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Jess is too nice for me. But I’m trying to deserve her anyway. “What is it you think I’m going to do to her?”
“What you always do.” She stares at the skyline. “You’ll stick around until things fall apart, then you’ll leave her to deal with the mess.”
And... we’re not talking about Jess anymore. I hate the rift dividing Coley and me. Until the last few months, we’ve always been on the same side. If I can’t have Mom, why can’t I at least have my sister?
Her head tips toward the glass. “Mom’s asking for you.”
“Are you sure she’s not asking for David?” Standing, I grip the back of my neck with both hands and squeeze stone-sized knots. Mom hasn’t talked tomesince I made The Oasis decision—the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. David, yes. The day we checked her in, she only talked tohim.
Turning toward me, she links her fingers together. “Remember the day Mom lost you at the park?”
“When I was five. She went crazy tearing through that wooden maze, crying and screaming my name.” While I was sitting underneath a bench trying to feed my sandwich to a squirrel.
“It’s like that,” she whispers, gripping her arms. “She doesn’t understand why you’re not there.” Her eyes well. “I tried to tell her. But she cries. She just won’t stop crying.” She swipes at the first tears that break free, smearing her mascara.
Her words take a nine iron to my kidneys. My shoulders. My stomach. “By the time I get there, she might not even... if it’s like last time...” I swallow hard to keep my throat from closing up. Icannothandle a repeat of last time.
“I’ll drive.” She pulls her keys from her pocket.
I rub my knuckles over what feels like deep-tissue bruising inside my chest. “I can’t—”
“If she could just see you, touch you.” She points her keys at me, lips trembling. “Everything will be okay. She’ll be okay.”
“Coley.” My heartbeats turn savage. “Mom will never be okay.”
“Don’t you dare say no to me.” Her regular stare turns into Mom’s parental glare. “Sometimes you have to do the hard thing. You can freaking do something you don’t want to do once.”
“I do things I don’t want to all the time. I’m taking over the power of attorney. Signing the papers. Making the decisions.” I was the one who sent her to that place. That nine-iron swings for round two.
“She just wants you to love her. That’s what I’m doing—loving her.”
“I love her.”
“Prove it.”
I glance at the Fireball, ready for a reality break.
Her gaze follows mine, and a little bit of hysterical jumps into her eyes. “Before Mom, you never drank. But then again, you weren’t a freaking coward either.” Storming over to the tall armoire, she grabs one of the bottles, and snaps the seal. “Maybe youshouldget drunk. Is that what it will take for you to man up?” She thrusts the open bottle at me. “Get your buzz on, get your butt in the car, and we’ll go see Mom.”
I rip the bottle from her hands and drink. Not because I’m four steps from rehab. Not because I don’t hear that voice inside my head that sounds suspiciously like David shouting for me to grow up. I drink and I fail and I let her down because that might be the only thing I’m good at. A few shots later, a solid burn running down my throat and through my body, I reach over her head and slam the bottle back on the edge of the tall armoire.
Only my angry gesture knocks it over, and cinnamon whiskey rains over my shirt, Coley’s hair, and her clothes.
chapter 25
Jess
Mom threw every single piece of her wedding China at Dad tonight. On my way to my closet, I slammed the full glass of Jack Daniels he left on the counter. So gross. But the buzz was worth the burn. It muted the noise blaring from the dining room and the noise screaming inside me.
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age16)
Galaxies from the girl who changed her outfit seventeen times for the panel, I’ve yanked my hair into a tight French braid, stepped into semi-wrinkled linen pants, and thrown on a peach summer sweater with hanger marks on the shoulders for the luncheon.
I glance at the time, then at my cell.If your butt isn’t planted in the seat next to mine in ten minutes, I’m sending Donna.
Vi’s threat is the only reason I’m not still crying in the bathroom reading my favorite excerpts from the diary. Lately, I skip over the parts that involve Mom drinking. I left them out ofHauntedtoo. There’s no reference to Jack Daniels or theAword that I hate. I made Sara’s way of dealing with her problems at home shutting everyone out and hiding from the world. Kind of like me before this conference. Before Gabe.
Gabe. Before I dissolve into another puddle on the bathroom floor, I pull open my door.
