Last Supper

And then, for a while, there was nothing. Another dry spell came, but didn't last long. That seemed to be the pattern: Catherine would be tormented, a break would happen, and then it would start up again. Whatever else this thing was, it was a sadist through and through. It had an agenda.

September ended and October was just beginning. I had asked her what she would like most for her upcoming birthday; be it jewelry, clothes or a flowery branch. She shrugged and said that anything from me would do. Catherine had resumed living with her parents, their eyes protectively watching over her and being there in case she ever needed them.

But she began to act quietly, not talking for long periods of time. Now usually it's not cause for alarm, especially considering everything that had happened, but this wasn't the usual kind of self-reflecting; it was far more silent, like a snowy and gelid winter day. But never was she hostile or confrontational towards me or anyone else.

I invited the other girls to the house for dinner to surprise Catherine one time, and for the most part she seemed very pleased with it. She and Mom cooked dinner despite our desire to help. "Let the masters do the work, Liz," my mom said playfully. We set the table and enjoyed the fine meal that we had waited for all evening. The dinner was spent happily chatting and commenting and making jokes. After we had all ate, as she and I were cleaning the plates and bowls, Catherine said, "Thanks for inviting them over. It's nice having everyone together."

"Hey, anything for you. I'm just happy that you're happy." It was true; I was thrilled that she was smiling again, really smiling. It gave me hope.

We were so full that unfortunately dessert had to be skipped, and instead after-dinner cordials were sipped from cute glasses as we watched silly videos on YouTube. I forget exactly what it was, only that it included 'epic fails' of people hurting themselves. We were laughing so hard that we had to stop watching it to catch our breaths and not spill our drinks on anything.

The only one who didn't show any emotion was Catherine. I saw her stare blankly at the screen, sometimes a little smile tugging at her lips, but not the full-blown laughter like I had seen before. Her eyes wandered from me, to our group, to the room, to finally being laid downcast. I would have given anything to know what she was thinking then. Maybe I could have done more.

Florence nudged her shoulder, "Yo, Cath? What's the matter? You look really out of it."

From that she was roused from her stupor and blinked, "Wha...? Oh. Yeah, I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking about?" I said, pausing the video and giving her 100% of my attention.

She stared down at her unfinished cordial, swirling the liquid back and forth, "I was just thinking about you guys, that's all. I'm lucky to have friends that are so understanding; any others would have kicked me to the curb. It's nice knowing who you can count on."

Immediately I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "You know that we're always going to be there, no matter what."

We assured her that we would always be there for her no matter what, no matter the stakes. I could saw tears in her eyes forming as we talked.

Eventually it got so late that the girls had to leave. Florence had been nice enough to let Vivian, Naomi and Rebecca carpool with her to my house, efficiently saving time, money and gas for the three of them. We walked to her car that was carefully behind Catherine's

As Naomi eased herself into the front seat she asked, "You alright to drive, Flo?"

"I'm perfectly fine. You know that I drive better when I'm tipsy." With a shrug and a laugh, Florence opened the driver's side door and was ready to place the key into the ignition.

In seconds Rebecca snatched the keys right out of Florence's hand, "Alright, then I'm driving. I don't want you to risk it."

"I'm going to guess that she was making a dumb comment, Becks, so you can calm down." Vivian folded her arms on the top of the car, an amused grin forming on her face. "Florence knows her limits, though."

Throughout this exhange, Naomi was giggling behind her hand. She wasn't one to get upset easily, which has always been one of her strengths. Catherine entered in, "Florence only had a few small glasses; I think that she's more than capable to drive. But that's just me."

Rebecca thought about it, her brow furrowed. Finally, she  handed the keys back to Florence. "I trust you. But please drive safely."

With that agreement, Florence resumed her rightful place as the driver. "I will. And if I swerve or anything, I'll pull over and you can drive. Is that good?"

"Deal."

Catherine and I waved until we couldn't see them anymore, in which we then went back inside, closed the door and collapsed on the couch. She asked if she could sleep over for the night, and I readily agreed. We changed into our sleepwear (I usually gave her a pair of my pajamas if she didn't bring her own; she and I were the same size) and cozied up to re-read our favorite childhood book, The Velveteen Rabbit.

When we finished the Catherine said to me softly"Elizabeth, even after all that's happened, you still love me?"

It was beyond a no-brainer. Never once did I think about leaving her or even stop loving her. She wasn't at fault for any of what happened. All Catherine was doing was desperately try to keep on keeping on while this thing attempted to ruin her life. Was I frustrated? Yes, but not at Catherine. "Of course I do. I really do. Why do you ask?"

Catherine looked at me, a relieved smile on her face, "Just making sure. I love you, too." she kissed me, placed the book back onto the self and walked to the door, shutting off the light completely."Go to sleep, Ellie. It's late; I'll be right back."

I did so, closing my eyes and waiting for her to come back. I was so tired that I was on the border of sleep and awake when I felt her come back.

It would be the last time I would ever see her.

I woke up the next day alone; Catherine and her car were gone. The pajamas I lent her were neatly folded in the bathroom and nothing seemed amiss. At first I believed that she has woken up before me and returned to her house, but a quick call to the Moores made my heart sink: they didn't see Catherine in the slightest, but they noticed that several things from her room were missing, such as her diary, some clothes and other assorted items. I assume that Catherine went back to gather more things and then go to parts unknown.

Like clockwork, I tried calling her and only got the voicemail. I had no idea where she went or where she was at that time. Her own parents had no luck there either.

Calm down, calm down...I tried to console myself as I paced the floor of my room, she always came back before. Catherine is going to come back again. I know it. I feel it. She's going to come back.

Then a day went by, and the another, without any sign from her at all. When seven days turned into ten, I began to get so worried I could barely think straight. But would Catherine come back after two weeks? Or three? Or a full month? I had no way of knowing then. I was a nervous wreck.

On the fourteenth day, we filed a missing persons report.

And then, almost a month later, she called.