THE

GIRL
ONCE
KNOWN

R.M. DEMEESTER

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 COPYRIGHT PAGE
Copyright © 2024 R.M. Demeester
All Rights Reserved.
Published in Canada
ISBN: 9781777331498
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission
of the publisher.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY ONE
TWENTY TWO
TWENTY THREE
TWENTY FOUR
TWENTY FIVE
TWENTY SIX
TWENTY SEVEN
TWENTY EIGHT
TWENTY NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY ONE
THIRTY TWO
THIRTY THREE
THIRTY FOUR
THIRTY FIVE
THIRTY SIX
THIRTY SEVEN
THIRTY EIGHT
THIRTY NINE
FORTY
FORTY ONE
FORTY TWO
EPILOGUE

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 PROLOGUE
Joseph
2006
I messed up big time.
"Babe, please wait!" But Mira didn't turn around. The door slammed,
and she sprinted outside into the storm. I ran after her, still calling for her to
stop. When I realized she wasn't going to, I snatched my shoes, pulling
them on as I awkwardly stumbled after her.
Mira disappeared from view. I had seen her mad before, but not like
this. No, this was different. This could change how she looked at me.
Forever.
Things had been up and down lately, and I had wanted tonight to be so
much different. Jesus, what happened?
I grabbed my keys; I needed to find her. It was after 2 a.m. and pouring
outside, and the wind felt like a brewing hurricane. I drove around
endlessly. Every passing alley revealed nothing but emptiness. She couldn't
have gone very far with this heavy rain. Maybe she called for a ride or
found shelter? God, either of those was better than thinking of her soaked to
the bone, catching a cold, shivering…
I smashed her number into my phone, my eyes struggling to focus on
the road while dialing the numbers, but her voicemail dinged promptly in
my ear. Please answer the phone! Why didn't she stop when I called for her?
She should have stopped! I didn't want it to end this way.
Water splashed my window and windshield as I bounded through
massive potholes filled with rain. I couldn't see anything, and the heavy rain
and wind made it so much worse. I turned onto another street, scanning the
sidewalks on both sides.
One more turn down a dark street, and there she was. I exhaled; I hadn't
even realized I'd been holding my breath. Now I could smooth things over
and convince her to come home, so I pulled over slowly fifty feet away,
flipping off my lights as I did. She had been so angry when she left, so I
didn't want to spook her again.
 I flung my door open to jump out, but out of nowhere, a dark green car
sped past, nearly winging my car, their tires skidding on the wet pavement.
To my horror, they were heading right for Mira.
I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, blaring the horn.
"Move, Mira!" I screamed, though it was fruitless in the rain's din. My heart
pounded as the car didn't slow. Why the hell was she just standing there?
Dammit! Get out of the way!
I closed my door, still blaring the horn faster and faster until it was one
solid din. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. "Stop!" I
screamed.
But they weren't stopping.
It was then Mira must have finally spotted the car, but, oh god, it was
too late. Before I could get my car into gear, she hit the ground as the car
rammed her, her head bouncing against the concrete curb. The car
screeched to a stop, reversed, and peeled away around her, the taillights
disappearing down the street.
Screeching my car to a halt, I slammed the car door open and sprinted
toward her. I fell to my knees and swept the hair away from her face. "Babe,
y-you're going to be all right. A car hit you, but you're going to be fine! You
hear me? Stay with me." I tried my best to reassure her, but there was no
meaningful response. “I’m calling for help.”
Mira's eyes were so hollow it made a chill shoot down my spine. Did
she not recognize me? Her head had collided with the curb so hard I knew
she wasn't okay, and I immediately blamed myself. This couldn't be
happening. If it weren't for her rapid, jerky breaths, I'd think she was dead.
If I wasn't there, she would be all alone here, left to die. I halted my
thoughts right there. I couldn't handle it. I didn't want to go back to that
dark place, that time when... Not now. Not ever.
I wanted to break something. This was no accident. I stared down at
Mira, held her hand, and silently promised her that someone would pay for
this.
Then I called 911.

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 ONE

Mira
1998

The sun shone through my curtains, making everything seem more magical.
My bedroom smelled fresh, like laundry, with a nice, clean scent that made
me happy, just like my teddy bear, Mr. Bear.
