We’re all scouring the beach for shells of all sizes. When I show my Pinterest ideas, everyone gets very enthusiastic. It goes up a notch when I suggest a midmorning mimosa to accompany our glue guns.
I brought some cards to stick shells to, along with tissue paper and some string I don’t have an identified use for. Yet.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Katherine asks as we trail along the shore.
I stop, and she’s looking out to the horizon. “It’s a beautiful spot.”
“Promise me we can still do things like this after I’m married,” she says.
I slide my arm around her waist. “What do you mean? Like scour the beach for shells?”
“I just mean spend time together. I don’t want it to be like how it is with Mom when we see her. Like we’re going through the motions and we’re only there because we have to be. I don’t want us to grow apart.”
I squeeze her tighter. “We’re not going to grow apart.”
“But I’m going to be married, and I’ll probably get pregnant soon, and everyone says you change after you’ve had children. I still want to be your sister. I want to hang out and day-drink and talk about boys and stuff.” Words tumble out like she’s opened a cupboard door that’s been filled with a decade’s worth of junk she’s been trying to hide.
“I’m still going to be your sister,” I say.
“But if you get serious with Hunter, you might get married next summer, and then we’ll both be on the same trajectory.”
I try not to choke at the idea of marrying Hunter at any time, but especially a year from now. “We don’t need to be on the same trajectory to be sisters.”
“You know I’m going to become a baby bore, and you’re going to hate coming to visit. And with a baby attached to my boob, I’m not going to be able to come to New York as often.”
“We’ll figure out a new normal,” I say, trying to be reassuring.
“But I don’t want our new normal to be that I never see you. You hate coming to Boston because you have to see Mom, and if I can’t come to New York because of babies, it’s going to make things difficult.”
I think about what Hunter said last night about my mom and pleasing people and lines not to be crossed. “I want us to be the same kind of sisters forever, Katherine. And maybe I’ll just come to Boston and not see Mom.”
Katherine pulls back and looks at me like she must have misheard what I said.
“I don’t have to see hereverytime I’m in Boston.”
“You’d really come to Boston and not see her? She’d ...”
“Combust?” I offer.
“Maybe. Or put a spell on you or something.” She goes quiet for a minute, looking out to the sea. “Sounds like Hunter’s good for you, if you’re all of a sudden willing to stand up to her.”
“Why do you think it’s got anything to do with Hunter?”
“Well, doesn’t it? What else has changed?” Katherine might be right. Our discussion last night about lines in the sand has been turning in my head ever since. Why am I sacrificing for my mother all the time at the expense of my own happiness?
“Maybe I just need to find out exactly what she would do. Anyway, it makes more sense to stay at your place. You have a nicer guest bedroom, and you’re—”
Katherine groans. “Ed wants to move.”
“Move?”
“Closer to the city. He wants to be able to get to work more quickly and have access to the airport to get to New York. He says he doesn’t want to waste time commuting when we have kids, or he won’t get tosee them during the week. We could afford something nice near good schools, and—”
“Oh, God, Katherine. Why haven’t you told me any of this?”
She shakes her head. “Mom’s going to be so mad we’re moving away from Duxbury. She already talks about how she’ll be able to come over and babysit.”
“How do you feel about it?”
