Casting Shadows

Gerard and I were pretty much joined at the hip. We did everything together, whether it was at school or at home. And I was just as attached to him as he was to me. That's why it was both scary and upsetting when things started changing between us.

At first it wasn't even that obvious. It was normal to get into the occasional argument but it never lasted longer than a couple of hours. Then we would apologize to each other and move on. But around the age of eleven, our arguments got more intense and I found myself being more emotional about it which then resulted in being more vicious toward him. We'd both be too stubborn to say sorry and even when he offered me the olive branch, instead of forgiving him instantly, I remained resentful for days. Which of course then annoyed Gerard, making him instigate another argument. I didn't know why I acted the way I did; I knew it was silly and petty most of the time and I became angry at myself for not being able to shake it off. Still, being angry at Gerard was the easiest solution and it made sense since he was the reason I felt like this. But why exactly?

I always wanted to ask him if that's how he felt as well. After our tempers had cooled off and we had made up, we would sit in our tipi in the garden. It was our meeting place, our not so secret hiding place where we would go when we wanted privacy. Originally my dad had set it up just for Gerard as a place he could escape to when things got a little overwhelming or he just wanted to be alone. But soon Gerard had invited me to join him and it had become our exclusive club house and the only place where we could share our secrets and plans comfortably. But all of a sudden I felt tense sitting in there with him and no matter how urgently I wanted to talk to him and know his thoughts while sharing mine with him, it didn't happen. That was frightening. I was so afraid of losing him.

He worried too. And I think that fear and worry of losing each other was what kept us inseparable, despite all the changes between us as we grew older. The awkwardness between boys and girls that began with puberty and never spared us. Becoming more aware of what had happened to him. The fact that talking to each other wasn't as easy as it used to be. The intensity of the emotions and the ensuing bewilderment it caused in both of us whenever it did happen.

One summer evening, as we sat outside on the swing, he straight-out asked me 'Skeeter, why do you think my parents hated me so much?'

I had no idea what to say, I was too shocked by how bluntly he addressed the topic no one, except maybe his therapist, dared to bring up.

'I don't think they hated you. I think they hated themselves and let it out on you.' was all I could say. I remember feeling sick with concern, terrified of saying the wrong thing and upsetting him.

Gerard looked down, dragging the heel of his shoe through the dust in a nervous manner.

'I think it was my fault.'

'It wasn't.'

We sat there in silence and I knew my words did little to change the way he felt, so I took his hand, almost expecting him to pull away. He didn't. Instead he squeezed my hand ever so gently, letting me know it was okay. It had been a while since we had held hands like that and in that moment I realized how much I had missed it. It comforted me, and I wasn't even the one needing comfort. In the four years Gerard had been part of my family, he had come to me for consolation many times but never had he actually expressed his thoughts or feelings about his real parents. Usually it wasn't necessary. And neither was it necessary now yet he decided to do it anyway.

'I would probably be dead by now if I had stayed with them.'

'Don't say that.'

'It's true though.'

'Yes...but I don't want to think about it.'

'Your life would be so much easier without me.'

I looked at him and I could feel the tears stinging in the back of my eyes. I didn't even know why I felt like crying. Was it anger? Or hurt? Was I simply upset because he thought that way? Disturbed and scared that he could disappear one day just to make my life 'easy' again? The emotions I felt in that moment were impossible to explain and while he was sharing these secrets with me, I tried my hardest not to let him find out mine.

'Don't say that.' I repeated, swallowing the lump in my throat.

*

I couldn't help but blame myself every time we fought. Even though deep down I knew how important I was to her and how sincere she was when she said she was glad that I was part of her family, the feeling of being unwanted and unloved was implanted in me and always present. Sometimes not in an obvious way but underlying, ready to feed on my insecurity and anxiety whenever the opportunity was offered. I didn't depend on my foster parents' love but I depended on Skeeter's. Because as insecure and anxious as I felt, she was the only one who made me feel like I wasn't all that bad. Like I was actually loveable. Whenever the doubts and fears resurfaced, she made them disappear again.

And then for some reason I didn't feel like taking her hand was the appropriate thing to do anymore, even though I still wanted to take her hand. So that evening, when she took mine while we sat on the swing, it made something inside my belly feel funny. I should have let go, she should have let go because we were too old for this now. It meant something different now. I had no idea what exactly. Right now, it wasn't important either.

'But it's true.' I mumbled.

'Okay. Maybe it is. But what does it matter? Why are you talking like that? I'm happy you're in my life.' she replied.

I could hear anger in her voice but in this moment I knew that she was trying to cover up the hurt with it. Would I leave? If I found out that it would be better for her if I did, would I do really do it? Would I have the heart to do it?

'I love you.' Skeeter whispered, making me discard my thoughts, which I was grateful for.

'I love you too.' I said without hesitation although I had no idea what it was. Love.

Sure, I loved my family. They had saved my life. They had welcomed me. They had put up with all my tantrums. They provided me with opportunities and encouraged me to take every single one of them. Everything, they were my everything. Skeeter though, she had a special place in my heart. I couldn't imagine my life without her. Even though I was so scared. Of losing her, of hurting her. Of making her unlove me. These days I was so conscious of all my shortcomings, especially in front of Skeeter, and in my mind, there was nothing I could do to fix them. I never told her that because I knew she would feel guilty. After all, she never did anything to make me feel this way.

The arguments only got more intense as we got older. Christian sat me down one night and attempted to explain it to me. Skeeter and I'd had another argument and although I had sat in the tipi for over an hour, she had not left her room. And I'd felt so stupid for waiting for her to come out. Which made me wanna start yet another fight. So Christian told me that it was just what happened, that it was normal, that it would pass. He asked me to be patient and ensured me that it would sort itself out. All siblings fought, especially boys and girls.

I remember how disturbed I felt when he used the word 'siblings'. Because it made me feel awful about wanting to kiss her. She wasn't my real sister, obviously I knew that. But Christian and Tori wanted us to be just like real siblings. They never made a difference and they didn't want us to make it either. There was a difference though.

And it made everything even more complicated.

Notes

As promised, here's another chapter. I hope you liked it. :)