I found some crumbs that the vacuum had missed from yesterday's
snack and felt proud as I picked up each one on my hands and knees. I put
them in an old Tupperware bowl I borrowed from the kitchen and never
returned.
My TV played my favorite show, Tiny Toons, on a glitchy screen, but it
was still entertaining. I wanted to set up my dolls and stuffed animals in a
line for a parade. Teddy went first, as he's the tallest, then Dolly, then Billy
the Bear, and Mr. Snuggles last, who was the smallest.
I couldn’t believe I was ten years old. I felt like I should know more,
like maybe everything would be okay if I was just better at things. I
remembered when I was five or six, after arranging my crayons by color or
lining up my toy cars by size, my mom would give me a weird look. "Why
can't you play like other kids?" she'd ask. She didn't understand why I liked
things neat and tidy.
Then I heard my mom and dad talking on the other side of the door. I
pressed my ear against it, trying to catch them talking about me. Had I
made another mistake? "I mean it, Mark, a ten-year-old girl shouldn't
behave like that. Take Tiffany, for example. She makes messes, plays with
dolls, and hangs out with friends like girls her age do. Nothing is normal
with Mira. Just yesterday, she spent an hour organizing her socks. She
matched them by color, then by length. What girl her age does that?"
"Sherry, she's just organized, that's all. Remember how she arranged
her toys into a little town when she was five, and we entered a photo for
that city hall contest? It was adorable. I don't see what's wrong with a bit of
order."
 "That was for something special. A child wanting something to be
perfect for a big event is one thing. But it’s all the time. It’s not only about
the socks. Last week at the supermarket, she started arranging the fruit by
size and color. People were staring... it was... embarrassing,” my mother's
voice cracked. I hated that she was embarrassed by me. "I've spoken to a
child psychologist. I've researched online. This isn't normal. They're
symptoms."
My room felt really small. My homework was undone. I had stacked
the worksheets and textbooks in a neat pile in the upper left corner of my
desk. I didn't understand how to do them and was too afraid to ask for help.
I felt judged.
I heard Dad laugh from the other side of my bedroom door. "Oh, come
on, Sherry. Now you're playing armchair psychologist? She's just a
meticulous kid, not a case study.”
"She's not doing well in school," Mom's voice rose when she felt like
she wasn't being heard. "She neglected her history assignment to
alphabetize her books. Mira's desk is immaculate, but according to Mrs.
Anderson, her work is never done. She doesn't pay attention and is always
in her own little world, or finding something else to clean or organize.
This... this isn't healthy.”
I looked at all the neat books on my shelf. They were all in a line. From
A to Z, colors followed in order. It was nice to look at.
Dad laughed. “A clean desk is a sign of a clean mind. She's doing better
than most kids running wild.”
Was he trying to sugarcoat things? My homework wasn't done, and I
didn’t even touch my math problems. That scared me a bit.
I only wanted to clean and organize my room. But I didn't. Instead, I
just hugged my knees, looking down at my dress, its spots seeming to
dance. Mom thinks I'm weird. Not just Mom, but practically everyone.
My teacher last year told me something I would never forget. She said
if I focused more on math and less on organizing my desk, my marks in
school would improve, and I would make more friends if I participated in
what they were doing. She probably meant well, but she only made me feel
stupid and weird.
My Tamagotchi beeped, annoying me. Dad's old computer, which he
gave to me when he bought a new one, hummed annoyingly. I grabbed Mr.
Bear.
 I whispered to my bear, "Dad doesn't think I'm weird." Sometimes,
when Dad wasn't busy, he would sit with me, and things felt okay.
They have been arguing a lot lately. I wonder if Tiffany heard them
arguing as much as I did. What if they got a divorce? Would it be my fault?
I wanted to hide and be alone. I wished everything would stop for a bit.

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 TWO
Mira
1998
The room smelled funny. That, and the mess. It was my special place, but
then my sister Tiffany would come in and mess everything up. She was so
loud and wouldn't stop talking about her playdate with Sarah.
"And Sarah said I'm the best at hopscotch!" Tiffany squealed, messing
up my Barbie's clothes and throwing them in a pile on the bed.
I felt very uncomfortable inside. She was messing up all my stuff. I bit
my lip and tried hard not to get mad. I tried to make Tiffany calm down.
“Did you ask Sarah about the book she read last week?" I wanted to think
about anything that didn’t involve the mess she had made.
