Names My Sisters Call Me by Names My Sisters Call Me (mobi)

Author:Names My Sisters Call Me (mobi)
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-04T18:19:29+00:00

That was the part that I kept returning to as I walked toward home.

I had never thought of Raine in that way. It was hard to do so now, but there was something in me that thought Verena was right. I kept going over my time in San Francisco, looking for clues. Raine had, after all, decided where and when we would talk. She’d run that conversation, and when it got uncomfortable she’d ended it. She’d also minimized our contact. Made me take a yoga class, insisted we meet where she wanted to meet. The only difference between Raine and Norah was that I’d wanted to do what Raine wanted me to do, for the most part. Was it controlling then? Or something else?

Not that it mattered. What mattered was that I was so incredibly naïve and controllable, according to Verena, that everyone took advantage of me. Raine, Matt, Norah. I couldn’t help thinking that if I wasn’t so malleable, none of these things would be happening.

I didn’t think of myself as naïve. But who did? Maybe naïve was like crazy in that way—those who were never thought they were. Unfortunately, that left me with few options for ceasing to be naïve. It was like the wedding stuff—I didn’t know where to start. As far as I knew, I couldn’t pop into Target to pick up some healthy cynicism and a clue. Of course, I didn’t know where to start shopping for my wedding, either, so as far as I knew wasn’t all that far.

My phone buzzed in my pocket then, a happy diversion. I looked at the display to read BLOCKED ID. This usually meant Verena was calling from her work phone.

“I thought you had to get to work,” I said without saying hello, assuming she was calling to apologize for being harsh, as she had been known to do on occasion. Or to discuss the latest photos posted on Go Fug Yourself, which she did far more often.

“Hi, Courtney,” Raine sang at me. “Oops, did you think I was someone else?”

“Oh,” I said, thrown. Did that sound naïve? I tried to sound stern and tough. “No. I mean, yes, obviously.” So much for that. “How are you?”

“You know what?” She laughed a little bit. “I’m good. But I think I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” I wished that hadn’t come out like a question. It felt like I was proving Verena’s point.

“Well,” Raine said, “I don’t think I showed you how delighted I was to see you again. I’m sorry about that. I guess I was more thrown by your sudden reentry into my life than I wanted to admit.”

That had not been what I was expecting. In my memory, Raine had never apologized. She was Raine. She didn’t have to. It occurred to me to wonder why that was so, when I’d always felt compelled to apologize for everything, but I brushed it aside.

“I did just show up on your doorstep,” I reminded her.

“But it’s all fine,”

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