AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Gee, I wish I could, Sky, and I actually took the day off, but it’s to help Mom.”
I feel a prickling sensation in my stomach. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes, fine—but that’s when we’re going to be prepping for the tag sale next Saturday.”
I can’t help but flinch. When I was home over Labor Day weekend, I’d heard my mother tell Nicky that she was hoping to hold a yard sale this fall to unload small furniture and tchotchkes before she and David downsized to a town house in late November, and I assumed she’d fill me in once a date was confirmed. Not only would I have been more than willing to help in the effort, I also wanted the chance to grab a few mementos from the suburban house I’d more or less grown up in. But she’s never said a word.
“No, I hadn’t heard.”
“Uh, I’m sure Mom didn’t want to bother you. I mean, it’s going to be kind of tedious—going through closets and the basement, and, you know, putting stickers on stuff. Mostly Mom just wants to get rid of it all.”
Nicky’s gone into overexplaining mode, something she does when feeling self-conscious.
“Got it, and no worries,” I reassure her, then promise to call her with an update.
Poor Nicky, I think, as I drop the phone on the table. Once again she’s caught in the middle, and I know she’s probably feeling bad now. Slumping back in the chair, I glance in Tuna’s direction. She shoots me an inscrutable look but then resumes licking her fur on the couch, in a way that could put me in a hypnotic trance if I stared too long. Though I never wanted a cat, I think I could warm to her if she only gave me half a chance.
I clear my plate and utensils from the table and set them in the kitchen sink, toying with the idea of calling my mother and asking her point-blank why she didn’t ask for my assistance with the tag sale. But I don’t have the nerve, and she’d only lie, anyway, probably say she had no idea I’d want to give up a workday, especially with my show at the gallery coming up.
But the truth is my mother doesn’t want me there. More and more she seems to find ways to distance herself or reasons to keep me out of the mix with her, David, and Nicky. Because she still blames me for what happened to my half sister, Chloe, which basically ruined my family’s life. And maybe she has a right to.
3
Twelve Years Ago
DO YOU WANT TO COME, TOO, CHLOE?”
I was on the phone with my younger sister, inviting her to a party being given by a grad school classmate of mine. Purely by coincidence we were studying in Boston at the same time, me getting an MFA in painting at BU—after a couple of years working and saving while I lived at home—and Chloe finishing her third year at Emerson, with hopes of eventually becoming a Christiane Amanpour–style war correspondent, or news anchor, or host of her own TV show, or whatever was guaranteed to bring the most fame and fortune.
But the minute the words were out of my mouth, I wondered if I’d live to regret them. I loved Chloe, I did. And despite the four years between us, we mostly got along, laughing at the same jokes, watching Netflix together, and sometimes even trading foot massages on the couch. But though I loved her, I didn’t alwayslikeher.
Chloe, you see, could be careless. Thoughtless, too. She craved attention, which meant she tended to get sulky and irritable whenthe spotlight wasn’t planted firmly on her, or if life wasn’t going her way. There were repercussions at times to that kind of behavior, and though she never seemed to mind them—I once watched her smile and say,Thank you, to a woman who’d called her a bitch for cutting into a line—I didn’t enjoy seeing them unfold in front of me.
That Friday morning in late April, however, I felt I had no choice but to throw her a lifeline. My mother had mentioned to me recently that Chloe was on the outs with the in-girl crowd she’d befriended her freshman year and was having a tough time as a result. More and more I sensed my mother needed regular reassurance that the life she had with David was better than the one she’d left behind with my dad, and part of my role in that was looking out for my younger half sisters.
“Who’s going to be there?” Chloe asked.
“A bunch of kids from my program. And apparently my friend’s younger brother will be there, too, along with some kids he knows from MIT. He’s a senior, I think.”
Silence followed, and I assumed she was still making up her mind.
“It might not be too exciting, though,” I added, giving her an out. “Probably just thirty or forty people, and there won’t be a keg or anything like that.”
“Skyler, I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m intokeg parties. No, it sounds like fun, and it means we get to spend some time together.”
Since the party was twenty or so miles outside the city in Dover, and I was the one with a car, I offered to pick her up.Be out in front at 7:30 sharp, I’d told her, but she was nowhere in sight when I pulled up to her building, and the text I sent elicited only an all-lowercase reply ofcoming. I was about to circle the block for the third time when Chloe sauntered out of the lobby, flung the door open, and burst into the car, nearly choking me with the overwhelming floral scent of her perfume.
As usual, she looked gorgeous. She’d recently cut her wavy, buttery blond hair to shoulder length, and the result was stunning. It was, she’d told me, in preparation for her internship at a Hartford TV station that summer. She was going for a more professional look, so she’d be seen as “assignment ready” in case some sort of a virus felled most of the reporting staff.
And her outfit was perfect—tight jeans, cute boots, and a blue ruched top that matched her eyes and emphasized how perfectly in shape she was.
“You look pretty,” she said to me after checking her reflection in the visor mirror. “I love your hair like that.”
“Thanks.”
I knew I wasn’t in Chloe’s league, but I’d made a real effort that night, styling my light brown hair in a sloppy topknot, applying a full face of makeup, and wearing my best low-cut jeans with a tight pink cashmere tee. A guy from one of my painting classes, Carson, whom I’d been lusting for all semester, had mentioned that he was going to the party. I couldn’t tell if he’d done it purposefully, but I wanted to put my sexiest, un-oil-paint-spattered foot forward and see what might unfold. I’d even stuffed a few condoms in my purse just in case.
Chloe sighed. “What’s your friend’s name and how come she lives all the way out in Dover?”
