She makes a sound in her throat. “Yes. You’re crying.”
“He’s going to need you out there. Dad. He’ll need your help.”
She looks conflicted.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Did you want to take something to help you sleep?” she asks.
“No. I want to watch the movie. They’re a good family.” I used to have that and it all went to hell in one day. How does that happen?
“Okay, honey. I’ll come check on you.”
“M’kay. Thank you.”
“I love you, Tera,” she tells me.
“I love you, too.”
I may call her Sandy, but to me, she’s my second mom.
“Can you call my mom?” I ask.
“I already did. Rest now.”
The door opens and the dull roar of heated voices turns into an explosion of raised, angry voices. When it closes, I’m once again cocooned in the solitude of my room. I press play on the remote and pretend that’s my family on screen—that it hasn’t just shattered.
