Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Other Titles
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Friday
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- Saturday
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- Sunday
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Monday
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The other one. She’s been reduced to calling her own daughter “the other one.” It’s not that she occupies any less space in Kate’s heart, but she is not as present in her thoughts. Nicki is there, every day. Her sister is not, and that is her choice. Kate can’t remember the last time the other one was home. It’s hard for her to even remember the last time she called. Kate knows nothing about her life; she has never invited Kate to visit, and never provides many details. Kate doesn’t even fully understand her job, although she is proud of her, no matter what she does. Of course she is proud of her. Of course.
Serafina. Her name is Serafina. Finn. How could she ever forget that?
From the time Finn was young, Kate saw so much of herself in her. She seemed so restless, so lost, so out of place in Thunder Bay, and in her own family. For a while Kate tried to be her ally, her co-conspirator, the one she could rely on to understand how she felt. On Saturday nights they would sit in the kitchen at Victor Street and play Scrabble, and Kate would play words that she knew wouldn’t be in the dictionary – she knew Finn loved words, and Kate preferred to foster that love and her imagination, and build Finn’s confidence, rather than win.
“Murple? Come on, Mom. That sounds like something from Dr. Seuss.”
“It did originate with Dr. Seuss, but now it’s a real word. The English language evolves, you know.”
“It’s not a real word just because you say it’s a real word.”
“Sure it is. I bet you even know what it means, if you think about it.”
“A colour that’s right on the edge between maroon and purple?”
“See? If my super-smart daughter knows what it means, it must be real.”
They had so much fun. But Kate assumed that given the choice, her teenaged daughter would rather be out with friends or with a boy than at home with her mother. It was only natural. It was the way things should be. Then one Saturday night, right before they sat down to play, Finn got a phone call. She pulled the phone into the hall while Kate made tea, but her furtive whispering carried through the doorway.
“It sounds like fun,” Kate could hear Finn say. “But I think I’m just going to stay in tonight.” She paused. “Yes, again. I just don’t want to go out, okay?”