Page 64 of Saving Graces
“Holy shit,” Cassidy kept saying to her. “Where is this coming from?”
“Oh, you know…” Kinsey trailed off vaguely, unable to explain that when every single part of you wanted someone you could touch but not have, it filled your brain with longing and your lyrics with a solid punch to the guts.
Cassidy narrowed her eyes around the fourth time Kinsey refused to reveal her inspiration.
“You must be getting into some serious sexting with whoever she is right now,” she said. “Because this shit is on fire.”
For Cassidy’s part, her upbeat pop songs seemed to have taken a dive. This was in fact, real country music she was writing now, brooding and melancholy. The songs were impressive; if there were a writing gene then both the sisters seemed to have it. Kinsey loved what her bandmate was coming up with but it made her concerned for her friend.But try as she might though to get Cassidy to talk about it, her bandmate was equally cagey.
“Just getting my angst out. ” Casssidy said it like a jest, but her eyes lost a little of their sparkle every passing day.
Between the two of them the collection of songs in the ‘keep’ pile grew at a steady rate. This vacation, it seemed, was all kinds of productive.
They took a break one afternoon early into their second week in Vermont. The snow was cascading down in impressive flurries, a small blizzard keeping everyone indoors. Brynn and Savannah looked a little ragged, as was Tucker, their youngest family member restless at night. Tucker was so cranky at lunch that Lane wrangled him off to bed for a nap and everyone else ended up flopped on sofas in the living room or, like Kinsey, at the windows watching the snow fall outside.
Brynn eventually snapped on the television and started flicking through movies.
“Wait,” she said, “I’ve got it. A vastly underrated cinematic masterpiece. Perhaps the best film ever made.”
“Josie and the Pussycats?” Cassidy asked, incredulous. Rosalie’s head snapped up from her book.
“Yes!” she said, her green eyes going bright. “Dumped on by old male film critics and adored by girls and women everywhere.”
“Sounds about right,” said Savannah, setting big bowls of popcorn on each coffee table, making the room smell like a real movie theater. “Looks ridiculous. I’m in.”
“Josie and the Pussycats?” Rosalie frowned at Savannah, a small wrinkle forming between her red brows. “Come on,” Rosalie pressed, “it was Rachel’s favorite movie. She had it on DVD and watched it like, every other week.”
“I don’t remember,” Savannah said, with a slightly apologetic smile.
Rosalie raised her eyebrows. “DuJour means friendship. DuJour means seatbelts.”
Savannah looked lost. “What?”
“She quoted it basically every day. Remember? Who’s a rock star? She’d say that literally anytime anyone was in a bad mood.”
“I’m sorry,” Savannah said, with a little head shake. “I don’t remember.” Rosalie’s face fell and Savannah quickly added,“I’m sure it’ll come back to me as we watch it.”
Brynn clicked the remote and the movie started.
Kinsey wasn’t really in the mood for a film. She stayed at the window, gazing out at the snow, watching the drifts pile up. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Eventually, though, as always, her eyes drifted to steal a peek at Rosalie. She frowned. Everyone else was chuckling at the screen, but it looked like Rosalie was fighting back tears. A minute later, she got up and left the room.
Savannah made to get up and go after Rosalie, then she paused. She glanced at Kinsey. For a second, they just looked at each other, until Savannah shifted, deliberately leaning back into the couch. With the slightest nod, she gestured for Kinsey to go.
Everyone else focused on the movie, Kinsey slipped away unnoticed. Rosalie was halfway up the stairs already, her movements a little slow like she was dragging herself through deep water. Kinsey caught up with her just before she got to her room and Rosalie turned around.
Her eyes were slightly red and she flinched a little when she saw Kinsey. A small sharp breath escaped her as Kinsey took her hand and pulled her into the bedroom.
“I didn’t leave for that-” Rosalie protested, pulling her hand back. Kinsey closed the door behind them.
“I know,” she said quietly. “Me either. I came for this.”
Gently, she pulled Rosalie into her arms to hold her. Rosalie stood there stiffly for a few seconds, not responding, as if she were tolerating the embrace, willing it to be over. Kinsey didn’t shift. Rosalie pressed her face harder into Kinsey’s shoulder and began to cry. Kinsey held her tight and let her.
“Hey,” she murmured, holding Rosalie tight even as her tears soaked her t-shirt. “I’ve got you.”
When her tears stopped - all of a minute later - Rosalie pulled back sharply. She turned, quickly, disappearing into her bathroom. Kinsey stood still, her arms empty, listening to the sound of Rosalie blowing her nose and running the tap, trying to clean up. When she finally reappeared, her face was set firmly, her eyes red and her neck blotched with emotion.
“It’s so stupid of me,” Rosalie said, avoiding Kinsey’s eyes. “It was just a dumb little thing. I’m fine. Please. You should go watch the movie.” Kinsey didn’t move and Rosalie gave her a quick, almost glare. “Seriously, I’m just going to take a nap or something. You can go, it’s fine.”
