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Close enough.

“Frankie.”

I tap her door again. “Open up.”

“Leave me alone!” she shouts.

“Franks, honey, it’s Christmas. You’re crying. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not crying!”

She throws something at the door that hits hard enough to make me take a step back. Caroline’s behind me, hands cupping her elbows.

“You want me to try?”

Twenty minutes. Twenty lousy minutes on the phone with my mom on fucking Christmas Day, and me in the next room the whole time monitoring the call, but it still ends up this way—with my sister flinging the phone down, busting out in sobs, and running from the room.

Mom didn’t even call until right before Frankie’s bedtime. I tried her earlier, hoping to get it over with, but she answers the phone when she feels like it, and Christmas is no exception.

Usually, we get her when she’s on her way somewhere in the car and she wants to fill ten minutes with pointless chatter.

How are you guys doing? she’ll ask, but she doesn’t want to know.

Frankie has a harder time than I do with the calls. Some afternoons I’ll come in from working with Laurie to find her shut in her room, her hand-drawn STAY OUT sign taped to the door, and I’ll look at Caroline and mouth, Mom called?

Yeah, she’ll mouth in response.

Then she’ll make cookies, or I’ll download an episode of a show Frankie likes and use it to pry her out of her isolation.

Tonight, Mom was more emotional than I felt like dealing with. “I miss you guys, oh my gosh,” she said when I was on the phone with her. “Like fucking crazy.”

There was a looseness to her speech, the way it spilled out of her, that made me reluctant to turn the call over to Frankie, but I figured, it was Christmas. I couldn’t really say no.

I should’ve said no.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say.

“You could give her a minute to cool off.”

“She’s not mad, though. Not really. She’s hurt, and I don’t want to leave her be.”

I tap at the door again. “Frankie. Open up, or I’ll take the knob off the door and let myself in.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can, actually.”

“You’re not my dad!”

“I’m your brother and the guy who’s paying the rent around here, so open the door, Franks. I’m serious.”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“West—” Caroline says.

I turn around, put my back to the door, and slide down it. “I don’t know how to be her father,” I say.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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