Chapter thirteen

The restaurant had gone quiet, that golden lull before the dinner prep started. The staff were gone for their break, and the hum of the fridge filled the silence in my office. I was closing out invoices, half-listening to Cherry recount some story about a client who canceled on her because of  “energy incompatibility.” It made me laugh, the kind of laugh that released some of the tension sitting at the base of my neck.

“You’ve got to stop meeting these crystal men.” I said, shaking my head.

Cherry chuckled. “Oh, please. I should start invoicing them for wasting my time.”

 I smiled faintly, still focused on my screen. “You could make a business out of it.” She gave a low laugh, but it faded quickly. When I looked up, she was fidgeting with the straw in her cup. A sure sign something was on her mind.

“What?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I, uh… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” The change in her tone pulled my attention.

 “Okay…” She sighed, setting the cup down.

 “You remember last week, when you told me Monica was gone?”

 “Yeah.” My stomach tightened.

 “Well,” Cherry began carefully, “she… showed up at my place a couple of nights after that.”

I paused. “What?”

“She was outside my building. Looked wrecked, mascara everywhere, clothes all wrinkled, talking too fast. Said she had nowhere to go. I’m not her biggest fan but I couldn’t just leave her there.”

 I blinked, trying to process. “So she’s been staying with you?”

Cherry nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just for a while. She begged me not to tell you. Said she needed space to ‘figure things out’ before she faced you again.”

 

For a moment, I couldn’t even find words. My hands went cold, my chest tight. I sank back into my chair, my pulse hammering in my ears. A dozen emotions hit me at once. Anger, disbelief, guilt. “She’s been with you this whole time?”

 “I know,” Cherry said quickly. “I should’ve told you. I wanted to. But she seemed so vulnerable, and I didn’t want to make things worse between you two. I figured it was temporary you know? A few nights, maybe a week.”

 “It’s been over a week, Cherry.”  

“I know.” She looked guilty not defensive. “And she’s been… better, I think. She’s still clean, she’s been respectful, even polite. But every time I asked if she’d talked to you, she’d say, ‘Not yet.’ I thought maybe she just needed time to come down from everything.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead, my thoughts spinning.

 “You should’ve told me.”

Cherry said again, softly this time. “I know, I didn’t mean to keep secrets from you. I was trying to do right by both of you.” Silence stretched between us not the angry type but contemplative. I stared at the window, at the pale sunlight, trying to arrange my thoughts.

“Cherry,” I said finally, my voice low. “You know how much I love my sister. You know what it’s cost me to love her. But I can’t keep doing this with her.”

 She  leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Look, I’ll be honest, at first, I wanted to throw her from the window. She’s got that energy… you know, like the world owes her something. She’s entitled, impatient, and she complains about everything. My couch, my cat, the noise from the street.”

 I huffed out a bitter laugh. “That sounds like Monica.”

“But,” Cherry went on, “after a few days, I started to see something else. She’s not just angry. She’s… lost. She’s still traumatized by your mum just disappearing on you two, still grieves your dad. And she feels like you moved on quickly without looking back if she was staying afloat.”

The words hit me like a slap and I felt my throat tighten.

Cherry’s voice softened. “I’m not saying she’s right, Sasha. She’s got a lot of growing up to do. But she’s not heartless. She misses you, even if her pride won’t let her say it. And the truth is, she’s still a kid in a lot of ways. She doesn’t know how to take responsibility, but she does know how to hurt when she feels unloved.”

 I rubbed at my temple, trying to process it all. The office suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. “Why didn’t she just call me?” I finally asked.

Cherry shrugged. “Because she’s ashamed. Because she thinks you’ve moved on and don’t need her presence in your life anymore. She’s just scared of being misunderstood.”

My voice broke, “she never even tried to communicate, she just acted. Caused me so much pain. How could I have understood her?”

 “I get that,” Cherry said quietly. “And honestly, I think she’s starting to understand it too. Because, she’s not the same wild mess she was when she showed up. She’s been talking about you, just… not ready to face you yet. She told me about the things she said to you and she’s ashamed of her actions.”

 I exhaled slowly, tension loosening just a little. “I’m not angry with you. I just… wish you’d told me she was at yours.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the busy  kitchen filling the space between us. Finally, I managed a small, weary smile. “You realize the irony of this right? You always telling me to let her go and she somehow ended up with you. I would never had  imagined her turning up at your door step.”

Cherry chucked. “I know right…meanwhile she’s still a little brat but I think I’ve come to understand her a little bit better.”

I shook my head in surprise. “She opened up to you that much?” I pang of guilt slicing through me.

Cherry just nodded nervously. “Yeah, when she’s ready will you be inclined to give her audience?”

I ran a hand through my hair and nodded grimly.

Hours later, after closing up the restaurant, I called Crest. Letting him know I’d be going back to my apartment. After kicking Monica out, I’d been staying at Crest’s most of the time. Trying to avoid the guilt and void I felt at mine. After Cherry’s surprising revelation today, I just wanted to be alone.

Why couldn’t my own sister open up to me? Was I that self absorbed? So many thoughts circling around my head. I needed to sort through my own emotions before any attempt at a conversation with my sister. My apartment felt colder when I unlocked the door, like it had been waiting for me but wasn’t sure whether to welcome or accuse me. I dropped my keys on the counter and stood there, trying to breathe. Monica’s name still echoed in my head, tangled up with Cherry’s words. She’s not heartless. She misses you.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be justified. God knows I’d earned that right. But underneath all of that, there was something heavier. Despair, maybe. The kind that seeps through the cracks when you start wondering if you’ve misunderstood someone you love. I walked into the living room. The space was spotless, the air faintly perfumed with citrus from the candle I’d left behind. Everything was in order, just the way I liked it. I sank onto the couch, kicking off my shoes. The hum of electronics was the only sound. My hands itched to do something, fold laundry, wipe down the counter, rearrange a shelf anything to drown out the ache in my chest. But I just sat there.

Cherry’s voice wouldn’t leave me. “She copped by self destructing.” I’d never thought of it that way. Maybe because I couldn’t afford to. Back then, when everything was falling apart, Dad’s death, Mom’s leaving, someone had to be the adult. Someone had to pay bills, plan funeral, make sure the lights stayed on. And that someone was me. Was she going to really make me the villain for it? Monica was barely a teenager. She didn’t see the wreckage. She just felt abandoned in it. And maybe… I’d never forgiven her for not being me. That thought hit like a slap.

 I got up, walked to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water I didn’t want, and stared out the window at the city lights. Somewhere out there, she was under the same sky, in Cherry’s apartment, maybe crying, maybe pretending she didn’t care or giving Cherry hell. I hated that I couldn’t tell which one was true. After a while, I went to my bedroom and sat at the edge of the bed. My phone was on the nightstand, face down, silent. I thought about calling her just to hear her voice, to make sure she was okay. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. I’d wait until she was comfortable enough to reach out. Instead, I texted Cherry.

“Thanks for telling me and letting her stay. I’ll figure it out.”

I put the phone away and laid back down.