“Because you’re a liar.”
I scoffed. “And how’s that exactly? Because I refused to unconditionally fund your bender?”
She leveled her eyes on me. Sharp blue eyes. Grace’s eyes.
“So where’s your brace?” she asked.
I blinked at her. “What?”
She glared at me. “Your brace. For your hand.”
I shifted in my seat. I’d never worn it in front of her. I’d never worn it in front of anyone except for Adrian.
“I saw it when I came to see your apartment. Before I had the baby.” She sat there, daring me to deny it. “So when were you gonna tell us? Were you just gonna, like, die and let us find out after?”
A flash of hurt flickered on her face. A microsecond of vulnerability that she covered up with the hard expression she used for a mask.
She knew. This whole time she knew.
“Did you tell Dad and Brent?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “No. But they know. We’re not idiots. We can see when you can’t even open a ketchup bottle.”
I sat back in my chair.
So this was why Dad had gotten worse. Why they both had. No wonder she went off the rails. No wonder she lost her shit.
Defeat bolted into my throat and choked me.
ALS’s grip would never let go. It just kept wrapping its tendrils around our ankles and pulling us down.
And now it had Adrian as well.
It had anyone who got close enough.
I swallowed. “I’m not sure if that’s what it is,” I said.
She scoffed. “Right.”
We fell into silence again.
She tugged at the ripped fabric on her chair. “Almost took a whole bottle the day I found out,” she said quietly. “Went right to the clinic. Got a script and everything. Didn’t fill it though. Kept telling myself that Mel would be disappointed in me if I took it while I was pregnant. It was the only thing that kept me from doing it, thinking Mel could see me.”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. “Annabel, if this is what…what it might be—I can’t keep Grace. I can keep her while you finish this program. But when you get out, you have to take her.”
She looked back at me, and all I could think was how young she was. She didn’t look nineteen. She looked like a kid. She didn’t even look old enough to drive.
“Give her to Dad.”
I stared at her. “Give her to Dad?”
“Or Brent and Joel.”
“Wha…Brent will bail the second she has a diaper blowout! He’s not ready to have a kid.” I shook my head. “You have to take care of her, Annabel. She’s yours.”
“I don’t want to. I can’t.”
I licked my lips. “Yes, you can. You can. I’ll help you. I’ll help you with money, you won’t have to work—”
“I won’t stay clean.”
She said it matter-of-factly. It wasn’t a threat. It was just a statement.
“I won’t. I want to, but if I have to take care of her, I won’t. It’s too hard. I’m just being honest. They tell me in here to speak my truth and that’s what it is. I never wanted her. I don’t want to be a mom. I can’t do it.”
“You know Dad can’t do this,” I breathed. “If something happens to me, he’ll be a mess. He’s already a mess. You can’t leave Grace with him—”
“Then find somebody else. People always want babies. She’s good. Somebody will want her.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “You can’t mean that,” I whispered. “She’s your daughter.”
She shrugged again. “Least I’m honest.”
We sat there in silence.
I studied her. Her baby face with its deep forehead lines and wear beyond her years.
She was damaged. So, so damaged.
And why wouldn’t she be?
She was only fourteen when Mel got sick. She was a child, living in a trash heap, watching her oldest sister, the one who had been the only mom she ever knew, wither and die.
And now she knew I might be dying too.
How much did I expect her to endure? She wasn’t even old enough to drink and she’d already lived through more tragedy than most people three times her age.
Her own mother had abandoned her. Then Mel died, and I left her alone with her grief and traveled the world while Dad descended further into his mental illness. She got pregnant by accident, her body taken hostage by a baby she didn’t plan and didn’t want and wasn’t emotionally capable of caring for. She was an addict. She had her own demons to deal with—and at least she was self-aware enough to recognize it.
Was I doing to her what Adrian had done to me? Insisting I knew what was best for Annabel when she was the one who had to live with her choices?
Maybe listening to her was doing what was best for her and Grace.
Even if it didn’t feel that way.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll make sure she ends up with a good family.”
For the first time in a long time, her face went soft.
Probably because for the first time in a long time, I decided to hear her.
* * *
Two hours later I sat in the parking lot of the wellness center, typing the address to my apartment building into my phone to navigate home.
Annabel had given me a long hug before I left.
I saw a spark of who she could be today. It took a while to bring it out, but it was in there. She talked about the future, about going to college and getting her degree. She wanted to do graphic design, make websites for people. I told her how impressed I was with what she did for BoobStick and her eyes lit up. She reminded me of Grace when she looks up at Adrian, that same pure happiness that I’d been afraid my sister was no longer capable of.
I’d told her it was a great idea. I liked that she was looking ahead.
I knew she could stay clean. She was strong. And she had access to all the resources she needed now. I think it freed her to admit that she needed to let Grace go. I guess it freed me too in a way. Hoping never was my favorite strategy. There was no more what-if now. I didn’t have to worry if Annabel’s addiction would ruin Grace’s life after I was gone. It wouldn’t—because Grace would be gone too.
I finished typing in the address and went to hit Send on the search bar…
And then I just stopped.
What was the point in going back to St. Paul? What was there for me?
Adrian had said his piece, and I’d said mine. He’d given me an ultimatum, and I’d given him my answer. It was over. And now everyone had what they needed. So what was the point in continuing to be there?
Annabel was getting help. Grace had Dad for now, and Dad had Sonja to support him. They’d be able to take care of Grace until I got her placed with a family. Brent was on the right track.
Adrian had his work and his bottom line.
And for the first time in a long time, I had the prospect that my family might be okay. That was more than I’d ever hoped for.
But would they still be okay if I stuck around? If they had to watch me slowly decline like they watched Melanie?
They wouldn’t. Because looking at me now was nothing but looking at the sun.
They were a fragile house of cards by an open window…and I was the breeze. I had to go.