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Londyn sighs as she opens a window. “Of course you did.”
I frown at her. “What’s that tone supposed to mean?”
She fans her hand in front of her face, trying to cool off. “It means you always do everything.”
I cross my arms. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is, and it isn’t. I mean … don’t you ever get tired of doing all this crap all the time?” She tucks a strand of her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear. “He’s supposed to be the adult, yet we’re the ones getting the power turned on, trying to keep up with the bills, and trying to figure out where the hell he put his car keys after he stumbles home drunk at three in the morning. And he didn’t even bother helping us finish packing, even when he saw we were still up.”
“He may have not noticed,” I point out, not really trying to defend him, just stating the sad obvious. “He was pretty trashed.”
“And he’s super hungover today,” Bailey adds as she opens the small pantry closet. “I caught him throwing up in the neighbors’ bushes earlier.”
I crinkle my nose. “Did you clean it up?”
“Hell no.” She slams the cupboard door. “I know you think it’s your job to clean up his messes, but I don’t want any part of it.” She wanders toward the hallway, mumbling, “I’m the child, and he’s supposed to be the parent. Not the other way around.”
I sigh heavily. Out of the three of us, Bailey has the hardest time. She’s also been going through a serious emo phase lately, refusing to wear anything but black, and she is always moody. Her outlet is usually music. She spends hours blasting songs while singing and playing along on her guitar. She even writes her own music.
The problem is, about three months ago, our house got broken into. I wasn’t really surprised, considering the type of neighborhood we live in. However, Bailey’s guitar, amp, and her stereo system were all taken—stuff she had before our mom passed away. It was the only stuff of value she owned, and the guitar held sentimental value. We spent days searching pawnshops, secondhand stores, and asking around, seeing if we could find them to no avail. She’s been in a foul mood ever since.
“We should really find a way to come up with some extra cash, so we can buy her a new guitar,” Londyn says as she leans against the counter. “Maybe that’ll pull her out of her funk.”
I lie flat on the floor to look underneath the fridge for the keys. “I wish we had some extra cash, but I already had to sell some of Mom’s old jewelry so we could pay the deposits and stuff on the new house.”
“You did what?” Payton reels toward me, slamming a cupboard door.
I push up from the floor and dust off my hands. “It’s not like I wanted to, but we needed the money, and it’s the only thing of real value I could find to pawn.”
“I don’t give a shit why you did it. Mom left that jewelry to all of us, not just you.” Payton storms out of the room in the direction Bailey took off in. I’m sure she’s going to inform her of how badly she thinks I messed up.
By the time we get in the car to hit the road, the two of them will be pissed off at me and giving me the silent treatment, which isn’t always a punishment, despite what they think. Still, it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty for pawning off some of our mom’s necklaces and bracelets, but I had no other choice. I wish they would try to understand that.
“Did you get rid of her wedding ring?” Londyn asks quietly, tracing her fingertip over her ring finger.
“No, I just got rid of a couple necklaces and bracelets that she rarely wore.” I take a deep breath as tears sting my eyes. “I’d never get rid of her wedding ring, no matter how hard up for cash we are.”
She nods, lifting her gaze from her finger. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you have to make these decisions.” She smiles sadly then gives me a hug.
I hug her back, letting myself have a moment to be needy.
Out of my three sisters, I’m closest with Londyn, since we’re barely a year apart. Bailey and Payton are twins, so they’ve always paired up with each other. But Londyn and I don’t share too much in common, except for the fact that we’re tough as shit—all the Harlyton sisters are. Where Londyn is more quiet and reserved, I tend to be a bit loud and complicated. Not always intentionally. Most of my complications are just piled on me. And like I said earlier, one day I’m going to live a simple, structured life.
Our personalities aren’t the only trait that’s different. Londyn likes to rock the simple jeans, T-shirts, and Converse sneakers look; her hair is always down and straight; and she almost never wears makeup. Me, I’ve got the whole alternative, edgy thing going on. My wavy brown hair is swept to the side with tiny, woven braids on one side. Right now, I have on a black T-shirt, cut-offs, and a plaid shirt tied around my waist. My clunky boots are unlaced, several rings cover my fingers, a series of leather bands decorate my wrists, and my ears are ornamented with stud and looped earrings. Kohl eyeliner is my trademark look, along with lip gloss. I don’t have any tattoos, but I plan on getting one as soon as Payton masters the art, which is a goal of hers.
“Thanks, I needed that,” I say as Londyn pulls back from the hug.
“I could tell.” She gives a quick glance around the living room. “You know, it’s strange, but I don’t even get sad about moving anymore. I don’t think I’m even going to miss this place.”
“Me either.” It’s the truth. We didn’t live here long enough to tie ourselves to anything. Plus, we’ve gotten into the habit of not getting attached, not getting too close to the friends we make, or to the homes we live in. After the fourth move, we realized doing so only made moving harder, so we put up walls around ourselves, only letting each other in. Because, when it all comes down to it, my sisters are the only constants in my life, no matter how much we fight or wear on each other’s nerves.
Taking a final look around at the shaggy brown carpet, the bare walls, and the outdated kitchen, I sigh, ready to say goodbye to this place and get on the road.
“You know what? If Larry doesn’t know where his keys are, I say we just hotwire his truck,” I tell Londyn as I reach to close the window she opened earlier.
