Cloud Walking

and then hung up. I was left holding my phone, feeling like an idiot. I had my own work to do. So why was I planning to spend my evening helping Daniel with his? Oh that's right, because where he was concerned, my backbone ceased to exist.

    I heaved myself off the couch and looked over at my sister. “You hungry?” I asked her. She gave me a nod, not taking her eyes from the TV. What sort of childhood was that? Stuck in front of the television or playing video games? I hated that our mom never had time to spend with her. I didn't begrudge my mother the fact that she worked so hard to keep us housed and clothed. I knew she was exhausted and fed up with the way things were. I helped out where I could, having found myself a job at the movie store in downtown Davidson so I could afford clothes and stuff for school.

    But there was that part of me that was resentful all the same. It wasn't my fault that my mom had made poor decisions when it came to the men she let in her life. But here we were, years later and I was taking care of her responsibilities. I loved Kaitlyn...but I wasn't her mother. And the fact that I was so often given the unofficial role, was frustrating.

    For the first five years of my life, I remember an active and involved parent. Mom made cookies, attended parent/teacher conferences, signed me up for little league soccer. Before my dad took off, we were somewhat of a normal and functional family.

    Then dad had left and Mom met Kaitlyn's father, Samuel. Samuel was not a nice guy. I never liked him. Even in the early days when he tried to butter me up with treats and presents. There was always something off about him. And as it turned out, I was right. He was an abusive prick. Though he never laid a hand on me, I remember him yelling at Mom a lot. Their fights were loud and violent, often resulting in broken dishware and holes in the walls. I knew he had hit my mom. She tried to cover the bruises, but they were there all the same. It had gotten worse after Kaitlyn was born and the jerk finally left two years ago. Six years too late, if you ask me.

    But Mom hadn't taken it well. Because then she was stuck with all the responsibility of being both parents. And unfortunately, Kaitlyn got the shaft. I tried to do as much as I could, but it could never replace what she was missing. And Kaitlyn never wasted an opportunity to remind me that I had no real authority over her, especially when I was trying to enforce some sort of rule.

    Kaitlyn was eight going on eighteen. She wore clothing way too old for her and fought with Mom about letting her wear make-up. I didn't relate to her on any level. She and I were so completely different; it was amazing that we shared a gene pool.

    I couldn't remember being so obsessed with clothes and boys when I was eight flipping years old. I was pretty girlie now, I could admit that. I liked being cute and pretty and I loved to shop. But that hadn't kicked in until I was at least twelve. I felt like Kaitlyn had been that way since the womb. She came into the world demanding skinny jeans and tight shirts. It was just weird.

    I went into the kitchen and threw two pizzas into the oven. If Daniel was coming over, I definitely had to be prepared. That boy could eat me out of house and home. I straightened up the living room while I waited for the pizzas to cook.

    “Daniel's on his way over to study. After dinner, you need to get ready for bed and do your homework,” I told my sister. She perked up at the mention of Daniel. She had had a crush on him for years now. Okay, so maybe I could see that we were related. Our mutual love and awe of Daniel Lowe clearly showed a propensity for heartbreak and ill-placed devotion in our blood.

    “Okay. Can I help you get dinner together?” Kaitlyn offered, to my surprise. But I realized it was due to her excitement over our impending company. Well, whatever the reason, I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

    “Sure, go get the plates and napkins together. We'll just eat at the coffee table,” I told her, stacking up magazines and putting them on the bookshelf. Our house was old, built in the late 1800s and it felt it. There was a constant draft and no matter how much you cleaned it, it always felt dusty. The one bathroom we had, smelled of must and mildew. I wished we could move, but the rent was cheap.

    There was a knock at the door a short while later and Kaitlyn bounded over to answer it. Daniel stood there, a huge grin on