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“You and Ma have fun today?” I started calling Shannon ‘mom’ right after they got married. Honestly, it was an easier transition than I ever thought it would be. I didn’t plan on it. It just slipped out one night at dinner. We’d had a great day—the four of us—at the track, and that night when we sat down, she passed me the potatoes, and it just popped out. Thanks, Ma.
To be honest, it even shocked the hell outta me. Not only because I never thought I’d ever call another woman ‘mom,’ but because of how right it felt. My mom would’ve loved Shannon. If I was someone who subscribed to the whole higher power narrative, I’d even go so far to say that Mom sent her to us. If I believed that bullshit, that is.
“Yeah!” J answers my question. “Not as much as you and Daph, though. I can’t believe you went riding without me!” Her hand flips up, offering a playful slap to my forehead.
“Ay!” I swat back at her. “It was a spur of the moment decision. We were just killing time waiting for you guys to get back.”
“No, it was nice. I was actually surprised to see you guys hanging out. I know you had plans with the skankapotamus today.”
I snort. “What the hell is a skankapotamus?”
“You know.” She laughs.
“Absolutely not. Enlighten me. Part of speech?”
She exhales loudly, feigning annoyance like she doesn’t love this shit. “Noun.”
“Definition?”
“A woman of loose morals who is more interested in securing a birth certificate with you listed as the father than her high school diploma.”
“Hmmm. Still not ringing any bells. Alternate pronunciations?”
“Ho-bag. Hooker. Gold-digger. Sllllllut.”
“Ohhh! Skankapotamus!” I exclaim dramatically as though I’m stumbling upon a realization. “You mean Cat!”
We both erupt in a fit of laughter.
“Why the play on hippopotamus?”
“I don’t know.” Her snickers begin to slow as she wipes the tears from her eyes. “Now that I think about it, it’s insulting to the hippos.”
Shaking my head with a smirk, I flick her on the nose before allowing a comfortable silence to fall between us. My sister may only be twelve, but hanging with her is effortless. There’s never pressure to fill the void with meaningless chitchat. I can simply exist.
Tonight, however, I come in search of specific intel.
“Thank you,” Jones speaks before I’m able to, and I turn to her with a puzzled expression. “Daph told me about Catalina being a bitch.”
“Language,” I reprimand, earning me a roll of her eyes.
“Fine. She told me Catalina wasn’t being very nice. So, thank you for standing up for her.” Jonsie’s head turns to face the ceiling once more. “She deserves more people willing to do that for her.”
My chest tightens with the knowledge that Daphne holds as much value as a goddamn houseplant by her parents’ standard. No one in our family has ever thought those two wastes of space were worthy of such a daughter. Hence, why we allow her to spend so much time here. Though I’d never admit it to her, I actually feel better when she’s in our house.
“J, I need to ask you something about Daph.”
“Hmm?”
“Cat made a crack today about her. Right before I threw her out. Something about making sure the medicine bottles having childproof caps.”
My sister’s body tenses, a silent confirmation to my unasked question.
“What’s she on?” I’m barely able to force out the question with how hard I’m clenching my jaw.
“Nicky…”
“What’s she taking, Joanna?” She flinches at the harshness in my tone I don’t normally reserve for her.
