were starting at the beginning. They said it was a good place to start, but not for me.
“My parents were both drug addicts. Meth heads. They had a lab in our basement. Trish and I used to play with some of the equipment. It’s a miracle the place didn’t blow up. There were always people coming and going and I remember not eating a whole lot. Dad split pretty early on and Mom was high or drunk or both most of the time.”
I’d been prepared for her sharp intake of breath.
“Then she got busted so we bounced around for a few years. First to our relatives, no matter how distant they were. We switched schools and states. I had to teach Trish how to read and do math because of how many times we moved.” One of the worst places had been with our Mom’s brother and his wife. He took a liking to Trish and I had to beat him off her one night with a baseball bat. I also tried to kill myself for the second time in that house by swallowing a bunch of aspirin, but it made me sick and I’d just ended up in the hospital and we’d gotten moved to a new home afterward. I didn’t give Katie those details. She didn’t need them and I didn’t want to give them to her.
“Then, when we’d exhausted all our relatives’ hospitality, we got put in the foster care system. After that it was just a merry-go-round of houses. Some were good, some were bad, but we left all of them eventually. Our last one was especially bad, so when I turned eighteen I got custody of Trish. Despite moving so much I had really good grades, so I got into college and even though I didn’t look responsible, they let me have her. We had a social worker that went up to bat for us. Trish finished up high school and then enrolled here. We fought like cats and dogs, so as soon as she could, she moved out. Fast forward a few years and here we are.”
Katie sipped her coffee through my story and put the empty mug down when I finished.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Stryker. I had no idea.” No, but she’d had her own crosses to bear.
“Everybody goes through hard shit in their lives. It’s how you deal with it that determines what kind of person you are.”
She picked at the edge of the blanket. “What kind of person am I?”
“You’re a girl who’s been trying to be something she’s not for her whole life and it finally stopped working for you. Now you’ve got a chance to be who you really are.”
“Who is that?” She brought her knees up under the blanket and put her chin on them.
“A girl who does makeovers for her friends and puts on a brave face for them, and cares so much about people that she can’t even see it.” There was a hell of a lot more than that, but that was enough for now.
“Is that what you see when you look at me?”
“I also see a lot of pink,” I said, leaning back and putting my arm around her, hoping she wouldn’t bite my hand off for doing so.
“I really like pink.” She brought her head up and moved her face closer to mine.
“I know,” I said, moving until our faces were only a millimeter apart.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head back and forth.
“I should go. Thanks for…all that.”
“You’re going to leave me after I unburdened my soul?” I said, clutching my chest. “I’m hurt, Katie.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up, handing me back my blanket.
“You’ll get over it. See you later.”
I got up and caught her before she got all the way out the door.
“I don’t know if this fits into the “things we’re not supposed to do” category, but do you want to come over tonight? I’m having some friends over to have a session and I would like to invite you to come. As a friend.” I didn’t stop to think about the consequences of inviting her to hang out with my friends. If I did, I probably wouldn’t have invited her. Too late now.
She toyed with her keys. “A friend? Is that what I am?”
“I told you, you can be whatever you want to be.” She leaned in the doorway.
“I guess I can be your friend. If you want me to be.”
“I