Tiffany rolled her eyes, making a big deal of not caring about my
question. "Who cares about books? We played. We had fun. You should try
it sometime." She flicked a tiny pink shoe without even thinking, and it
ended up under the bed.
I looked at all the mess she made with my dolls. Did Tiffany like mess?
How could she? It made little sense to me. "I... I have fun," I tried to say,
my hands already trying to fix the mess she'd made.
Tiffany made fun of me. "Cleaning and organizing aren't fun. They're
chores. You're like a little old lady.” She picked up one of my dolls, then
dropped it back into the messy pile.
She just made me feel like something was wrong with me.
But then Mom stood in the doorway. "Girls, time for supper. Wash up."
Tiffany jumped up excitedly and ran into the hallway.
I sat in the middle of my messed-up room, feeling sad. My dolls and
their clothes were all over. I tried not to cry, tracing the tiny plastic clothes
on the rug with my fingers.
I was cleaning my messy bedroom floor when Mom suddenly appeared
in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips. She looked annoyed.
"Why aren't you ready for supper?"
I just wanted to pick up my Barbie shoes. "I, uh... I was putting away
the Barbies," I nervously said.
 Mom sighed. "Just do it later, okay? Come eat."
I could still feel my heart racing. I needed to use the bathroom quickly
to avoid upsetting Mom, especially during supper.
I turned on the water and reached for the lilac-scented soap.
It smelled just like the flowers from Grandma's garden.
Grandma used to say a weird thing. She said that sometimes, like a
delicate flower, we must let go and nurture growth elsewhere.
But I didn't get it.
But when I asked Mom about it, she said it didn't matter.
That saying seemed to upset her for some odd reason.
Shoving that thought out of my head, I counted in my head.
One to ten.
I remember a teacher saying ten was a good number to count to.
I washed my hands and turned off the water. As I stepped out of the
bathroom, I heard Tiffany laughing downstairs, almost drowned out by the
loud TV playing the Full House theme.
"Did you know, Dad? The Tanners’ address—1882 Girard Street—it's
not even a real place!"
I sat in my seat, not saying a word. The wooden chair felt smooth and
worn under my fingertips. Everyone around the table talked and laughed. I
felt like an outsider.
Dad looked up. "Really? You sure about that?" He smiled at her like he
did me.
He was so much nicer than Mom.
"Yup, Dad! I double-checked!"
“That’s great, honey.” Then he looked at me. "And Mira, how was your
day?"
I hesitated, playing with the food on my plate. "I cleaned my room,
played with my Barbies—well, before Tiffany came in, and then just...
kinda hung out."
"That sounds nice.”
But Tiffany was ready with a snappy comeback. "That's all she ever
does, Dad. She just stays in her room. It's... odd."
Dad jumped in quickly. "Tiffany, everyone enjoys their time differently.
It's okay."
Mom didn’t even come to my rescue. It felt like a wall appeared
between us. I pushed my food around my plate and lost my appetite. "Can I
go back to my room?"
Mom sighed and just nodded at me. I quickly put my plate in the sink,
not wanting to stick around. As I left, I heard Mom whisper to Dad, "Maybe
we should get her some help."
That scared me. Help? Like a doctor? Was something wrong with me? I
remembered their conversation from yesterday. What was a psychologist?
Were they people that took kids away from their mom and dad?
Back in my room, I surveyed the mess Tiffany made. I hated how she
played with my stuff without asking! I felt like crying. Picking up my
Barbies, I tried to make everything look right again. It felt right, making my
room mine again after she messed it up.
On the end table by the bed there was a picture of Tiffany and I. She
was my only friend, and she only played with me because Mom told her to.
She was smiling big and there was me behind her. She'd played with my
toys and left them all over, just like she always did. Looking at the picture, I
felt... left out. Like, where was my place in our family? In the background?
I could feel myself becoming extremely upset. I screamed and threw
my favorite teddy bear against the wall. I threw my books off the shelves.
My books and toys flew everywhere as I screamed again.
It was so hard to breathe, but I was so mad. So sad. Everything just felt
heavy, and I didn’t know why. Then, the door opened, and my parents were
there.
Mom looked super mad. "Look what she's done now, Mark!" she
almost shouted.
Dad looked, I dunno, sad? Worried?
