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I should have asked Father Donnivan what he meant, instead of deciding the story's meaning for myself. The gloomy gaze of the statue of Jesus on the daïs was making it hard to think, but then, if I had asked, he probably would have told me to figure it out for myself. At least, that's usually how these things go.

I had understood what I had to do by the time I stepped foot out of the church, but I took a few days to decide if it was really the best course of action. Father Donnivan's words had never done me wrong before, and it was his story this day which gave me the heart to finally come out to Gerard years later. But, he wasn't the first person I'd ever told about my feelings for Holly.

I ambushed Susan the next Saturday, while she was trying to decide what she would wear to a dinner party later that night. "What do you think, Hannah, the red? Or the blue?" She held the two dresses up to her body for comparison. Personally, I couldn't really have cared, even if I had known the difference well enough t judge; she should have been asking Holly.

"The red one," I said, shrugging. "Hey, Su -- Mrs Peterson, can I ask you a favor?"

She set the dresses down on her bed, brushed a wrinkle out of one before turning back to me. She adjusted her blouse with a tug on her sleeve. "I can certainly see what I can do, Hannah, what is it?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat; I hadn't intended to call her on this so soon -- if ever -- but if my own councel was to be trusted, I was going to have to. "Do you think you'll have time before you go out tonight to drive me to the hospital? I was going to ask Jerry, but he got called out too quickly, an he's going to be back too late to go." I took a page out of Holly's book and gave Susan just the hint of a pout; I found out later in my life, studying myself in a mirror, that it really didn't work for me. At all. Still, you can't blame a girl for trying, right?

"Oh, of course I can!" Susan's face broke into a relieved smile, leaving me wondering just what she had thought I was going to ask of her. "I promised, after all, didn't I? Is Holly going with you? When did you want to leave?" She snatched up the red dress again and moved in front of the full-length mirror.

"Whenever you have the time," I said. "And ... I don't know. Holly!"

She came jogging from our bedroom, surveyed our pow-wow from the doorway. "The blue one will go better, if you wear those earrings we bought yesterday," she offered.

Susan looked conflicted for a moment, then turned to regard the other dress, still lying on the bed. "Oh, you're right!" Confirming my theory that Holly was the better judge, I couldn't help smiling to myself. "Oh! I actually wanted to ask if you were going with Hannah to visit the hospital?" I turned to Holly, speaking to her without words: It's been two weeks since we've seen Mom. Come on, I'd like the company.

Holly frowned. "I'd love to, but I kind of already have plans. I told Gerard I'd go to the movies with him this afternoon."

Susan shrugged, too intent on her wardrobe and only marginally following the conversation. "Oh, okay. I guess it's just me and you, Hannah."

"Have fun, then," I said, forcing a smile for Holly.

Susan, happy with Holly's advice, managed to pull herself away from the mirror once some of the tension had filtered out of the air. "Did you want to go now, then? I don't want to get caught up doing my make-up and have to rush you out the door."

I nodded, turned to leave. As I brushed past Holly, I hugged her on a whim. "Have fun," I repeated -- sincerely, this time.

"Thanks," she said, "I'll try." We smiled, then Susan and I left.

It was a short drive to the hospital, relatively speaking; I'm always impressed with how some drivers seem to be able to intuit the path of least resistance and cut around the entire city's worth of congested traffic, no matter where they're going. I felt a little guilty over asking Susan for a drive -- she had just shelled out almost a hundred dollars to buy me and Holly bus passes for the month -- but I explained to her that I still wasn't sure about the weekend transit schedules, and I wanted to get to the hospital before visiting hours were over and I'd have to fight tooth and nail against the nurses for the "privilege" of seeing my mother. Susan brushed off my apologies, and told me she was happy to do it -- and if she wasn't, she'd tell me. I didn't quite buy it, but I had to smile for the attempt.

She asked if I wanted her to come back to pick me up in an hour, but I shook my head. The truth was, I probably wouldn't be in any mood for company by the time I was done, and I told her so. She smiled, said she understood, and drove off. A few minutes later, I was sitting alone at it mother's bedside.

"Hey, Mom," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. I had to laugh. "I ... actually, have no idea where to start. I know it's been a while since I came to visit you, I'm sorry. We're just trying to settle in with the Petersons -- our foster parents -- and, well, I don't know. They seem like really nice people, I think you'd like them, they're treating me and Holly really nice, not like you see foster homes on TV, and I guess we don't really want to upset the balance or whatever by making them think we're these, like, needy and emotional kids.

