Between Sisters

by Kristin Hannah

“We do not see things as they are, we see them as we are.” —ANAÏS NIN

“If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?” —LILY TOMLIN

Let’s go home. Home. It was the word she’d waited for, dreamed of. It had taken her years—and more than a few tears—to realize that he hadn’t offered the same welcome to Meghann. By then, of course, by the time Claire understood the mistake, it was well past the time to rectify it.

The bedrock lesson of her life was that love didn’t last. It was better to be lonely and strong than heartbroken and weak.

Bullies were bullies; their defining characteristic was the need to exert power over the powerless. Who was more powerless than a child?

Not even to surprise me with a dinner date. The surprise was always: We’re going out to dinner. Could you plan it? Like it takes ovaries to pick up the phone.”

Exactly

I’ll have money. Big fat deal. You have money, I assume. Do you sleep with it at night? Does it hold you when you’ve awakened from a nightmare?”

“Is she in love?” Meghann waved her hand impatiently. “Of course.” “You don’t think that matters?” “They’re always in love in the beginning. It’s like going out to sea on a huge throat lozenge. The water disintegrates it. After a few floating years, you’re swimming with nothing to hold you up. Then the sharks move in.”

We can’t live other people’s lives for them. Even if we love them.”

“I should have known how fragile love was, given my family history, but I was reckless. I handled a glass bubble as if it were made of steel. I couldn’t believe how quickly it broke. He left because I didn’t know how to love him enough.”

“Sometimes love means trusting people to make their own decisions. In other words, shutting up.”

Lordy, Claire, he’d say, no one else can yell at me without saying a word. Someday all that silent anger of yours is gonna back up in your throat and choke you.

“I’m sorry.” She touched him. “I’ve always been as sensitive as a serial killer.”