"Mira," he whispered, kneeling in front of me, his hands on my
shoulders, "why did you do this? Did Tiffany make you mad?"
I laughed, but it wasn’t a joyous laugh. It was more like sarcastic or
something. "Tiffany? Why is it always about her?"
“Tiffany didn’t make this mess. You clean this up. Right now!"
Dad hugged me. “Talk to me, sweetie. What happened?"
Then Daddy’s little wireless phone rang. He sighed and pulled it out of
his pocket and rolled his eyes at it. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” He stood
and ducked out of the room.
Mom rolled her eyes at him as he left. “Is it that annoying client
again?” she called after him. “Lottie, Lotus, or some weird name like that?”
 Dad replied quickly. “Yeah, yeah; I just need to clear a few things with
her, and she’ll be out of my hair.” He rushed out of the door after saying
hello to the lady on the phone. “This is Mark,” he answered.
Mom turned to me. Her arms were crossed. “This better be cleaned up
by the time I get back from the supermarket, or so help me God, Mira,” she
warned. She turned and followed Dad.
I felt stuck. Mom was mad. Dad cared, but was always too busy. And
now my room was a big mess. Everything was just... too much.

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 THREE
Mira
2005
Putting dishes away wasn’t a difficult chore. There were plates of all sizes,
each with its designated spot, yet no one ever seemed to organize them
except me. I ran my fingers along each plate, ensuring there were no food
stains.
Mom sat at the table reading a book. I debated asking her about what
she was reading, but didn’t. It was as if we both lived in our separate
bubbles.
As I got lost in the dishes, a stupid memory slammed into me again.
The day Dad just... left a year ago. “Promise me you'll get it, Mira," he'd
mumbled, not even looking my way. Damn, why did that memory play on
repeat in my head? Was it because I was such a perfectionist about
everything? Did that drive him away? That guilt felt like a truck parked on
my chest, and I hated it.
I caught Mom looking up once, and for a hot second, thought about
spilling all my messed-up feelings about missing Dad. But she just hid
behind her book, and I was drowning in this emotional whirlpool. We've got
this super awkward silence about the whole 'Why did Dad take off?'
situation. Every time I tried to bring it up, the words got stuck in my throat.
That memory of Dad, with his suitcase, man, it played on repeat in my
mind. Did I mess things up? Was I too much for him? I used to think he was
the one who really got me.
But if he had, he wouldn't have left me alone with Mom. He wouldn’t
have left us.
I snuck another sideways look at Mom behind that paper shield. Does
she low key think it was my fault? That silent tension; like this enormous
elephant chilling in our living room. And seriously, it sucked. I could never
talk to her about anything. She always seemed distant, volatile, and cold.
After Dad left, it only got worse. I often wondered how she and Dad ever
stayed together in the first place. Dad always seemed... well, normal.
But once he left, I realized I never truly knew him.
 The front door slammed open.
Tiffany, looking like she walked straight out of a fashion magazine,
with her perfectly styled auburn hair, large silver hooped earrings, cropped
top, and miniskirt, strode into the kitchen like she won a movie deal. She
always seemed to light up a room, which was the opposite of me, with my
simple brown hair in a loose ponytail and my casual jeans and T-shirt.
Without even pausing for breath, she launched into a dramatic recap of
her day, clearly thrilled with her own achievements. "I totally aced the math
test, Mom!"
Mom's face lit up instantly. "That’s good. I’m proud of you."
I swear, if I rolled my eyes any harder, they'd fall out.
I couldn’t even count how many times Mom has said she's proud of me
on both hands. If I kept count, I could count on more than both hands in a
day the number of complaints Mom had for me. I could die and jump off a
cliff and she probably wouldn't care. She’s probably throwing a party to
celebrate the peace and quiet. Not that it would make much of a difference
because I hid out in my room most of the time just to avoid her.
She just didn't understand the academic pressure I was under. She never
would. She totally missed how out of place I felt compared to everyone
else. One time, a teacher complimented my organized notes. If I told her,
she'd probably mock me. She hated I liked to clean so much. Honestly, what
parent got annoyed at their kid for being neat? But God forbid I do
something most would think was normal. Why did everything come so
easily for Tiffany while every day I had to act invisible, so Mom didn't
scream at me for something, even if it wasn't my fault?