"I know it's really not a good excuse, and I'm sorry. I miss you tons when I don't see you. I wish you could just come home, but I know you can't yet. I guess a part of it's that I'm trying to protect Holly, too. I know we never really talked about it, not before you came here, but I know it's what you wanted me to do. A part of me thinks that bringing her to see you all the time is going to keep her in the past, with you and D -- our father -- and Nana, and all the fighting. And she's really just starting to get on with her life. Not that she'll forget about you, I know she thinks about you every day, but it's like I told you about we talked before, about walking forward and carrying you with us, instead of waiting in one place. Holly needs to keep walking, I think.

"Actually, that's a part of why she's not here with me today." I smiled, a little wistful, before going on. "I actually asked her to come, I wanted her to, but she had plans to go -- actually, I think it's sort of a date. I know what you'd say, we're too young to be dating, we should wait until we're older and more mature, yada yada. We'd probably all tease each other and laugh about it later. But it's not anything really serious, I don't even know if it is a date, honestly.

"Actually, it's Gerard she's out on this date with. Gerard Quinn, Toni's son, remember him? How he used to come over with his mother when Holly and I were in first grade? He's actually turned into a really good friend. He's a lot smarter than I gave him credit for -- actually, than I ever gave any boy credit for. And Holly really likes him, I think. She always smiles when he's around, the way she used to smile when--"

My voice broke on the words, and I was afraid I was going to start crying. I couldn't, though, not in front of Mom. Deep in my gut, I knew she could hear me, knew she understood what was going on around her. I had to be strong for her, prove that I could be strong for Holly. I brushed at my eyes, trying to find the right words. "Listen, Mom, I need to tell you something. And I know you're not going to like it, but it's torture to keep it bottled up inside, and I just need to tell someone. And I know -- I don't know how I know, but I do -- I know that if anyone's going to understand, it's you.

Just say it. I don't know whose voice it was in my head. Mom's? Holly's? Marie's? I knew I was imagining it, but still, it was there. I felt a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder, urging me on. Bile threatened to rise in my throat, but I swallowed the bitter stuff down, tried to put my thoughts in some kind of order.

"The thing is ... I think I'm in love with Holly. I know, it's sick and wrong, and I should be struck down just for thinking it's possible, but ... I don't know. Every time I see her face, it's like the whole world exploded in rainbows. Every time she hugs me, I feel like there's a part of me that was missing, but I didn't realize it until I found it again in her. I've tried telling myself it's because we're sisters, and so close in age, and sisters love each other, of course, but they don't love each other. They can't. But none of it works, no other explanation feels right.

"I'm hoping it's just a phase, or whatever. Like all the grown-ups say, I'm too young to know what love really is, maybe it's just a crush. Or maybe it's, um, separation anxiety? Like, I feel like I'm losing her to Gerard, so I'm trying to find an excuse to keep her close to me?

"But that doesn't work, either. I felt like this even before Gerard came back -- remember how I said he wasn't hanging out with us anymore for a while? It turns out it's because he had a crush on Holly, but he didn't want to say anything about it. I guess, sort of like me. But, anyway, I mean ... I felt like this even before I knew that.

"But, don't worry, I haven't told Holly about any of this. I haven't told anyone about it, until now. And I do know it's wrong, I'm not going to do anything gross. I even started sleeping in separate beds, just to make it easier for both of us. Nothing's going to happen, if I can help it. I mean, nothing's going to happen."

Quite suddenly, I realized that I had run out of words. I didn't know what else there was to say. Despite what Father Donnivan had said about the monks, I still felt a weight on my shoulders; but then, I wasn't dealing with something as trivial -- in my mind -- as God leaving the mountains. I guess that when you've done something as grossly wrong as I had, simply talking about it doesn't make it go away. But, even though there was still a weight on my shoulders, some of the tightness in my chest had gone away.

Maybe confession was cathartic, after all.

With nothing left to say, I planted a kiss on Mom's cheek and stood up. I almost made it out the door, to, before something stopped me in my tracks. I turned back, walked over to grab up Mom's hand; it was colder than I remembered -- but then, I couldn't remember exactly when the last time I held her hand was. "Listen, Mom," I said. I stifled a laugh. "Listen. I don't even know if you can hear me, not really, and I'm telling you to listen. I mean, I think you can hear me -- I kind of need you to hear me. So, if you can, just forget everything I said. I'm sure it's really nothing, and it'll all go away. I mean, I'm not even supposed to like girls at all, let alone my sister, right? Maybe when I go back to school in September I'll find a boy I like, like Holly has, and I'll forget all about this, okay? You don't need to worry about any of it." I rubbed my thumb over get palm, lifted it to my lips. "I love you, Mom."

