His Sugar Baby(38)
After a short tense silence, Pam asked more quietly, “How are you managing?”
Cathy gave a laugh. “I still have a roof over my head, if that’s what you mean. And the car has its good days and bad days, but so far it’s still getting me where I need to go.”
Pam shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. How are you, Cathy?”
Cathy stared at her sister, her eyes locked on Pam’s steady gaze. Pam knew her better than anyone else in the world. The wealth of compassion, underlaid by love, in Pam’s eyes was her undoing. Cathy was broadsided. Something cracked painfully, deeply, inside of her. She burst into tears. The anguish tore from her chest, and her body shook with the violence of her outburst. She started to crumple, but then Pam’s arms wrapped tightly around her. Somehow she came to be sitting on the sofa, leaning into her sister, Pam’s murmurs in her ears. Cathy hung on to her for dear life.
Cathy didn’t know how long she cried. When at last the storm was over, she was physically exhausted. Clumsily, she pushed upright, breaking free of her sister’s loosened arms. She swallowed, her throat raw. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She scrubbed the backs of her hands over her swollen eyes and wet cheeks. She was still sniffling, and her nose was running. “I’m not usually like this.”
Pam reached down into her hobo purse for a small package of Kleenex and handed it over. “You idiot. Don’t apologize. You obviously needed that meltdown.”
Cathy gratefully pulled loose a tissue and blew her nose. “Maybe I did. I do feel better. Tired but better.” She smiled and felt her mouth wobble. “Thanks for coming, Pam.”
“I would have come before if you had let me,” said Pam with a faintly accusing tone.
Cathy shrugged helplessly. “I know. But there wasn’t anything you could have done. And you were so far away. I hated to—”
“Inconvenience me?” Pam’s voice was sharp, crackling with anger. Her eyes blazed blue sparks. “Thanks a lot, Cathy! I’m really that shallow!”
Hot color surged into Cathy’s face. “I’m sorry, Pammy. Please don’t be mad at me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t take that. Not on top of everything else.”
Pam shook her head, her anger gone as quickly as it had come. “I’m not mad, not really. I’m just worried about you and Chloe and everything. It’s just so unfair for you and Chloe to suffer like this!”
Cathy straightened her shoulders, automatically responding as she always did. “I’m okay. It’s Chloe—”
Pam’s gaze turned fierce again. “No, you’re not okay! Damn it, Cathy! You aren’t freaking Wonder Woman, okay?”
Cathy was shocked into a giggle. A belly laugh caught her. “W–Wonder Woman? Oh, God!” She fell against the back of the sofa, giving herself over to laughter.
Pam stared, her eyes wide in alarm. Then her own lips twitched, before she, too, broke down. They shrieked helplessly, hysterically, clinging to one another.
Cathy laughed so hard that fresh tears ran down her face. Sludgy layers of mental and emotional muck were swept away. For the first time in many months, the air she drew into her lungs came easily and cleanly. When she could at last speak, she said thickly, “God, I’ve missed you!”
Pam wiped her eyes, spurts of mirth still burbling from her chest. “I’ve missed you, too!”
Cathy grinned at her with aching affection. “Come on. Let’s get you unpacked.”
The women got up from the sofa and retrieved the luggage. Cathy ushered her sister into the tiny bedroom that was always waiting for Chloe’s use. It was a typical frilly little-girl’s room, with a spangled canopied four-poster and pink-and-white dresser. Pam regarded the cheerful room in silence before saying quietly, “I’m glad you kept Chloe’s things.”
Cathy didn’t linger in the bedroom. It always hurt that Chloe wasn’t there. “I’m going to see about putting something together for dinner. Come on when you’re ready.” She walked out and went into the small kitchen, leaving Pam to unpack.
She had planned a green salad and baked parmesan chicken for their dinner. Swiftly she prepared the chicken breasts and slid them into the preheated oven. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the makings for a green salad.
Pam came into the kitchen. Leaning a hip against the counter, she asked quietly, “How often has Chloe been back home with you since you took this apartment?”
“Only twice,” Cathy said briefly. She did not look up from shredding the lettuce into a salad bowl. She knew what she would see in her sister’s eyes, and she didn’t think that she could bear another dose of compassion. She heard the beep of a cell phone, signaling an incoming text, and put the head of lettuce on the counter. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take that.”
She hurried into the living room and snatched her purse up from the sofa. Digging out the cell, she read the text and typed a reply. Then she slipped the cell back into her purse and returned to the kitchen.
Pam had found the cutting board and was cutting up tomatoes. She looked up. “Who was that? The hospital?”
“No. Just a friend.” Cathy said nonchalantly. At her sister’s curious gaze, she felt a flush rising in her face. Silently cursing her too-easy tendency to blush, Cathy avoided her sister’s eyes and picked up the lettuce again.