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I shook my head. “You’re doing better than you think.”
“You’re wrong,” she said. “But I can see where you might think so. Since I might be doing this much,” she showed a half inch of space between her first finger and thumb, “better emotionally than you are.”
I didn’t argue my mental state. Leaving Barry had devastated me. I was in mourning like her, but I’d just had a couple of days that hadn’t been near enough. Not years like her.
“Is this doing all right?” Rachel gestured around us, and I bristled.
“My apartment’s not that bad.”
“It’s not.” She seemed to deflate, some of the wind gone from her sails. “I’m grateful, Addy, to live here and have a roof over my head, but this isn’t a home. Where are the pictures of a life well lived, of love given and received? Where are the bits and pieces that show your personality?”
I had no defense for that. I just felt sad.
“I’m sorry.” Rachel sighed. “I shouldn’t be lashing out at you.” She took the note and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m just worried sick.”
“I understand. I’m worried too. Let’s sit down.” I gestured to the couch. She sat first and I followed, taking a seat beside her. “Try her phone again.”
The knob on the door to the apartment turned, and both our heads snapped toward it as it opened. Claire stepped inside, saw us, and stopped.
“Where the hell have you been?” Rachel yelled at her daughter. Standing, she left me sitting on the couch.
Claire looked sheepish. “I left a note.”
After locking the door, which gave her a second to regroup because she obviously knew she was in deep shit, she turned back around to face her mother’s wrath.
Rachel was pissed. I’d never seen my sister so angry.
“A note?” Rachel screeched, and Claire winced. “You think a note is enough?” She marched toward her daughter. “Since when do you think you don’t need my permission to take off in the middle of the night?”
“I was with Missy.” Claire lifted her chin. “You like Missy.”
Rachel frowned. “It’s a school night.”
“I can handle being out late and keep up my grades,” Claire said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Rachel clucked her tongue. “You rarely crack open a book.”
“You never see me study,” Claire snapped, “because you’re rarely around anymore. At least, not when I’m awake.”
I cringed, disappointed with my niece. That was a low blow.
“I have to work.” Rachel’s too-thin shoulders slumped. “I’d like to spend more time with you, but doing what I would like to do won’t get the bills paid.”
Claire knew her mother was right, and I could see she wanted to retract the harsh words as soon as she’d said them. “I’m seventeen years old, Mom.” Her features softening, she uncrossed her arms. “I’m not a child anymore.”
“Yes, I’m well aware how old you are.” Rachel’s messy topknot tipped to the side as she gestured wildly with her indignation. “I was seventeen once. I know how easily a girl your age, who looks like you do, can get into trouble in Southside.”
“I’m responsible.” Claire’s hands fisted at her sides. “I can take care of myself.”
“Were you with a boy?” Rachel asked, her blue eyes narrowing.
“I was for a little while,” Claire said. “But Missy was nearby.”
“You had sex with a boy.” Rachel’s eyes widened as they flashed electric blue, practically incinerating the loose wisps of hair that framed her face. “I can’t believe you had sex.” Staggering backward, she collapsed onto the couch beside me.
“I’m on the pill, Mom.” Claire looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here having this conversation. “You’re the one who insisted I get on birth control when I turned sixteen.”
Staring at the ceiling, Rachel didn’t acknowledge hearing her daughter. “Daniel,” she whispered. “I can’t do this without you.”