It was a good note to end on, I think. I had said it every time I visited, but it was never much more than a courtesy I spoke because I knew I should. This time, though, I mulled over the words as they left my lips, meaning them more and more deeply than I had before. I did love her, after all -- I didn't have her for very long, and she missed a lot of the things a mother should be entitled to, but there was a bond, some deep and primal thing, that I could feel tug at my heart every time I was in this room with her. Thinking about it, though, only ever made me angrier; it wasn't just that our father had taken Mom from us, but he had taken us from her. She deserved better than that -- anyone would.

I took a deep breath to clear my thoughts, and left. Every step I took away from that hospital filled me with a new strength -- I was no longer the young girl who had to hide beneath her sheets while the world was torn apart around her, but rather something else, something greater. I could face this thing that haunted me, and I could overcome it. At least, I thought I could.

The bus ride home was longer than I would have liked. I should have taken Susan up on her offer for a drive; to my surprise, I wasn't dreading company, but craving it. As it was, I couldn't wait to get home, just to see Holly, just to be near her. I didn't want to talk, exactly, I just didn't want to be alone. Finally, the bus turned onto Bishop. I pulled the bell, looked out my window to see if Susan had left yet, or if Jerry had come home. There were no cars in the driveway, and I was about to make my way for the door when something else caught my eye -- Holly and Gerard must have been just getting home from their movie. They were standing on the top step of the porch, where I had cut my hand the week before. They looked like they were talking, and suddenly, Gerard leaned down and kissed her. Holly. My Holly.

"Hey, are you gettin' off?" The bus driver's voice snapped me out f my thoughts, and I shook the tears out of my head.

"No, sorry, this isn't my stop. It's my first time on this route," I apologized, watching Holly and Gerard fade into the distance as the bus started driving away, "I must have made a mistake."

Description
I should have asked Father Donnivan what he meant, instead of deciding the story's meaning for myself. The gloomy gaze of the statue of Jesus on the daïs was making it hard to think, but then, if I had asked, he probably would have told me to figure it out for myself. At least, that's usually how these things go.

I had understood what I had to do by the time I stepped foot out of the church, but I took a few days to decide if it was really the best course of action. Father Donnivan's words had never done me wrong before, and it was his story this day which gave me the heart to finally come out to Gerard years later. But, he wasn't the first person I'd ever told about my feelings for Holly.

I ambushed Susan the next Saturday, while she was trying to decide what she would wear to a dinner party later that night. "What do you think, Hannah, the red? Or the blue?" She held the two dresses up to her body for comparison. Personally, I couldn't really have cared, even if I had known the difference well enough t judge; she should have been asking Holly.

"The red one," I said, shrugging. "Hey, Su -- Mrs Peterson, can I ask you a favor?"

She set the dresses down on her bed, brushed a wrinkle out of one before turning back to me. She adjusted her blouse with a tug on her sleeve. "I can certainly see what I can do, Hannah, what is it?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat; I hadn't intended to call her on this so soon -- if ever -- but if my own councel was to be trusted, I was going to have to. "Do you think you'll have time before you go out tonight to drive me to the hospital? I was going to ask Jerry, but he got called out too quickly, an he's going to be back too late to go." I took a page out of Holly's book and gave Susan just the hint of a pout; I found out later in my life, studying myself in a mirror, that it really didn't work for me. At all. Still, you can't blame a girl for trying, right?

"Oh, of course I can!" Susan's face broke into a relieved smile, leaving me wondering just what she had thought I was going to ask of her. "I promised, after all, didn't I? Is Holly going with you? When did you want to leave?" She snatched up the red dress again and moved in front of the full-length mirror.

"Whenever you have the time," I said. "And ... I don't know. Holly!"

She came jogging from our bedroom, surveyed our pow-wow from the doorway. "The blue one will go better, if you wear those earrings we bought yesterday," she offered.

