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“He worked so hard,” I said. “He was always so excited about giving us the best things. Private school for me. Horse-riding for Mom. Amazing holidays. A bigger house. Just to make us happy. Now I wish we could take it all back, and live a simple small life.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Chiara.
“The day they came to the house to arrest him was such a shock,” I said. “I was fourteen. A stupid kid. My best friend had come over for a sleepover and we were having dinner when they broke down the door. They could have just knocked, but they broke it down.”
“Bastards,” she said viciously.
The tightness on her face made me realise that she was remembering intruders breaking into her own home, which I had not meant to remind her of.
I moved on quickly. “You know what the worst thing was? We were all so shocked, but my friend took out her phone to record it all, to make sure there would be evidence of a miscarriage of justice. False arrest. That kind of thing. But the next day in school, she’d shared the video with everyone and they were all laughing about it.”
“No way.”
I nodded. “Laughing at my mom screaming and trying to drag Dad back from the cops who had him in cuffs. Laughing at me trying to tell the cops my dad was innocent. I confronted my friend, expected her to apologise, to say that she hadn’t meant for it to get to everyone. Instead, I got a cold shoulder. She iced me out. They all did. I guess they could see the tide turning. It was me who couldn’t.”
“That sucks,” she said.
I shrugged. “Pretty much that day my life as I knew it was gone. I just didn’t know it yet. Your dad’s a criminal and your mom’s a looney, they said. I kept thinking they’d have to say they were sorry when it all turned out to be a mistake. What a fool. But I guess it didn’t matter in the end—I had to drop out of school after they froze Dad’s accounts. We couldn’t afford the fees anymore.”
“Oh shit,” said Chiara.
I laughed at myself. “What a sob story, huh? I guess the thing is, despite all the crap, I never stopped loving my dad. My brain kinda knew there must be some truth to what he was being accused of, but my heart kept screaming that he was my dad, the best dad, and he had to be innocent. But no one wants to hear that, do they? They just want you to get over it. Move on. And if you don’t, you must be stupid. People run out of patience really quick.”
“Tell me about it,” she said glumly. She mimicked her mom. “Go to tennis, Chiara. Why aren’t you hanging out with your friends, Chiara? What’s wrong with you? Why are you in your room all the time?”
Her cheeks flushed with anger again.
“She’s worried about you,” I said quietly. “I’m worried about you too.”
She laughed bitterly. “Why would you care?”
I shrugged. “I guess I remember what it was like when my life fell apart. No one can tell you anything that makes it better. It took me years before I could talk about it to anyone. I was lucky. I found a really good friend. Dolly.”
My voice trailed off, my heart growing heavy. I wasn’t ready to talk about Dolly yet. I couldn’t even explain to myself, let alone anyone else, what her loss meant to me. That she had died because of me.
I shook my head, trying to shake the grief away.
The look on Chiara’s face told me she had recognised Dolly’s name. She didn’t ask about her. She was quiet a moment, then she said, “You don’t need to worry about me. I didn’t do it on purpose, you know.”
“The overdose?”
She nodded. “It was stupid, really. I was having fun with my friends, just us girls chatting. Then one of them goes on about some guy she got off with, that he was rough—the prick—and that she wasn’t sure if she liked it.”
I inhaled sharply.
Chiara nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I said. Did he make you do it? Who was he? I was so angry. But they all just laughed it off, like I was being too dramatic.”
“Didhe…?” I said.
She shrugged angrily. “She wouldn’t admit it. Didn’t want the others to think she was making a scene. They kept saying I should lighten up. And it just pissed me off so much. And… I don’t know. I got mad. Guess I thought the booze and pills might help. Just party it off, you know? But I went a bit overboard.”
My heart had started pounding. Underneath her words, I sensed something left unsaid.
“Chiara,” I said hesitantly. “Did… did someone hurt you? That night they broke in?”
“No!” she snapped. She turned her back on me, started fidgeting with the jars of beads I had brought for her, dumping them out on the floor, mixing them up.
A sick silence filled the room. I was shaking.
