Kissing Frogs

by Kim Deister

  I sat in bed looking down at Mac’s text message. I had been conscious for all of a minute or two and I was having trouble remembering why my sister would be apologizing to me. And then it hit me. Crap. The day from hell that was yesterday.

  My sister could be temperamental. Everyone knew that. And she definitely suffered from Oldest Child Syndrome sometimes, but she wasn’t usually mean. Bossy and a little bit holier-than-thou sometimes, but not cruel. Nor did her moods usually flip-flop as much as hers were lately.

  Something had been off with her for the last couple of weeks. One moment she was fine, the next minute she was mad as hell. Sniping at me, at Tom, at everyone around her. Nobody had been able to do anything right. I’d asked her about it over and over again, but I always got the same answer. She was fine. Needless to say, no one believed her. But you could only ask so many times before you sounded like a crazy stalker sister.

  I kept trying to tell myself that the stick up her butt the day before wasn’t personal, that I was just an easy target. Her attitude was too over the top to be just because of my lack of love for Matt. But if she wasn’t going to come clean, what was I supposed to do? Smile as she walked all over me? Not going to happen, especially not after two weeks of her bitchiness. And now she was sending me apology messages. What the hell? The woman was giving me emotional whiplash.

  I stared at the phone in my hand for a long time. My finger hovered over Mac’s name in my speed dial list, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. Indecision sucked. I loved my sister and I wanted to understand what was going on with her, but I was still pissed. She had said some nasty things, the kind of things that were pretty hard to take back once they were out there. An apology was a great start, but it didn't explain a damn thing.

  But brooding about it wasn’t helping. This is ridiculous. I shoved myself out of bed and went downstairs as I thought about it. I needed to put on my big girl panties and just call her. I didn’t give myself a chance to second guess it and tapped her name. Her phone rang… outside my front door. I followed the sound of her unreasonably loud ring tone and opened the door. There she was, standing on my porch, digging through her purse for her phone. She was so intent on finding it that she didn’t notice me standing in front of her. For a short, passive-aggressive moment, I thought about letting her dig. But I reminded myself that I was wearing my big girl panties and ended the call. She looked up at me in surprise when I spoke.

  “Don’t bother. It’s just me.”

  I waved her inside and we stood there looking at each other. I should have known she would show up. One thing you could say about my sister… once she finally realized she was wrong about something, she didn’t hesitate to fix it. But if she had pulled this yesterday, I couldn’t have promised a peaceful resolution. I still wasn't sure I could guarantee that.

  “So, what do you want, Mac? To yell at me some more?”

  My questions were a lot more obnoxious than I intended and my words hit their mark. Mac flinched as if I’d slapped her. She hung her head, but not before I saw her flush. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall under the stairs, inching away from her. It occurred to me that the move was more of a preventative measure. I was still angry and hurt, but part of me just wanted to hug her and let the whole mess go.

  When she sighed, I heard her breath catch a little. It wasn’t like Mac to be nervous, so it surprised me. It surprised me even more when she finally spoke and her voice wavered.

  “I’m not here to yell at you or to fight with you. I promise. I know I screwed up, Cass. In a big way. And not just with you, if it makes you feel better. Tom and Kyra aren’t real happy with me, either, although for different reasons.”

  “Why are they mad at you?”

  “Well, your niece worships you, so she's mad on your behalf. And Tom's pissed because he thinks I didn't trust him enough to tell him something I should have.”

  “What didn’t you tell him?” I waited for her to tell me to mind my own business. She wasn’t always big on sharing, although she was big on me telling her everything.

  “It’s a long story and part of the reason I’m here. The bottom line is that I messed up. So, I won’t blame you if you tell me to get out.”

  “Oh, calm down, Mac. Let’s not be overdramatic about it. I’m not going to throw you out,” I snapped. My big girl panties slipped and I was snarky. I sighed and tried again. “Coffee?”

