“She’s in a mood today, that’s all.”
“It’s not just today.” Anne sighed. “To be fair to her, I’ve been doing this guest house thing a lot longer than I said I would originally. I love it, but I have to get out of her house.”
“It’sourhouse. All of ours. She always says so.”
“Yeah… she says that until I do something she doesn’t like, and then it’s her house again.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to get out of here.” Oakley pulled out the chair next to Anne and sat down. Akemi joined them, bringing three glass mugs of golden mamaki tea.
“She always says it’sourhouse,” Anne muttered. “But when I take her at her word, she gets resentful.”
“It’s our house in the sense we’ll always have a place to sleep,” Akemi said, “even if it’s on a couch, or right there in bed with Mom. But she didn’t expect you to come in and takeover.”
“It was never really our house,” Oakley added. “Even when we were babies, it was Tutu’s house. And her house was everybody’s.”
“Everyone’s and no one’s,” Anne said with a sigh.
“And that never really changed.”
“It was always packed to the gills. That’s what really makes me mad. It was always crazier than this when we were kids, right?”
“There were always foster kids coming and going,” Oakley agreed.
“It was too much! It was too much to put on us.”
“It’s the only reason we’re here,” Akemi said softly.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Anne reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m grateful that we grew up together. I’m so grateful for all four of you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
Akemi squeezed her hand.
“But that wasn’t enough for them,” Anne continued. “They had to take in more kids, and more and more. It was overwhelming. But I was never allowed to feel that way, because then I was selfish.”
“You were just a kid,” Oakley said. “Kids are allowed to be selfish.”
“Not according to Dawn,” Anne said sourly. “And I think that having a mother who always thought I was selfish actuallymademe selfish.”
“You’re not a selfish person.”
“I was so desperate for a life of my own – a life that wasonlymine – that I just left Zoe here. That’s the most selfish thing a person can do.”
“You were just a kid.”
“I wasn’t a kid. I was a mother.”
“You were both,” Akemi said. “And that’s an impossibly difficult thing. I can barely manage now, and I’m forty. Imagine trying to go it alone with a baby at seventeen.”
Anne sat up and brushed away the tears that had gathered in her eyes.
“I know I sound ungrateful. We’re so lucky to have this place. I’m so lucky that I was able to rent the rooms out for as long as I have. It got me back on my feet. That was always the plan. Now I have to figure something else out.”
“You could move in with Noah,” Oakley suggested.
“No,” Anne said. “It’s way too soon.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re right. You’ve only known him for three decades or so. You wouldn’t want to rush things.”
Anne stuck her tongue out at her sister and then took a sip of tea. She held the mug in both hands, looking down into the familiar golden liquid.
