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“I was just in the area. The girls out?” she asked, directing the question to her mother. Her younger twin sisters, Surrey and Sidney—named after the last two cities they’d lived in—had been a surprise as well. In their junior year of high school, they were part of the reason she felt obligated to support her family. She wouldn’t wish her childhood on anyone, and if she had the means to provide her sisters with a stable and supportive environment, she’d do it.
“Of course,” her father said. “They party too much. Just like you did.”
She shook her head. She had never partied a day in her life. How soon he forgot that her late nights were spent working at movie theaters and fast-food restaurants. She wanted to believe that inside, under his prickly demeanor, he was a loving man. But she knew better.
John and Leslie Andrews were high school sweethearts. Hippies who never grew out of the lifestyle. During her childhood they had moved Sterling from province to province. She’d never had the chance to make lasting friendships, never went to a school dance, never even kissed a boy until she had moved out on her own.
It’d been a long time since she’d felt anything but obligation toward her parents. Call it the residual effects of being related to addicts. They were constantly trying to worm their way around the truth, spinning it to their advantage. Over the years, she’d learned to deal with their games. She didn’t want to stay here any longer than she had to, but first she needed the truth. And since they weren’t going to offer it up willingly…
“Did you use my credit card?” she blurted.
They both sat silent. One not looking at the other.
“Mom?”
Her mother looked up, sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry Sterling. We…the girls needed a few things and I just couldn’t say no to them.”
Sterling took a deep breath. It was for the girls. She sighed in relief. “So you haven’t started again? You’re not gambling?”
“Of course not, dear.” Her mother reassured with a smile on her face. “We just didn’t want to bother you. We’ll pay you back.”
She knew she’d never see the money again, but even the most organized people made mistakes. Sterling didn’t, but some people did.
“I’m sorry.” Her mother did look sorry. Her father, on the other hand, still played his game.
With that weight off her shoulders, Sterling glanced to the mess of papers on the other end of the table. Loose paper—an organizer’s bread and butter. “Let me help you with that, Mom.” She reached for a few pieces of paper to organize. “Remind me next time to bring you some file folders so you can—”
“No!” her mother screeched. “Just leave that.”
She retracted her hands, jolted by her mother’s high-pitched tone, but she already had a few of the papers in her grasp. She recognized the green logo and the red stamp that glared at her from across the page. Red stamps only meant one thing. And since her parents’ financial status was really her own, she needed to read that page.
It was even worse than she had feared. The letter was a demand for payment. Payments for the mortgage Sterling co-signed because their credit sucked. The real reason why she held back on living her own life.
She had thought her parents were well along in their recovery. She’d made sure that they attended the local rehab meetings she’d found for them. Although maybe they weren’t as effective as the website claimed. Now it seemed the shoe she had been waiting to drop finally came crashing to the ground. She had come here for a credit card charge and instead saw her financial future plummet.
A heavy feeling grabbed at her insides as déjà vu sank in, a feeling she had thought she’d banished for good.
She stiffly turned and stalked over to the sink. Opening the bottom cupboard, she pulled out the garbage can. She reached inside and moved around the contents. Sure enough, at the bottom of the bag was all the evidence she needed.
Lotto tickets.
There must have been twenty, maybe even thirty. Her heart sank. Disappointment overwhelmed her. She moved across the kitchen to the junk drawer. Sure enough, hidden in the back was a stack of scratch tickets wrapped in an elastic band—all of them brand-new.
She slammed the drawer shut and threw the stack on the kitchen table. “I thought you had this under control?” Tears welled in her eyes. Her throat clenched.
“I…” Her mother danced from side to side, transferring her weight from one foot to the other. She stared at her father, a desperate plea settling in the depths of her eyes.
He placed the deck of cards on the table and finally acknowledged her presence by looking her directly in the eye. His look gave nothing away, his eyes locking her in a stare that was so practiced and stoic that she never knew the truth.
“You’re gambling again.” A tear escaped and ran down her face. She couldn’t stop it. This scenario was all too familiar. All too disgusting. “How long has this been going on?”
She looked at her mother, then her father. But neither of them looked at her. Instead they looked at each other as if silently corroborating their stories.
She whipped the non-winning tickets in the garbage. Weren’t they supposed to be the adults? Weren’t they the ones who were supposed to be bailing her out of her financial mistakes? “Answer me.”
Her mother jumped at the shrill sound of her voice. She didn’t even recognize it herself.