  She nodded and followed me into the kitchen. My mind was racing as I pulled down a couple mugs, sliding one across the counter to her. It wasn’t like us to be so quiet and it was awkward. We were still silent as she followed me into the living room. As soon as I curled up on the couch, Luna hopped into my lap and snuggled into my chest. Maybe she was finally learning. This time she didn't betray me and throw herself at Mac like she usually did the moment she saw her. That earned her a few extra cuddles and kisses for the moment of loyalty.

  Mac sat down in the chair farthest from the couch. Not even the comfy easy chair, but the old-fashioned wing chair I kept for looks rather than comfort. She was working the “whipped puppy dog” thing, although I couldn’t decide if it was an act or not.

  The moment of awkward silence stretched out until it was almost unbearable. I knew it was petty, but I let it play out. She started this, so she could finish it. I watched her in silence, snuggling with my crazy dog. She had to feel my eyes on her, but she refused to look at me. Instead, she fidgeted in her chair, twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger. She compulsively picked up her coffee and set it back down without a single sip. Like the attitude at Kyra’s party, this whole nervous thing was completely out of character. It made me even more certain that something big was going on.

  The silence was deafening, the only sounds Luna’s snores and snuffles. It was driving me insane and I had to bury my face in Luna’s neck to avoid giving in. Finally, after a deep, but stuttered breath, MacKenzie broke the silence. The room was so quiet that, even as soft as it was, the sound of her voice startled me.

  “I’m sorry, Cass. I’m know I’ve been a bitch to you a lot lately. Hell, I’ve been a bitch to everyone lately.” She smiled tentatively, but the smile faded when she saw that I wasn’t moved by her self-deprecation.

  ‘I can’t argue with that. Why exactly have you been all over me lately?"

  “I have absolutely no good reason,” she paused and rubbed a hand over her face. “The truth is that it’s all me. I guess I’ve been jealous.”

  What? “Of me? Why the hell would you be jealous of me?” That shocked me and I forgot about being annoyed. I was just confused. Mac had a great job she loved, an amazing husband and daughter, and a house that most people would kill to have. She frequently gave me crap for not using my degree, so why she’d be envious was beyond me. It was a real question, but when she spoke again, I didn't get a thoughtful answer. Instead, she tore into me.

  “Because you have your whole damn life in front of you, Cass! But instead of living it, it seems like all you want to do is hide from it. Take it from me, little sister. You never know how long you really have. Life can change in an instant and all that time you thought you had? It’s gone. You've got to stop being afraid of moving on with your life. I’m sick and tired of watching you waste it.”

  I reared back as if she’d hit me. “What the hell, Mac? Is this your lame ass idea of an apology? Because if it is, it sucks."

  "Whatever. I'm right and you know it."

  "No, Mac. You’re not right. First of all, I’m not hiding, no matter what you and Mom seem to think. Second, I’m not scared of moving on. I have moved on and I’m damn sick of having to repeat myself. Just because I’m not trying to marry every guy I meet doesn’t mean I’m still hung up on Luke. I promise you. And, third… do you really think I don’t know that life throws curve balls? Hello? Did you forget I was left at the altar?” I ranted, every last bit of frustration in my voice. “I'm so fucking sick of you and Mom yelling at me for wasting my li
fe. How am I wasting it? Because I don't have a man? When the hell did you two become such anti-feminists? Whether you want to see it or not, I’m happy and doing exactly what I want."

  I really didn’t want to get in yet another argument with my sister, even if we were already halfway there. Something told me that, even with her fighting words, this wasn’t the time. My voice was calmer when I tried again.

  “Look, Mac. I don’t want to fight with you, but I don’t understand what’s going on. You can’t tell me that all the attitude is because of my lack of desire to walk down the aisle, especially with a guy like Matt. The guy was a complete ass and there isn't a damn thing you could say that would make me believe that yesterday had anything to do with him. You can't possibly think that he could ever be the man of my dreams."

