Page 18 of The Wrong Sister

Me: Very busy—work-wise

Catherine the GREAT: How is your girl doing?

Me: A little better, getting there thankfully. My part is almost over

Catherine the GREAT: Glad to hear it!

Me: How was your latest date?

Catherine the GREAT: It was nice. We saw a movie, he held my hand.

I hate to admit how much that bothers me. I want to come clean, tell Catherine that I want Griffin, that I’ve always wanted him. But that’s not fair to her. Just because I feel that way doesn’t mean he’d ever choose me. She’s the one that’s dating him and I can’t ruin that for her. I’ll be supportive and try to ignore how much it hurts to have these conversations.

Me: How was that?

Catherine the GREAT: Nice

Catherine the GREAT: He has nice hands

Catherine the GREAT: Being with Griffin feels very comfortable

I don’t understand how Catherine doesn’t hear how awful that sounds. She’s with Griffin fucking Simms. He’s sexy and interesting, smart and driven, compassionate and surprisingly playful. How is it that all she has to say was it was “nice.” Gross. Here’s to hoping I never describe a date in such boring terms. I’d rather be alone than settle for “nice.”

Me: That sounds nice, Catherine

(Ugh. It’s terrible! I hate even typing it!)

Me: I’m packing up to head home for the night

Catherine the GREAT: k, drive safe

I load up my purse but stop before I leave my office. The thought of going back to my empty apartment and obsessing over Catherine and Griffin together is not exactly enticing.

Me: You free tonight?

Raff: Whatcha thinkin?

Me: Booze and misery with a side of sci-fi?

Raff: I can be there in 20

Me:Thanks Raff

My evening arranged and looking up, I lock my office and drive home. I change out of my work clothes, pulling on pajamas. It’s only Raff, after all. I’m starving and he can always eat, so I throw together a big salad. I’m sautéing chunks of diced chicken in my cast iron skillet, vegetables roasting in the oven, when I hear Raff’s key in the lock. I’m thankful I gave him a key, especially on nights like this when I’m busy and feeling lazy. I’m happy to keep cooking while he lets himself in.

“I come with beer. Want me to get the show set up?”

“Yes please!” I call from the open kitchen area. “And thank you for the beer! I’m not sure what I even have in my fridge. I forgot to shop this week. I’m finishing the chicken for this salad, then I’ll be in.”

I dish up our food and set the dishes on my coffee table. Raff has already made himself comfortable and has the show we’ve been watching together,Dark, all queued up.

“Ok, before I start the show,” he turns to me, “we both know that you can’t handle the inferior dubbed voices, so we need to watch this in the original German with subtitles. Should we talk now, before we start the show? Or after?”

“You got me. We have food and beer. I say we eat and watch first. We can talk after this episode or pause if the need strikes. There’s nothing pressing.”

“Cool. Bring on the German time travel then!”

He starts the show and I lose myself in the easy companionship, good food, and compelling mystery. This show is super twisty and weird. I love it. I finish my salad, well after Rafferty is done inhaling his, and set my bowl on the table, stretching my feet out and leaning back with the rest of my beer. The episode ends and we both sit in shock.

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