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I fight the urge to rush to the patio railing and vomit over the side.
“A week ago?” I croak. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“We didn’t want to bother you with something like this,” she says dismissively. “And honestly, we wouldn’t have under normal circumstances.”
Something like this?I want to scream.
The wineglass tips over as if a small earthquake has hit the table, but it’s only my leg banging up and down as disgust ratchets through my blood. I grab the glass before it can fall and shatter.
“This can’t be real.”
Her voice is strained—the way you’d talk to a toddler. “We all saw this coming. That junkie’s bad habits weren’t a secret. I know it’s hard for you to accept this, sweetie, but this was inevitable.”
I want to throw the glass. My mind is racing, tearing itself apart at my mother’s blunt, detached commentary.
Bad habits.
Inevitable.
Mom has a natural talent of being so effortlessly cruel and callous with her words.
But I refuse to believe that Olivia had relapsed. The last time I heard from her, she was still clean. But then again, that was more than a year ago.
Maybe …
No, I tell myself. I refuse to believe that. Shepromisedme that she was clean.
She never broke any of her promises to me.
In the background of the phone, I hear my father’s annoyed voice. “Did you ask her?”
“Iamasking her, Sam,” Mom grumbles quietly, then directly into my ear, “Anyway, can you find out for us? About that policy? Maybe the paperwork is in her apartment?”
“I don’t know if I can,” I say.
“Are you sure? Can’t you take a couple of days to just go check her apartment? For us, sweetie?”
Reeling from the onslaught of ghastly news, as well as my parents’ callous focus onmoney,I bite my tongue until it stings.
Is the money all you care about?! Olivia isdead,and the only thing you want to know is if you’re getting money out of it? She was your daughter! She’s my sister! I loved her more than either of you ever did. Why don’t youcare?
“Emily?” Mom’s voice jolts me back to reality. “Are you there?”
I blink and taste blood as I open my mouth, inhaling the salty sea breeze.
I didn’t say a single word … I imagined it all in my head.
“Mom,” I begin.
“I know, I know.” She sighs in a great heave. “We shouldn’t bother you with news about that junkie. I know you’ve got more important things to worry about.”
“Yeah?” It comes out in a gritty whisper.
“Your father and I are very proud of how well you’ve been doing. Our little girl, soon-to-be veterinarian. Well, it makes up for our other failures, doesn’t it?”
The whiplash of this conversation is overwhelming.
Phil hasn’t been in touch with them. At least I’m certain of that now.
