She’d appreciated the sentiment, but the words hadn’t helped. On the contrary, they’d only made her feel more pressure to pretend she was fine. “The way you said that. For a second, you reminded me of Jackson.”
Sadia’s lashes lowered. “Does he even know Tani was in the hospital?”
“Yeah. I emailed him.”
“Maybe he didn’t get it.”
“I’m sure he got it.” He just didn’t want to come home. Jackson hadn’t even attended Paul’s funeral, though she didn’t want to remind Sadia about that.
“How do you know?”
“He responds to my emails occasionally.”
Sadia frowned. “What email address do you have?”
Livvy rattled it off. She memorized things thatwere important. Like Nicholas’s number. And her only link to her twin brother.
Sadia blinked. “I’ve emailed him there. He’s never responded. Not once.”
Oh. “Emails get lost.”
Sadia nodded, but strain had appeared around her eyes. “I sent more than a couple. But that’s fine. No big deal.”
It didn’t sound like no big deal. Livvy knew Jackson hadn’t maintained his ties to anyone but her, and then, only in the most cursory ways, but she hadn’t realized Sadia had tried to reach out to him. “Do you want me to tell him to contact you?”
“Uh, no. That’s fine. I don’t know what we’d even talk about, it’s been so long.” Sadia shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “In any case, if he doesn’t respond when it comes to his brother’s death or his mother’s illness, he’s certainly not going to pick up the phone because you told him to chat with me.”
Livvy winced. She wanted to defend Jackson, but she wasn’t sure how. He should have contacted Sadia when Paul died. Especially if the woman had tried to contact him.
“Mom! Can I have chocolate milk?”
“Of course,” Sadia called out and strode to the fridge. “Can you go on out there and check on things while I make Kareem some milk?”
Livvy suspected Sadia wasn’t really concerned about how her son was faring with his grandmothers, but she respected giving people their alone time when they needed it. “Sure.”
In the living room, Aunt Maile was busy at work knitting, and Kareem and Tani’s heads were bent over something.
“Draw me another one, Grandma,” Kareem demanded.
“What are you doing?” Livvy asked, craning her neck to see what was on her mother’s legal pad. She caught a glimpse of a cartoon character before her mom covered the pad with her hand.
A torn-out page rested by Kareem’s leg, and Livvy picked it up, recognizing the chubby character instantly. “Hey. This is really good.”
“It’s nothing. Something to amuse the boy.” Her mother tried to snatch the paper, but Livvy neatly sidestepped her, taking in the sketch. This wasn’t good, it was excellent, the character’s face set in his usual sour lines, his leg raised like he was about to step off the page.
“It’s not nothing. I can’t tell you how many requests I get for this tattoo.”
“People get cartoon tattoos?” Kareem asked.
“Sure,” she said, at the same time her mom sternly said, “No.”
“You will not be getting any tattoos,” Tani told her grandson, ignoring Livvy. “It’s not for respectable people.”
Her heart jumped at the hint of subtle criticism. It was a happy jump.You’re sick to crave this type of attention.
Sadia joined them and perched on the arm of the sofa, holding the milk out to her child. Her face was placid again, whatever tension Jackson’s namehad invoked gone. “Mom’s always drawing stuff for Kareem.”
“She is? You never drew stuff for us.” Her mother had loved and appreciated art, and she’d used a tiny room above their garage to store her supplies. Livvy had started sneaking sketchbooks and materials out of there from the time she was in third grade. It had been one thing they’d had in common.