Susan looked conflicted for a moment, then turned to regard the other dress, still lying on the bed. "Oh, you're right!" Confirming my theory that Holly was the better judge, I couldn't help smiling to myself. "Oh! I actually wanted to ask if you were going with Hannah to visit the hospital?" I turned to Holly, speaking to her without words: It's been two weeks since we've seen Mom. Come on, I'd like the company.

Holly frowned. "I'd love to, but I kind of already have plans. I told Gerard I'd go to the movies with him this afternoon."

Susan shrugged, too intent on her wardrobe and only marginally following the conversation. "Oh, okay. I guess it's just me and you, Hannah."

"Have fun, then," I said, forcing a smile for Holly.

Susan, happy with Holly's advice, managed to pull herself away from the mirror once some of the tension had filtered out of the air. "Did you want to go now, then? I don't want to get caught up doing my make-up and have to rush you out the door."

I nodded, turned to leave. As I brushed past Holly, I hugged her on a whim. "Have fun," I repeated -- sincerely, this time.

"Thanks," she said, "I'll try." We smiled, then Susan and I left.

It was a short drive to the hospital, relatively speaking; I'm always impressed with how some drivers seem to be able to intuit the path of least resistance and cut around the entire city's worth of congested traffic, no matter where they're going. I felt a little guilty over asking Susan for a drive -- she had just shelled out almost a hundred dollars to buy me and Holly bus passes for the month -- but I explained to her that I still wasn't sure about the weekend transit schedules, and I wanted to get to the hospital before visiting hours were over and I'd have to fight tooth and nail against the nurses for the "privilege" of seeing my mother. Susan brushed off my apologies, and told me she was happy to do it -- and if she wasn't, she'd tell me. I didn't quite buy it, but I had to smile for the attempt.

She asked if I wanted her to come back to pick me up in an hour, but I shook my head. The truth was, I probably wouldn't be in any mood for company by the time I was done, and I told her so. She smiled, said she understood, and drove off. A few minutes later, I was sitting alone at it mother's bedside.

"Hey, Mom," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. I had to laugh. "I ... actually, have no idea where to start. I know it's been a while since I came to visit you, I'm sorry. We're just trying to settle in with the Petersons -- our foster parents -- and, well, I don't know. They seem like really nice people, I think you'd like them, they're treating me and Holly really nice, not like you see foster homes on TV, and I guess we don't really want to upset the balance or whatever by making them think we're these, like, needy and emotional kids.

"I know it's really not a good excuse, and I'm sorry. I miss you tons when I don't see you. I wish you could just come home, but I know you can't yet. I guess a part of it's that I'm trying to protect Holly, too. I know we never really talked about it, not before you came here, but I know it's what you wanted me to do. A part of me thinks that bringing her to see you all the time is going to keep her in the past, with you and D -- our father -- and Nana, and all the fighting. And she's really just starting to get on with her life. Not that she'll forget about you, I know she thinks about you every day, but it's like I told you about we talked before, about walking forward and carrying you with us, instead of waiting in one place. Holly needs to keep walking, I think.

"Actually, that's a part of why she's not here with me today." I smiled, a little wistful, before going on. "I actually asked her to come, I wanted her to, but she had plans to go -- actually, I think it's sort of a date. I know what you'd say, we're too young to be dating, we should wait until we're older and more mature, yada yada. We'd probably all tease each other and laugh about it later. But it's not anything really serious, I don't even know if it is a date, honestly.

"Actually, it's Gerard she's out on this date with. Gerard Quinn, Toni's son, remember him? How he used to come over with his mother when Holly and I were in first grade? He's actually turned into a really good friend. He's a lot smarter than I gave him credit for -- actually, than I ever gave any boy credit for. And Holly really likes him, I think. She always smiles when he's around, the way she used to smile when--"

My voice broke on the words, and I was afraid I was going to start crying. I couldn't, though, not in front of Mom. Deep in my gut, I knew she could hear me, knew she understood what was going on around her. I had to be strong for her, prove that I could be strong for Holly. I brushed at my eyes, trying to find the right words. "Listen, Mom, I need to tell you something. And I know you're not going to like it, but it's torture to keep it bottled up inside, and I just need to tell someone. And I know -- I don't know how I know, but I do -- I know that if anyone's going to understand, it's you.

Just say it. I don't know whose voice it was in my head. Mom's? Holly's? Marie's? I knew I was imagining it, but still, it was there. I felt a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder, urging me on. Bile threatened to rise in my throat, but I swallowed the bitter stuff down, tried to put my thoughts in some kind of order.

