Taryn’s choice of words didn’t go unnoticed. Over the past few weeks, she had consistently given Taryn permission, and she’d given herself permission too. Every time they’d met up or talked on the phone or video-called, she’d allowed herself to be open and vulnerable in a way she’d never done with anyone. Her therapist had been impressed, especially with the boat trip story. If Cassie ever got on Taryn’s motorbike, she was sure her therapist would have a coronary.
“First, I should thank you for all the lovely flattery—”
“It’s not flattery when it’s true.”
Cassie tilted her head slightly. “Then I should thank you for all those lovely compliments. It’s nice to be thought of that way, I’ll admit that much.” She ran her finger over the rim of her glass, not quite able to maintain eye contact with Taryn’s intense gaze. “And secondly, you’re right, and it took you way less time than my therapist to figure it out.”
“Were you as honest with them as you have been with me?”
Cassie rolled her eyes and slapped Taryn’s forearm gently. “You don’t know me,” she said, although her mock petulance was more a response to the dawning realization that actually, yes, Taryn did know her, and Cassie had actively encouraged that to happen.
“I never asked how your visit went last week…” Taryn tucked her leg onto the seat so she could sit sideways to face Cassie properly.
Cassie inhaled deeply and released her breath slowly. If only she could relinquish her mother’s toxicity so easily. “It was horrible, and not because I cut myself and needed nine stitches.” She raised her other hand to show Taryn. It was healing nicely; Rachel’s handiwork was impressive, and there would be no scar. Taryn lowered her head and kissed the wound. It would’ve been a comforting and tender gesture had she not then looked up at Cassie with a particularly filthy look on her face. Cassie pulled her hand away and tutted. “You’reincorrigible.”
“You’rewelcome.” Taryn smiled, but her expression quickly turned serious again. “What made the visit horrible?”
“My mom.” It was a simple and brutally honest answer. It was the only one Cassie could offer. “Everything about her: the way she talks to me, and the things she talks to me about. The judgment. The entitlement. The complete and utter self-deception. Her victim complex.” She thought of poor Buster, and how he’d looked at her. If he could’ve begged her to take him away from it all, Cassie was sure he would have. She remembered Taryn’s story of her first dog and the tag she carried with her everywhere. She would likely be unimpressed with her mother’s treatment and lack of care for him.
She looked up at Taryn, who hadn’t spoken or attempted to prompt her to more words when Cassie had disappeared into her own head, into the dark silence she got so used to inhabiting as a child. “The only good thing was Buster.”
Taryn’s eyes lit up. “A dog?” The luminance flickered and faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I have the feeling she shouldn’t have a dog.”
Cassie shook her head slowly and sipped her champagne. “He’s a boxer—an out of shape boxer because the only exercise he gets is loping around the yard. And that’s if she lets him out.”
Taryn clenched her jaw. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have pets. Is she nice to him?”
Cassie’s harsh laugh grated on her own ears. “I don’t think she’s nice to anybody. Although she says she has a new man in her life, and she certainly seems eager to please him.”
“Was he there?” Taryn asked quietly.
“Thankfully not. And he had the new car I supposedly bought.” She shrugged. “Could be that thereisno new car, and she blew that money on something else entirely.”
Taryn glanced at Cassie’s hand. “I want to ask how you ended up with a sliced open hand, but I’m beginning to think that the answer might have me jumping on my bike to go confront your mom.”
Cassie smiled. No one had ever come to her defense like that before or been so concerned for her health. The sting of Taryn’s inevitable departure struck again. How was it that the one person who genuinely seemed to care for her would never consider sticking around to keep doing it? “I did it to myself. I’m afraid there’s no story there, though I do like the thought of you being my knight in shining armor, much to the chagrin of my inner feminist.”
Taryn narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “What happened?”
“I was trying to make coffee, and I slammed the glass jug in rather viciously. It didn’t stand up to the rugged test.” She smiled but knew it was weak and would do little to persuade Taryn.
“You don’t strike me as someone who slams things around, but I guess we don’t know each other that well yet…”
Yet… As if Taryn might spend more time overcoming that hurdle.“My mom mentioned my brother—used my brother to criticize me.” Cassie offered a small shrug. “I didn’t take it well.” She lifted her injured hand and twisted it this way and that. “It did give me a great excuse to leave though, so it wasn’t all bad.”
Taryn took Cassie’s her hand and tracked her finger around the stitches. “Can I ask you something? And it’s obviously fine if you don’t want to answer.”
“Sure.” They’d already delved into serious territory; how much deeper could they get?
“Okay… And I’m asking without any judgment at all,” Taryn said. “I’m just interested because I can’t see myself in your position.”
“Out with it. You’re building it up too much.” Cassie waved her free hand, her nerves jangling on the edges of her laugh.
“Why do you stay in touch and keep going back to her?” Taryn pressed her lips together, as if to keep related questions from tumbling out.
“You mean, why keep subjecting myself to continued emotional abuse now that I’m a fully grown woman and don’t need my mom for anything, not that she was any good at that stuff when I was a kid either?”
Taryn nodded but said nothing else.
