If At First

Part 2 - Chapter 1

Andy was the only one who could get away with calling me Tabby-Kat – a nickname he had given me when we were younger because my formal name is Tabitha Kathryn. My nickname for him, "snotface!", wasn't nearly as cuddly. He looked down expectantly, his arm around my shoulder.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I hate moving."

"Everyone hates moving."

"Well, it's not like you needed me around here." They didn't. Andy had been away at school, and now that the twins had their licenses, they could drive themselves to their respective activities. I knew this when my father begged me to come home, but it didn't detract from feeling a sense of duty.

We sat in the living room; Andy in the recliner and I in my spot on the couch that was perfectly threadbare after years of tent-building and acrobatic launchings. We talked the way old friends do, as though we'd never finished a conversation from the last time we were together, when it occurred to me that the house was unnaturally quiet.

"Where are the boys? Where's dad?" I asked belatedly, not remotely hurt at the small reception.

"Sam and Nick had a game and dad was trying to get some groceries in the house before you got here so you'd think one of us cooks. They'll be home soon and we can order pizza." He looked down and began guiltily twisting a piece of fringe on the pillow in his lap.

"What? What's your problem?" I asked.

"Uh...." He sighed and hesitated, keeping his eyes on the pillow. "I sort of, should probably tell you... I didn't know you were coming back and I claimed your bedroom. But I figured I might as well free up the den down here if there was an empty room upstairs!" He winced and steadied himself for my wrath.

"You act like I'm gonna bite your head off. I don't care, I can sleep on the fold-out." As much as I detested that lumpy couch in my dad's study, there was no way I could deny my brother his completely rational request. For years he'd been forced to share a room with the twins. I didn't know how long I would be here, and he needed his own space. Andy exhaled, relieved, and we resumed our conversation, catching up on the details of our lives.

Dad, Sam and Nick came bounding through the door moments later. The twins ran to me instantly, each hugging a different side like they did when they were younger and reeking of a locker room, chanting Tabby-dabby-doo! They were both taller than me now but not nearly as big as Andy. Nick was fair-haired, with green eyes like mine, and was slight – sort of gangly, where Sam was husky with darker hair like Andy. They took turns picking me up and spinning around until I finally freed myself from their hold to find my dad standing in the living room doorway. He watched us, arms full of groceries, smiling at our affectionate reunion.

"Hi baby." He said, looking gratified. I crossed the room in three bouncing strides to give him a warm hug before taking the groceries into the kitchen.

That evening my dad and I sat together on the couch. "How've you been, sweetie?" He asked. "Wasn't Dakota treating you well?"

"Don't start acting all innocent," I smiled, "You know exactly why I'm home." He started to argue, but stopped before he said anything and returned a guilty shrug. He looked at me for a long moment and seemed to lose himself in thought. "You look so much like your mom." He said unexpectedly.

I blinked, studying my hands. "That's...just not true."

My mother Charlotte, or "Charlie" as she was known because my grandfather had wanted a son, was stunning. Not like stick-your-finger-in-a-socket-stunning, more like shooting-star-stunning. She had a fragile beauty about her that made you want to stare. People always compared her to Grace Kelly. I never knew precisely who that was, but imagined it was probably a good thing. One day I'll remember to Google it. I, on the other hand did not possess such qualities. I could agree to sharing her light-colored hair, but that was about the extent of it. My reflection never returned anything more than ordinary.