"The thing is ... I think I'm in love with Holly. I know, it's sick and wrong, and I should be struck down just for thinking it's possible, but ... I don't know. Every time I see her face, it's like the whole world exploded in rainbows. Every time she hugs me, I feel like there's a part of me that was missing, but I didn't realize it until I found it again in her. I've tried telling myself it's because we're sisters, and so close in age, and sisters love each other, of course, but they don't love each other. They can't. But none of it works, no other explanation feels right.

"I'm hoping it's just a phase, or whatever. Like all the grown-ups say, I'm too young to know what love really is, maybe it's just a crush. Or maybe it's, um, separation anxiety? Like, I feel like I'm losing her to Gerard, so I'm trying to find an excuse to keep her close to me?

"But that doesn't work, either. I felt like this even before Gerard came back -- remember how I said he wasn't hanging out with us anymore for a while? It turns out it's because he had a crush on Holly, but he didn't want to say anything about it. I guess, sort of like me. But, anyway, I mean ... I felt like this even before I knew that.

"But, don't worry, I haven't told Holly about any of this. I haven't told anyone about it, until now. And I do know it's wrong, I'm not going to do anything gross. I even started sleeping in separate beds, just to make it easier for both of us. Nothing's going to happen, if I can help it. I mean, nothing's going to happen."

Quite suddenly, I realized that I had run out of words. I didn't know what else there was to say. Despite what Father Donnivan had said about the monks, I still felt a weight on my shoulders; but then, I wasn't dealing with something as trivial -- in my mind -- as God leaving the mountains. I guess that when you've done something as grossly wrong as I had, simply talking about it doesn't make it go away. But, even though there was still a weight on my shoulders, some of the tightness in my chest had gone away.

Maybe confession was cathartic, after all.

With nothing left to say, I planted a kiss on Mom's cheek and stood up. I almost made it out the door, to, before something stopped me in my tracks. I turned back, walked over to grab up Mom's hand; it was colder than I remembered -- but then, I couldn't remember exactly when the last time I held her hand was. "Listen, Mom," I said. I stifled a laugh. "Listen. I don't even know if you can hear me, not really, and I'm telling you to listen. I mean, I think you can hear me -- I kind of need you to hear me. So, if you can, just forget everything I said. I'm sure it's really nothing, and it'll all go away. I mean, I'm not even supposed to like girls at all, let alone my sister, right? Maybe when I go back to school in September I'll find a boy I like, like Holly has, and I'll forget all about this, okay? You don't need to worry about any of it." I rubbed my thumb over get palm, lifted it to my lips. "I love you, Mom."

It was a good note to end on, I think. I had said it every time I visited, but it was never much more than a courtesy I spoke because I knew I should. This time, though, I mulled over the words as they left my lips, meaning them more and more deeply than I had before. I did love her, after all -- I didn't have her for very long, and she missed a lot of the things a mother should be entitled to, but there was a bond, some deep and primal thing, that I could feel tug at my heart every time I was in this room with her. Thinking about it, though, only ever made me angrier; it wasn't just that our father had taken Mom from us, but he had taken us from her. She deserved better than that -- anyone would.

I took a deep breath to clear my thoughts, and left. Every step I took away from that hospital filled me with a new strength -- I was no longer the young girl who had to hide beneath her sheets while the world was torn apart around her, but rather something else, something greater. I could face this thing that haunted me, and I could overcome it. At least, I thought I could.

The bus ride home was longer than I would have liked. I should have taken Susan up on her offer for a drive; to my surprise, I wasn't dreading company, but craving it. As it was, I couldn't wait to get home, just to see Holly, just to be near her. I didn't want to talk, exactly, I just didn't want to be alone. Finally, the bus turned onto Bishop. I pulled the bell, looked out my window to see if Susan had left yet, or if Jerry had come home. There were no cars in the driveway, and I was about to make my way for the door when something else caught my eye -- Holly and Gerard must have been just getting home from their movie. They were standing on the top step of the porch, where I had cut my hand the week before. They looked like they were talking, and suddenly, Gerard leaned down and kissed her. Holly. My Holly.

"Hey, are you gettin' off?" The bus driver's voice snapped me out f my thoughts, and I shook the tears out of my head.

"No, sorry, this isn't my stop. It's my first time on this route," I apologized, watching Holly and Gerard fade into the distance as the bus started driving away, "I must have made a mistake."