“He’s trying. He’s called. He’s texted. You’re not giving him a chance.”
“Piper, I swear…I don’t want to talk about Davis.”
“But you care about him. I know you do.”
She flings the papers. They go sailing across the table, then flutter to the floor. They’re lease applications, I see now, and they’re everywhere. She shoves her chair back so hard it rams into the wall, leaving a scuff, then pushes to her feet, snapping, “Sometimes caring isn’t enough. Sometimes caring leads to more trouble. More hurt.”
I blink, taken aback by the way she just voiced the position I maintained right up until I reconnected with Henry.
She adds, “You only want me to call Davis so you can make peace with Henry.”
“How do you know he and I aren’t at peace?”
“Because he hasn’t been over here all weekend, and you haven’t left the apartment. You miss him, hence your opportunistic suggestion that I call his father. Everything you do—everything you say—is self-serving.”
Something heavy materializes in my stomach. Why does shealwaysput me down? “That’s not true. I’ve been watching you mope since Friday. Is it such a stretch that I want you to be happy?”
“Yes,” she says, taking an antagonistic step into my space. Her gaze flicks to the stud in my nose before she meets my eyes.“You go out of your way to push my buttons, to wear down my patience, to make me worry, all because I’m not—”
She’s standing so close I can smell her jasmine perfume. She overlined her lips, faking a fuller mouth, before she layered on her Ruby Woo. God, she pisses me off.
“You’re not what, Tati?”
“Nothing.” She sets her mouth in a hard line, breathing heavily for no good reason.
“Say what you were going to say. I’m sure it’s nasty, and that’s what you want, isn’t it? To hurt me?”
“Yes, Piper, that’s always my goal,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What I wasgoingto say is that you make me feel like shit all the time because I’m not Mom and Dad. Because Ican’t beMom and Dad.”
“You’re right about that. Mom and Dad loved me. They gave me chances, and taught me things, and wanted me to grow. To thrive. All you want is for me to turn out like you.”
She shakes her head in disgust. “I want you to be an independent, productive member of society. Not a drunk. Not a criminal. Not a leech.”
I got wasted at Gabi’s party.
I broke into the Marine Conservation Park.
I lost my first and only paying job, and I’m too cowardly, too embarrassed, to tell anyone.
Tati’s accusations might be malicious, but they’re not untrue.
“I’m not mean for the joy of it,” she goes on. “It’s not easy, putting in forty hours a week at a job I dislike, taking care of ateenager who hates me, living in a town I spent my adolescence desperate to leave. I’m lonely. I’m stressed. And I’m tired.”
I feel bad for her—a part of me has for years—but my pity is overshadowed by animosity.
“I’mso sorryMom and Dad left you to do the dirty work,” I say, my volume rising. “At least you had a normal childhood. At least you got to grow up with them!”
“Yeah, lucky me,” she replies with so much disdain I lose my breath.
How dare she disparage our parents?
Can’t she see that I’m hurting? Doesn’t she care?
“They shouldn’t have chosen you to be my guardian,” I tell her. “They should’ve known you’d treat me like a burden. They should’ve known you wouldn’t want this life.”
She stares at me, her eyes sparking with an emotion I can’t name:furyis inadequate,devastationtoo weak.
“You haveno ideawhat you’re talking about,” she says.
