Aunt Beth opens the door a minute later. She looks between us and then her expression ices over.
“Tell me,” she says, keeping her voice even, “that this is not what I think it is.”
“I’m sorry, Beth Ann,” Charlie says. “I brought her here before anyone else found her.”
Her eyes slide over to me and if looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. I break the gaze, looking down at my feet.
“Thea,” she says, commanding me to look at her again.
I meet her gaze but offer no explanation. My head is still spinning.
“I’ll take it from here,” she says to Charlie, coughing as she reaches for me. She pulls me through the doorway and I wait for her to yell. She says something else to Charlie under her breath. I flinch at the sound of the slamming door a second later.
“Thea,” she repeats, sniffling through her cold. She crosses her arms over her chest. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
Again, I offer no explanation.
“Are you going to speak or are you suddenly mute?” she snaps.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks, a hint of desperation in her voice. “I thought we were past this.”
“It’s nothing,” I say. I set my phone on the table in the entryway as it buzzes. “It was just a party.”
“No. Don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing. This is you drowning right in front of me and I’m not going to let that happen.”
“I was just…really anxious tonight,” I say, “and it helps loosen me up.”
She frowns. “What does that mean?”
“It helps soothe the anxiety. I can be someone fun and carefree, not someone who’s just sad all the time.”
“Oh, Thea.” I can tell she wants to hug me but refrains. “You can be that person without alcohol, you just have to learn how.” She steps closer to me. “You think it’s making it better? It’s not. And I can’t…” she shakes her head, “I won’t lose you, too. I don’t care how angry you get at me for saying this, but I think you need real help. I think you should see a therapist.”
“Oh, come on,” I start, but she cuts me off. My phone buzzes again against the table and we both glance at it.
Beth looks back at me. “No. I don’t want to hear it. You may legally be an adult but…” she pauses. “I’m letting you live here for free. As long as you live under my roof, you will abide by my rules.”
“You’re not my mom,” I spit out, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Don’t you think I know that? Trust me, I’m well aware that I’m not.” She sneezes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I burden you by coming here?”
“Thea, you know that’s not true.”
“You’re not the martyr for taking in your dead sister’s daughter.” The words are venom spewing from my lips but I can’t stop them. I see Beth recoil from them before she steps closer, closing the distance between us.
“Need I remind you that you arenotthe only person who lost someone that day,” she says. “I also lost my sister. So, even though you’re drowning in grief, take a look around and see that you’re not alone in it. I’m right there in that ocean with you.”
I stay silent, anger radiating off of me in waves as she continues. I hear my phone buzz once more against the table.
“I think it’s best that you start seeing a therapist. Someone to help you. I’ll see one, too, if that would help. You cannot use alcohol to drown out your grief and anxiety. You can have fun without it. It doesn’t have to be a crutch.”
Her words pack a punch.
“Better than ending up like you,” I mutter.
