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Willow shrugs. "She keeps begging me to convince you to call her—or take her calls."
I bet she does. She must want money. "The only thing that she and I have had in common for a long time is you, Willow. You don't live with her anymore, so I don't have to put up with her now."
"She wasn't that bad. She didn't hit us or anything."
Willow never has or could get it. She wasn't the one working her ass off to feed her sister. "Sure. But she wasn't a mother either. I don't hate her. I just don't care."
Maybe there's something wrong with me for being capable of completely closing myself off from someone I'm related to. But whenever I think of my parents, what I remember is the embarrassment and fear when I was stealing food off the shelf, or changing Willow's every diaper—and my sister sitting in filth when I didn't.
They took better care of me than they did Willow, I think. I should be grateful. I'm not.
"Fine. I can tell her I tried. Do my hair?"
* * *
I've never had a real Thanksgiving. Lola, Erica, and I used to hang out during the holiday and make our own version, using leftover Halloween candy. A few years, I made a pumpkin or cherry pie for Willow, but we've never had anything like the spread at the Crawfords' table.
I eat like there's no tomorrow, like everyone around the table. John's mother is a hoot—drunk and happy to tease the shit out of her family—and the kids, twenty-two and thirty, respectively, are nice to me and Willow. The son flirts a little with me, but Willow puts an end to that, pointedly mentioning myboyfriend. When did my sister become so observant?
The Crawfords do their best to include us—even me—but in the evening, I decide to head out to give them some family time. We watch a movie and eat pizza from a random hole-in-the-wall. Willowwasright. It's considerably better than any slice I've ever tasted. I couldn't live in New York City. I'd be the size of a house if I did.
The next day, we go shopping. I didn't expect the weather to be so drastically different here. My red leather jacket doesn't cut it, so I buy a coat and boots. I feel a little bad, because I'm not likely to wear either much back home, but at least it was half price on Black Friday.
I also buy lingerie. Willow goads me into it, and I get it without trying it on first just to shut her up.
When I head back with my purchases—and the mountain of clothes Willow talked me into getting for her—several black boxes with big red bows await me.
Willow gushes over the packages, excited to see what's inside, but I hesitate, guessing their provenance. Who knows, there could be butt plugs in there. I shoot Camden a quick text.
Me: Is it safe to open your presents in front of my sister?
Camden: Why wouldn't it be?
Me: Because it's you. Could be lingerie or something inappropriate.
Camden: Don't tell me you're an overprotective sister? You know Willow likely sucks cocks already, right?
Me: She's FOURTEEN
Camden: And I had my cock sucked at fourteen. Just because you saved yourself for me doesn't mean other people get their first gray hair before they discover their libido.
I send him an emoji of a one finger salute.
Camden: You can open them in front of your sister.
He sends me an eye roll now.
I'm not exactly reassured by the exchange, so I start with the larger parcel. I can't imagine something that big being too depraved.
Willow gasps as I reveal a red dress, not unlike the one I wore at the gala on our first Friday. Thankfully, it looks warmer—velvet, maybe. Camden likes me in red.
The next package contains shoes—black heels, but with signature red soles. The color matches the dress perfectly.
The third and last present is a smaller square box. The size is obnoxious. I want to take a peek before revealing it to Willow, just in case, but the minx's totally peeking over my shoulder.
The box contains two things, one of which already belongs to me: the necklace Camden gave me in September. But right at its center, there's a smaller circular piece, matching the stones and diamonds. A bracelet.
He did tell me the necklace was part of a set at the time.