I remembered once I skipped class to rearrange books at the library,
and it was the afternoon I was let go from my weekend job because I cared
more about tidying up than attending to customers. Mom was livid. “Why
can’t you commit to anything like your sister?” she’d screamed at me.
Why did I always have to live in Tiffany's shadows? I longed for those
rare moments when she seemed, I don't know, more real? When we laughed
like actual sisters instead of her treating me like some annoying kid. The
funny part? I'm sixteen months, one week, and three days older than her. It
seemed like everyone loved her, while I was just...there, constantly
doubting myself. No matter how hard I tried, that sneaky feeling of being
the runner-up never really went away.
 Our kitchen was like our stage. Keeping the rooms in the house I used
spotless was my way to keep myself from feeling overwhelmed.
Then, as if on cue, Tiffany walked over and knocked my water cup
over. It felt like she'd taken away one of the last things I had control over.
As Tiffany giggled with a high-pitched and uneven laughter, her hands
trembled noticeably.
I felt very angry. "Mom, did you see what she just did?"
Without missing a beat, Mom looked up briefly. She shrugged. “It’s
just water, Mira. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. Just clean it up.”
I wanted to scream. What was I expecting? For her to come to my
rescue?
“She’s laughing about it, Mom,” I protested again. The more I thought
about it, the more it felt like they were teaming up against me. It was like
that Simple Plan song, "Me Against the World," which dropped last year. I
had it on repeat for days because the lyrics were a carbon copy of my own
life.
My mom rolled her eyes. “Just clean it up and deal with it.”
Her dismissal stung. I picked up the cup from the floor, and in a fit of
anger, hurled it at Tiffany. It struck her right on the forehead. She let out a
dramatic squeal.
I stormed out, pushing over an end table as I went.
“She’s nothing but a fucking bitch,” I heard Tiffany whine to my mom.
Oh, play the victim, Tiffany. To hell with her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mom shouted behind me, but she
didn’t even bother to get up from the table. I was too pissed to give a shit.
I was halfway to my room when I heard her chasing after me, but she
barely missed the door I slammed in her face. I needed a minute without her
breathing down my neck.
But, of course, the door swung open seconds later. She just had to have
the last word before she went and comforted her golden child. I couldn't
wait to move out of here and away from her.
“Leave me alone!” I screamed at her.
"What is your problem?"
"I don’t have a problem!” I threw back. “You always take her side,
every time!" I clenched my fists. "It's not fair. She never makes mistakes,
does she? Why don't you just go comfort her and leave me the hell alone?" I
couldn't decide between crying or punching something. I was so mad. "You
don't even care about how she makes me feel or what she does to me. I-I…"
"Overreacting again!” She waved at my precisely aligned books, my
color-coded closet. "Over every damn thing!"
Why does what I do with my bedroom have anything to do with her
treating me like a piece of shit?
Her gaze was cold and distant. I couldn’t remember the last time she
smiled at me. "So, you did a few chores. Whoop-de-doo! You chucked a
cup at your sis over a bit of spilled water. Why can't you just chill, hang
with your friends like everyone else, and not make such a scene?"
I burst into tears. "You think I chose to be like this? Like one day I
decided to be a weirdo? Like you never try to see things my way!"
All I ever wished for was for her to understand me. But it always
seemed like she pitied me or just straight-up couldn't stand me. And I
remembered that look—the one she'd give Dad when they fought over me.
She always had to push, never leaving things be. Dad had his limits, but I
couldn't resist her overpowering nature as he did. Instead, I became her
prime target. Her resentment for me grew, blaming me for the arguments
that led Dad to spend more nights away until he eventually left for good.
I just needed Mom to go away. "Did you ever think that if you'd been a
bit more understanding," I hurled at her bitterly, "a little less controlling...
maybe Dad would've stuck around?"
Even before she raised her hand, I saw the blow coming. "You
ungrateful bitch!" She slapped me hard, and her words hurt even more. I
touched my hot cheek, feeling anger build up in me.
The old Mira was changing. She always sought approval and felt out of
place. But now, she was quickly disappearing. It happened at that moment.
The silence shattered, and bitter words filled the air. And in that moment, a
new Mira was born.
I was so over all of them—Mom, Dad, Tiffany. They could keep their
label of 'ungrateful bitch' and pin it on the old Mira because she was gone
now. The world was about to meet the new Mira. I just needed to find her
first.

