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Just listen to him!
Why can’thelisten tome?
Aaand, scene. Repeat ‘til you puke.
“Are those real pearls?” I quickly change the subject, admiring the way the teardrop earrings compliment her pristine white shirt.
“Tay!”
“Guess not.”
She sighs, but I notice that she gets a little fidgety. I frown. My sister is the picture of Zen calm ninety-nine percent of the time. She only starts to get the itchy-butt face (yes, I did come up with that name when I was six years old, and yes, it does perfectly capture her lowkey anxiety) when she’s holding back a secret she really wants to let out.
“They were a… gift.”
“Wait, so theyarereal? Hold on. Who’s the guy?”
“Nuh-uh.” Celine shakes her head. “We’re talking about Dad right now.”
I groan. “Please don’t make me.”
“He loves you. He misses you. He’s miserable without you.”
“Oh, come on,” I scoff. “You still live at home.”
“Yes, but I’m not the favorite daughter.”
That one almost makes me spit out my tea. “Excuse you. I amnotthe favorite.”
Now, it’s Celine’s turn to roll her eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud, Tay. Stop acting clueless. It doesn’t suit you.”
“He loves us both equally. They both do.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Everybody loves everybody and our family is perfectly peachy.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Fine. We’ll table it for now.” She folds her hands in front of her and leans forward. “Either way, I just want you to talk to Dad. And I mean,reallytalk to him. No yelling.”
“I don’t yell until he does. And if I move back in, there’s definitely going to be yelling.”
“I’m not asking you to move back in. But the least you can do is come over to the house.”
“The last time I came over, he yelled at me and called me a ‘selfish brat.’ Mom didn’t mind that I moved out, so I don’t know what his problem is.”
Celine falls silent, twirling her hair absentmindedly with one finger as she looks at nothing and everything at once. “You know what? Sometimes, I don’t, either.”
“Come again?”
She glances at me distractedly. “Dad’s been so jumpy lately,” she whispers. “It’s like he’s spooked or something. He’s always looked at Mom as though he’s scared she’ll disappear on him. But now, he looks at me that way, too.”
“Should we suggest a therapist?”
“I did. This morning, actually,” Celine admits. “He told me that no shrink could save him, and then he went back to staring out the window.”
“You… you don’t think…?” I shake my head and abandon the thought mid-sentence. “Never mind.”
“Tell me,” she insists.