  She made a noise that was somewhere between a snort, a giggle, and sniffle. “Yeah, I admit it. The guy’s an ass. Pretty, but an ass. If it makes you feel better, Tom read him the riot act after we left. So did Dad.”

  Actually, that did make me feel a little better. But I would have felt even better about it if Mac had been the one to tell him off. Or better yet, if she had weeded him out before foisting him on me.

  “We’ve established that the stick up your ass has nothing to do with Matt. So, what is it then? Did I do something I don’t know about? Did Tom?”

  She sighed and it sounded like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. For the first time, it struck me how pale she was. Her skin looked more green than tan and I could see the tears in her eyes. That’s all it took for me to realize that this wasn’t some stupid argument. Mac didn’t cry, not unless it was something big.

  “C’mon, Mac. ‘Fess up,” I begged. A thought occurred to me and I hoped I was wrong. “Mac, did Tom cheat on you? Did you cheat on him?” It was the only thing I could think of that would make her this upset, short of someone dying.

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s nothing anyone did. It’s about me. Look, there’s something I need to tell you and you aren’t going to like it.”

  Mac’s words didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. So, if cheating had nothing to do with her nuttiness, what was it? Was one of them sick? Had something else happened to Mac that I didn’t know about? I couldn’t take the silence this time.

  “Just tell me. Put me out of my misery because my imagination is taking me to dark places.”

  After a long pause, she finally met my eyes. Her words, when they came, were so soft I barely heard them.

  “They think I may have breast cancer.”

  For a moment, I had no reaction other than to stare at her in shock. I repeated her words over and over again in my head, trying to make sense of them. I had to have heard her wrong. But she had said exactly what I thought she had said and it was the last thing I ever expected to hear. I knew I should be saying something, but my poor overwhelmed brain froze. What could you possibly say that would mean anything or fix anything? There was no Hallmark card for moments like this.

  “Say something, Cass, please,” Mac begged me as I stared at her. Emotions swirled inside my head and I didn’t know how to sort them out into anything coherent. Nothing I’d been mad about seemed to matter anymore now that I knew the truth. Everything about the last few weeks fell into place… why she’d been so testy and why she’d been so quick to jump all over me.

  I set Luna on the floor and moved to kneel on the floor in front of my sister. I looked up and her face was blurry through the veil of tears in my own eyes.

  “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not just you, Cass. I didn’t tell anyone. Not until last night when Tom basically forced it out of me. Just Tom and now you.”

  “But why? You know that any one of us would have been there for you. There’s no reason for you do this alone.”

  “Yeah, I know. I kept telling myself that I didn’t want to make you worry until I knew there was actually something to worry about. But…” Her voice trailed away and she looked out the window.

  “But what, Mac?”

  She turned back to face me, the words bursting out of her in a rush. “But talking about it makes it real. And, yeah, I know how stupid that sounds.”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid. It is what it is. But, Mac, you and I both know that ignoring it isn’t going to help.”

  “What? You don’t think I’ve handled it okay on my own the last few weeks?” She smiled ruefully, sounding more like herself.

  “Well, now that I know that there was a legitimate reason for the ‘tude, I think you did handle it pretty well. But, look. Now that we know, you need to let us be there for you. I know you’re big on being a strong, independent chick and all, but sometimes even the badasses need someone to have their back.”

  She rolled her eyes and I knew things were as okay as they could be. I grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the couch. We sat like we always did when it was time for serious conversation. Curled into either end of the couch with our feet entangled.

  “So, what’s the deal? And this time, tell me the truth. All of it.”

  “A few weeks ago, I found a spot in my left boob while I was in the shower. Right in the cleavage. At first, it just felt like a bruise, not that I could figure out how I could get a bruise there. But when I really felt it, there was a lump.”

  “How big?”

  “Big enough. The size of a marble maybe. Anyway, I went to the doctor a couple days later and they did scans. The doc saw three or four others deeper in that I couldn’t feel and it was enough that he didn't want to wait. So, I got them out a week later and they were sent to the lab in Syracuse. I’m supposed to get the results the week after next, but they’re pretty sure they already know.” She stopped speaking, looking down at our feet. “So, that’s why I’ve been crazy nuts the last few weeks.”

