Page 34 of Such Sharp Teeth

“A week.”

“A week? When were you going to tell me?”

Scarlett has a much less complicated relationship with our mother. They speak on a regular basis. Weekly FaceTime sessions, consistent texting. I speak to our mother only when absolutely necessary. I see her only on holidays, and I avoid being alone with her.

The idea of having to be around her for a week . . .

“Why are you springing this on me?”

“It’s not springing,” she says. “I’m telling you.”

“Are you pissed at me?”

“Believe it or not, this visit isn’t to spite you,” she says. “She visits sometimes. It’s normal.”

“It is to spite me,” I say.

I was having a good night. The timing feels calculated. It’s cruel.

“I was dreading telling you because I knew you’d react like this. We don’t need to argue. It’ll be fine. It’s a few days.”

“Right,” I say, infusing as much venom into the word as possible.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sighing as we pull into the garage. “What do you want me to do? Tell her she can’t come? I’ve been in the middle for years now. I can’t do it anymore, Aurora. Especially not right now.”

“I see how it is. Blame the baby, huh?” I ask, softening a little.

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

We go inside, kicking our shoes off in the laundry room.

“You want tea?” she asks.

“No, thanks. I’m gonna go to bed,” I say. “Sweet dreams.”

I’m almost to the stairs when she calls my name.

“Yeah?” I ask, turning around.

“I am happy, about you and Ian. I always rooted for him,” she says. “I’m not sad. I don’t know why I started crying. I don’t have any control.”

“What do you mean?”

“My body, my emotions,” she says. “It’s frustrating. I don’t feel like myself. I’m not myself. And . . . I don’t know. It’s just weird to see you starting something, when I’m—”

“Yeah,” I say. “I get it.”

“You sure you don’t want tea?” she asks, filling the kettle.

“I’m good.”

“All right,” she says. “And I didn’t mean to spring it on you. About Mom. I just didn’t know how to tell you. It’s a tough spot.”

“Yeah,” I say, foot on the first step.

“Maybe it’s good she’s coming. Maybe it’ll give you guys the time to talk things out.”

“Right. I’m going upstairs now. Night.”