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 FOUR

Mira
2005

I watched Joseph Oliver on the school football field from the bleachers.
He moved with skill and grace. The sun made his skin shine and showed off
his muscles. His hair was always perfect, even during intense play. He
wiped sweat from his eyes. The old me would have been too nervous and
scared to talk to him, let alone hang out. But now, I wanted to be the real
me and find people who accept me for who I am.
One day, I spotted his notebook. His writing? It was so neat. Every
letter looked like he'd given it great thought. You wouldn’t expect it from a
guy like him. Maybe that's when I saw more in him than just his athletic
side. Consistency's always been a thing with me, and it made him incredibly
sexy.
A few weeks after a terrible fight with Mom, I wished things were
different. Not just escaping from her and her expectations but wanting
someone to get me. Sure, I’d seen Joseph in class. He probably didn’t even
know I existed. During a math presentation about Fibonacci sequences,
everything really changed. We had exchanged notes, but the math
presentation transformed everything. I think he caught me geeking out
because I saw him glance my way. Who knew? Math got his attention. Kind
of ironic if anyone had asked me. The math teacher was a total dick, so it
had to be me. It made me feel pretty good.
Our real convo started over my earrings. After the drama with Mom, I
began wearing clothes that expressed my personality. For example, I love
wearing my galaxy skirt and handmade geometric earrings. Nothing big,
but my own form of rebellion. In geometry class, Joseph asked about them.
He somehow related them to a football play. Kind of nerdy, but cute. We
just clicked from there.
You’d think he was all about football, but nope. He had this geeky side,
and it was exceptional. We'd swap stories about routines and patterns. It
wasn’t anything romantic— just two people finding shared ground.
 Today, it's not only about watching Joseph. Instead, it's about
understanding the rhythm and order he brought to the chaos. Maybe that's
what I’d been yearning for—a semblance of order in my chaotic life. Being
invited to his house? That was the surprise. The “new Mira” had pushed me
to accept, despite the nagging doubts echoing Mother’s voice.
The whistle blew, bringing me back. He jogged over, smiling. A ton of
questions ran through my head. What could he possibly see in me? Was I
his quirky new friend? Every step he took closer felt like a ton of bricks on
my chest. I was terrified.
Today wasn't another practice. I was hanging out at his house
afterward. I hoped he would ask me out. We could chill together more
often. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about how
Mother saw me as less than normal. She wanted me to be more like Tiffany.
Maybe if Joseph dated me, she wouldn't see me as messed up. I wanted to
change and become a different person. The first step was to spend time with
a boy. Not just any boy, but a high school football player who wasn't dumb.
Mom would have to approve. But at the same time, did I really need her
approval?
Mom secretly scheduled an appointment for me with a shrink. I
remember hearing Dad say, "She's not broken. She's just different." I
wondered if Joseph would agree with Mom or Dad. Only time would tell.
Joseph was getting closer. I hoped he could see the real me—Mira, and not
just a project to fix. I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't hear his
voice.
"Hey, Mira? You there?” He laughed and waved a hand in front of my
face. “You still up for hanging at mine? We can jam to a bit of Green Day,
or maybe Gwen?" He shot me a cheeky wink, reminding me of our silly
lyric battles. "No pressure, though. If you're not feeling it, cool. But the
Honda's ready if you are.”
He chuckled and ran a hand down my arm. "Just give me a minute to
hit the showers. Wanna walk with me?" I nodded and stood; he reached for
my hand. His touch was different…like warmth on a chilly day. The world
seemed to fade, leaving the sound of our shoes on gravel.
"Beautiful day, huh?" The words came out before I could stop them.
Seriously? Out of all things, Mira?
He just chuckled as we reached the locker entrance. I hung out for
fifteen minutes until he emerged—his wet, messy hair hanging over his
eyes, wearing a fresh Green Day shirt and straight jeans over grass-covered
sneakers.
When we got to his car, I laughed. “This is the Honda?” It was an old
Honda Civic that had seen better days, mostly white with a blue bumper,
likely with windows that rolled up manually. Man, it was cringy. "Your
car's...interesting."
Joseph blushed a little. "Yeah, she's...different." He held the door open
for me. His car was a disaster, smelling of old fries and what I hoped were
old gym socks. A mess of burrito wrappers littered the passenger seat. I
didn't even know why, but I started tidying up, finding an empty plastic
takeout bag and filling it with wrappers and food remnants.