  It took me a minute to process what she said. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that you’ve already had them out?” She nodded, avoiding my eyes. “What the hell, Mac? You had surgery without telling me, without telling your husband? Did you ever stop to think that maybe we’d want to be there for you?”

  She sniffled before she answered. “And now you know why Tom’s pissed. He thinks I didn’t trust him. But that wasn’t why I didn’t tell him. Or you.”

  “I get that. I do. But, damn, Mac. He's got a right to be pissed. I’m pissed.”

  “Yeah, I know. I screwed up.”

  I wanted to reach over and shake some sense into my sister. Her pride was frustrating as all hell. But I didn’t think it would do a whole lot of good, so I let it go.

  “No more secrets?”

  “No more secrets.”

  The next couple of weeks were rough. Whatever anger and hurt I’d felt toward MacKenzie was long forgotten. Instead, I went back and forth between complete numbness and overwhelming worry. And if there was ever anything I was especially skilled at, it was worry.

  Dark moments came out of nowhere and slapped me in the face. Those were the times when I couldn’t stop my mind from going to places I didn’t want it to, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t handle the thought of life without my big sister. And making it even harder was the fact that Mac had put Tom and I on radio silence. She wouldn’t let us tell anyone and not having anyone to talk to about Mac was driving me even battier than usual.

  It made me think, too, about my own life. Some of the things Mac said to me really hit me, even if she’d said them in anger. I wasn’t still hung up on Luke, but maybe she wasn’t wrong about the rest of it. Maybe I had let myself get too cynical. My love life was like the tundra and I had been blaming the guys I met, as well as Operation Marry Cassidy. But as much as I hated to admit it, some of it was my fault, too. The stark reality of what Mac might be facing was a wake-up call. Life was short and I needed to get my head out of my ass.

  Having this damn frog around didn't help either. His presence in my moment of stress forced me to spend even more time thinki
ng about the sorry state of my life. More than once, a lot more than once, I found myself talking to the creature that always seemed to be watching me. I wasn’t just saying hello as I passed by his terrarium. No, I was having full-on conversations with the damn thing and it didn’t stop with the frog. I even tried to include Luna in these conversations, although she was far more interested in sleep and chasing her own tail than deep, philosophical conversation.

  I tried very hard to lie to myself about this situation. I told myself that it was only because Mac wouldn’t let me talk to anyone else. But in my less guarded moments, it was hard to keep lying to myself. I was lonelier than I cared to admit and that wasn’t something I’d paid much attention to until my sister read me the riot act.

  Since my studio was in my attic, I didn’t always get out much and that didn’t really open up the opportunities for romantic interaction. Sometimes, the only time I saw other human beings was when I went to the grocery store or the post office. And I didn’t spend a whole lot of time socializing in either of those places. Until Melvin had become a guest of the New York State Department of Corrections, I spent most of my time in the grocery store watching my six instead of scoping out potential mates.

  Not that I was ever particularly motivated to socialize with the opposite gender. Operation Marry Cassidy hadn’t upped the motivation, either. It was a hell of a lot simpler to keep to myself and do my damnedest to avoid entanglements altogether. And now I realized that maybe those things had become easy excuses for me to avoid actually living life. I did not want to think that perhaps Mac was right.

  How can I even think about this right now? Mac might be dying and I was ruminating about my love life? What the hell kind of sister was I? I felt guilty as hell for thinking about myself, but it was hard not to. I just couldn’t shake her words, nor the effect they’d had on me. And I knew that Mac, even with the stress of everything else, would be doing cartwheels of gratification if she knew what I was thinking. Of course, those cartwheels would likely be accompanied with a neverending chorus of “I told you so.” But she’d still be happy that I was halfway to getting my head out of my butt.