Truth Or Lie.

• Set your entire story in a car, train, or plane

Truth or Lie

By Lucy Appadoo

Catarina sat in the back seat of the car as she gazed through the car window with twitchy fingers, bated breath and scattering thoughts. Something was on her mind while her and her family left their vacation spot at the seaside resort in Mondello, Italy. Catarina sat in the back with her twin sister, Louise, while her father drove. Her mother sat in the passenger seat.

The resort lay between Monte Pellegrino and Capo Gallo, and was considered the most luxurious in Sicily. The scenic village showed men fishing, the Saracen tower and nearby ruins of an old castle on the water. Antiques, monuments and restaurants lined the congested streets.

Catarina flashed back to this morning when she had packed her few clothes into her old, battered suitcase. It must’ve been at least thirty years old. As she put her bathers in an inside pocket, she felt something. She withdrew her hand to find a dirty old piece of card. It was a ‘sympathy card.’ “We’re sorry to hear about Louise. Don’t lose faith. She will fight this sickness. Please accept our warmest sympathy, and know we are thinking of you.’

Catarina’s eyes were stuck on the words. She folded the card with a shivering hand and put it back in the suitcase. What had been wrong with her sister? Her mother had never told them about any illness. If Louise remembered that time, she had kept it a secret.

Cat gripped the edge of the window. “I have questions, Mum.”

Her mother glared from her seat. “I don’t have energy for questions now, Catarina. You exhaust me.”

“Mama, please. Why are you always angry with Catarina? She is my sister and I love her,” Louise pleaded. Her mother’s eyes softened until she turned back to Catarina.

Catarina sighed. “You have secrets.”

“What?” Her mother’s eyes darkened. “What are you talking about?”

Catarina took the folded card out of her jeans pocket and shoved it forward.

“What is this?” Her mother snatched it away and read it to herself. Catarina noticed

the stillness of her body, and the paleness of her cheeks.

Her father slowed down his driving and looked to the side. “She’s been kept in the dark long enough, Maria.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s in the past and should remain there.”

Louise touched her mother’s shoulder. “Mama, what is it? What happened?”

To her surprise, a whimpering sound came from her mother. She gripped the note while staring through the car window. “I cannot go through this again— not again.” She shook her head, cowering.

“Mama, please—we are old enough. You’ll feel much better talking,” Louise said.

Her mother nodded slowly. “Louise, you were sick the moment you were born.

Catarina was fine, even though she was born ten weeks prematurely.”

“What was wrong with Louise?” Catarina asked.

Her mother turned briefly, then focussed on her husband driving. “The doctors said she had a heart problem and respiratory distress—she couldn’t breathe well. A couple of times, she stopped breathing altogether.” She paused at the memory, swallowing. “They said she would not survive—that her poor, tiny body had gone through too much, but I never believed them. I always had hope.”

“I never knew this,” Louise said, laying a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Why didn’t

you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to remember. It was too painful to bring up again.”

Catarina cringed. “So, how long were we in the hospital?”

“You were there for ten weeks, but Louise stayed on an extra two months. The doctors

kept saying, ‘She probably won’t live through the night.’ I was sick of hearing that. So

sick of it.”

She turned back to Louise with tears in her eyes. “Even when you were finally out of

the hospital, the nurses would come to our home to monitor you, but it didn’t end there.

When you got older, you kept having accidents. I remember one time you were about six.

You were reaching up for some chocolates on top of your wardrobe, and it fell, landing right

on top of you. Luckily, the heavy doors were open; otherwise, you could have been killed.

She sighed heavily. “Another time, you stuck a knife in your ear, and I found you

bleeding all over the floor. Only weeks later, you were playing with the sewing machine and

got your finger stuck under the needle.” She closed her eyes briefly. "I felt like I was

always scared something bad would happen to you.”

Catarina finally understood. The constant fussing over Louise, the watchful eyes, the

protective words. They had been different from birth, but Catarina hadn’t known why. Until

today. “So that’s why you’re controlling of Louise—because of your past fears?”

Her mother said nothing, Louise responding instead. “What do you mean, controlling?

I’m an adult now, not a child.”

Catarina shrugged. “You work for Mum; you baby-sit her friend’s kids in your spare

time. You rarely go out because she doesn't want you to.

Louise’s eyes grew moist, and Catarina watched despairingly as her sister bowed her head. She hadn’t meant to upset her.

“I guess I was the opposite?” she asked.

Her father chuckled. “You were, bella. You rebelled and broke things. You were a

difficult child—always doing things to get our attention, and believe me, you got it.”

“Can you blame me? While you protected Louise, who cared for me?”

Her mother frowned. “How can you say such things about your own sister?”

“I want to know why you hate me so much,” Catarina said, ignoring the question.

“I don't hate you. That's ridiculous."

Her father shook his head, gently touching his wife’s hand. “Tell her the truth.

She’ll understand.”

“Gianni, let it go.” Her mother’s body froze in her seat.

“You make me ashamed,” he snapped. “I have seen our dear Catarina cry many times

when you've hurt her. Now it is time to fix things. Please think about what you are doing.”

“She defies us at every turn!” her mother said.

“Yes, she is different from Louise. They cannot be the same, but that’s a good thing.”

Catarina’s heart warmed as her father finally spoke up to his wife, refusing to let her

push him over like she usually did. “You are working this out because I said so,” he finished sternly. “We've had enough poison between you and Cat, and it stops now.”

Catarina steeled herself and felt a bump in the road. “When I became a teacher, you criticised me for not studying a better profession. If I won sporting trophies, you said it was a man's pursuit and not that important. I found someone who loved me, and you hated him for defending me. Nothing ever seems good enough, and I'm tired of proving myself.”

Her mother grunted. “I've had enough of this. No more discussion. We’re almost home, so leave it.”

Her father's expression darkened. “Tell her the rest of it, or I will.”

She hesitated and pursed her lips. “Fine, if you must know.”

“Know what?” Catarina’s stomach turned.

“I was in the kitchen,” she sighed. “You and Louise were about four years old, sitting

in the living room and playing with your toys. I left you alone for a few minutes when I

realised you’d grown quiet. I left the kitchen and discovered Louise was missing. I looked

everywhere, but you wouldn’t tell me where she was. Finally, I found her in the laundry—

she was head down in the rubbish bin and unable to breathe. To you, it was a simple hide and

seek game, but with her respiratory problems—.”

Catarina shook in horror. “I don’t remember putting her in the bin.”

“You were only four—and she was fragile,” her mother mentioned.

“What did I understand back then?”

“Your mother was scared, bella,” her father said.

Catarina felt tears sting her eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her, Mum.”

Her father passed a roundabout as they neared their street. “Let this go, Marie. I think you need to have a proper talk with Catarina over a nice cup of tea.”

Her mother nodded. “Maybe you’re right, Gianni.”

Catarina breathed a sigh of relief. Would they finally understand each other? If so, it was a good start.