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I didn’t think she did it maliciously. I think she just wanted to help and didn't know what else to do. Probably because she never had to deal with our mother the way I had to.
Everything was always so effortless for her. She was the easy child, the independent one, the smart one, the pretty one. I was always the problem. Always too loud, too messy, too much.
I was always just too much.
I don’t think Mom ever really loved my dad, not the way she loved Meredith’s dad, and it always showed. It wasn’t Meredith’s fault Mom loved her more—and I’m not saying that as the bitter younger sister. It’s just a fact. But I still resented her for it. And that made me hate myself.
Who resented their dead sister?
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I’ll just keep my thoughts to myself.”
If only she’d really do that.
Eli didn’t say anything. Not that I expected him to. He just watched us and gave me a tight-lipped smile, his expression sad. I didn’t think his sadness had anything to do with me, though. It was still about Meredith.
Not that I blamed him.
Before Mom could say anything else, the bell above the door chimed, and I sent a silentthank youto the Universe for saving me. I shot out of my chair, nearly tripping over my feet to get away from her.
“Aren’t you going to take Eli’s order?” she asked, barely holding back the sneer in her voice. My shoulders tightened, and I held my breath, counting back from five in my head.
“Right,” I finally breathed.
“It’s fine.” He waved me off, but I already had my notepad and pen out and ready. Emma threw a creamer packet at Mom, hitting her on the side of the head.
“Emma!” she scolded. She tried to take her unicorn, and Emma let out a screech that made me wince.
The diner quieted, everyone’s attention turning toward us. Mom glanced around, laughing slightly, before taking her hand away. But I saw it; the flash of anger cross her face before schooling her features into a soft smile.
“Emma, don’t throw things at Grammy,” she said playfully, tickling her side. There was a brief pause, and I waited for Eli to say something, to reprimand Mom for scolding his child, but he stayed silent.
“Em, what do you want for breakfast?” he asked.
“Ice cream!” He sighed tiredly, and glanced at Mom, then me.
“How about some pancakes?”
“Ice cream, Daddy!” she screamed. My eye twitched at the sharp sound, but I kept my mouth shut. He sighed again, defeated.
He turned toward me, giving me an exhausted smile. “Can she just get a small bowl of chocolate ice cream?” he asked softly. I nodded, not bothering to write it down.
“You’re just letting her get what she wants?” Mom asked, her lip curling back.
“It’s easier than her throwing a tantrum,” he said. “I’m picking my battles here, Cora.” Mom’s brows rose at his tone. Even I took a step back, trying to hide my shock.
Before Meredith’s death, Eli had been the most easy-going person I’d ever met. And I was surrounded by hippies for a living. His calmness would rival even the most seasoned yogi. Now, his calmness felt more like emptiness. Like he was defeated and barely hanging on by a thread.
“You’re the parent,” she said.
“What do you want, Eli?” I interrupted, changing the subject. She gave me a sharp look, and my heart lurched into my throat. I knew I’d hear about it later, but I just couldn’t stand the look he had on his face anymore.
Couldn’t she see he was struggling? She probably did. She just didn’t give a shit.
“I’m fine with coffee.” He was thinner than he’d been at the funeral, less muscular and more lithe. Was he not eating? I scanned the dark circles, his hollow, pale face, and felt my heart break.
Our gaze held for a moment too long, then I stepped back, dipping my head as I turned toward the kitchen. Mom started in on him about Emma again, and I wanted to scream at her to just stop.
If I was Eli, I would’ve moved as far away from this place as possible, not looking in my rearview mirror for a second. Why would he want to stay here? Meredith wanted to be close to Mom, but what was his excuse?