He slid into the front seat and his eyes widened, but they were amused.
"Cleaning bug bite you or something?" he teased.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, ignoring his question and jogging to a
nearby trash can to dispose of the clutter.
When I got back, he had popped in a CD, and the familiar tunes of
Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" was playing. We both tried
singing along as we drove to his house, sounding like two cats fighting in a
bag.
We went silent for a bit before Joseph let out a sigh.
I felt like the silence needed to be broken. “So, what got you into
football?” I asked, apprehensive about whether I was saying the right thing.
"Oh, that.” He sounded sad for a moment. “Well, after Dad died and all
the moving ‘cause of Mom’s boyfriends, I felt like the odd one out.
Football’s like...my one constant, ya know? It’s where I belong. The team is
good, and the guys are great. Coach Weller really pushed us hard to
succeed, ya know?"
I got what he was saying. Like completely got it. "I feel you.
Everyone's got their thing. I guess mine is making a mess into less of a
mess."
I wanted to be my genuine self so freaking bad, but I didn't want to
appear vulnerable. I didn't want the first boy who liked me to see me as a
freak before getting to know every side of me. I knew there were other parts
to me. I wasn't just the orderly, clean freak. Sometimes it took longer for
those who tried to get to know the other side of me.
Joseph looked over, smiling a bit. "That's kinda cool, Mira. Not gonna
lie. I wish I was better at being tidy, but between homework and football…”
he trailed off with a smile. His hand gently patted my leg. He had that
stupid lopsided big grin on his face that was growing on me. "Ready to
roll?"
I grinned back, nodding. “Absolutely.”
He actually likes me, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
As he pulled out, the radio switched to some pop song and he laughed.
"So, what’s your jam, Mira?”
“I kinda like everything. No biggie.”
His face lit up. “Yo, I love some good punk, but I’m all about hip hop.
Especially Tupac. One of his tracks...man, it's like about my dad. RIP, ya
know?”
“Music’s deeper than most people get,” I replied.
He nodded, drumming his fingers on the wheel as we sat at the light
exiting the school parking lot. “Totally. They hear a beat, but not the heart.
Kinda like how they see us."
I took a deep breath. "Yeah. They see, but they don’t really see."
We drove on, two misfit souls in perfect sync. When his house came
into view, I felt uneasy. It crept up my spine like an ant. The house had
peeling paint and an untamed lawn. If his Dad hadn’t left, maybe the house
would be okay, but it wasn’t. Yet, I found something charming about
Joseph’s house. It was real, raw, and modest, much like the man beside me
and, in some ways, much like me if anyone took the time to know me.
"It's not much. But it's all Mom could afford after Dad died. I feel bad
for how hard Mom works."
His words touched something deep inside me. I reached out and
hugged him. At first, he tensed; then he relaxed. I could tell he really
needed that hug too. "I'm sorry for your loss, Joseph."
As we let go, he smiled. "Thanks, Mira, that means a lot.” He hugged
me again. I liked how he hugged.
It felt good to do something right. It made me feel seen, important. His
fingers brushed against mine. "Want to go in?"
The house was old and scary as we walked to the door. His hand in
mine made me feel a less nervous. I had just gotten here, but I feel like we
had clicked.

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 FIVE
Mira
2005

On the way to his bedroom, I felt uneasy. The living room area didn’t look
too bad, but the climb to his bedroom left me with goosebumps. When I'd
seen the mess in his car earlier, I half-expected a similar mess. But it was
the total opposite: his room was spotless. Thank God. But it was a habit. I
didn’t really know how to act around him or anyone. So, I looked around
for something out of place —s omething to calm my nerves.
Joseph smirked. "Did a bit of cleanup for you. Heard you've got a thing
for neatness."
I smiled. "Oh? What, have you been stalking me?"
He laughed, pointing to a mini-fridge next to his dresser. "Want a
soda?" He flipped open the door. The color-coded alignment of every can
inside almost begged for my approval. "Sure, I’ll take a Lemon Lime."
As he handed me the green and yellow soda, our fingers brushed,
sending a weird tingle through me. Seriously? Over a touch? What was
wrong with me? I glanced around for a comfy spot on his bed. Weirdly, his
duvet was perfect. There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. In any other room, there
would be some imperfection. I decided what the hell and hopped on the
bed.
