’snotalone.” Amanda tried to remember the last time she was this furious but couldn’t. “She hasn’t been alone since the day Jeff Manners loogied all over your palm. She’ll always have us and our families, and unlike some parental units I could mention, we willneverabandon her. Get it?”
“Fuck fuck fuuuuuuuck.” Sidney hobbled in a small circle as she clutched her ankle. “You’d better start running before I get the use of my shattered ankle back. Cassandra, there’s gotta be a cane here somewhere. Bring it to me so I can knock ‘Beat Amanda silly’ offmyto-do list, then limp home.”
Cassandra tried and failed to suppress her giggle. Despite the circumstances, Sidney smiled; it was the first time they’d heard Cass laugh in days. She shot Amanda a later-for-you glare as Cassandra put a hand on Sidney’s elbow and maneuvered her to the only seat in the living room not piled high with belongings.
“Sit tight,” she said, then wound her way through piles of belongings into the kitchen.