Watching me, he took a seat in an armchair chair across from the bed
and leaned over. "So, Mira, spill the beans. What are you into?"
Panicking slightly, I tried to steer away from my obsession with
cleanliness. "I love reading," I began, "and, um, painting. It's like
controlling the madness, you know? Just me, some colors, and a blank
canvas. I do have a system to control the mess." I could have kicked myself
for adding that last bit, but it was the truth. Still, he had to know sooner or
later.
He leaned farther forward. "Neat. Do you paint abstracts, or do you
focus on real-life subjects?"
 I hesitated, feeling awkward. "Mostly abstract, but I sometimes try to
capture my feelings. When things feel too chaotic or... messy."
He inched closer, taking a swig of his soda. "Sounds therapeutic. So,
any other obsessions besides painting and, well, reading?"
I tried to stay quiet, then said, "I like the library because it's quiet and
organized." After a moment, I added, "Also, I've always wanted to visit
Japan. Their culture is incredibly precise." He laughed warmly. "I love it.
So, Miss Mira, any hidden talents?"
Laughing, I confessed, "I tried ballet. Epic fail."
Joseph reached out and squeezed my hand. "Hey, we can't be good at
everything. But you, you've got this unique charm…and quite a knack for
making things perfect."
Flushing, I shot back, "What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?"
With faux dramatic flair, he replied, "Reality TV. I’m hooked!"
Despite myself, I giggled. "Really? You?"
"Hey, are you judging?" Joseph burst into laughter. "I’m super into
Survivor and Lost , but really, we all have our quirks, don’t we?"
I laughed. “I like Lost too, but some of the characters drive me insane.”
We chatted about our favorite deaths in the show and where we thought
the plot was going. Before I knew it, two hours had passed.
He looked up at the clock on his wall. Of course, it was a Dallas
Cowboys clock. So old school. "Time really does fly with you, Mira."
Following his gaze, I blinked. Seriously? Was it that late? If Mom
found out I'd lost track of time, she'd flip. She always mocked me, starting a
small fight, and always questioning why I caused trouble. But this was
worth the risk, because breaking the rules with Joseph felt right.
Seeing the doubt in my eyes, Joseph reached out, his fingers gently
cupping my chin. God, the tension was real! My heart raced so hard that I
was sure he could hear it. As he got closer, his breath smelled like mint. Our
lips met. Oh, my God. For a split moment, nothing else mattered but Joseph
and me. It was the most intimate moment I'd ever shared with a guy. My
face was burning up.
He swallowed as we parted, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "You know," he
said in a low voice, "the way you blush is really cute."
I grinned. Such a smooth talker.
"You," I teased, "have that 'whiskey with some experience' vibe." It
was a silly joke I'd heard at school.
 A wordless exchange passed between us. “This is just the beginning."
When he kissed me again, softer and surer, I was so sure this would turn
into something more than just a teenage fling. We got each other. A bonus
was to show up people like Tiffany. My annoying, bratty little sister never
believed someone like Joseph could notice me. But she was wrong with a
two-finger salute.
Joseph sighed. "As much as I’d like to continue this, my mom's going
to be home soon. I should probably get you home."
Home loomed in my mind, a place filled with Mother's icy detachment
and Tiffany's endless taunts. Still, I forced a smile, wanting to end the night
on a high note. I hopped off the bed. "I enjoyed tonight."
He smiled as he took my hand. "Let's get you home, then."
In the car, his hand rested lightly on my thigh, but he didn’t start the
engine. He stole a side glance at me, that boyish grin always on display.
"I really like you, Mira. I want to take you on a real date. What do you
say?”
OMG! Did he really just say that? My heart threatened to race out, dart
across two streets, and then dive back in before I could even process his
words.
A date? With me?
“I-I’d like that, I think,” I blurted out softly, before I had time to think.
"I work part-time in construction at my uncle's rental properties on the
weekends,” he continued hurriedly. “Maybe we can figure something out
around my schedule? How about dinner on Friday night?”
I sucked in a breath. I needed to find the cleanest restaurant in this city
as soon as possible, because I found restaurants way too chaotic for my
taste.
I gave him my house number, and he started the car. "I-I don't have a
cellphone," I admitted, “so maybe after school would be best?”
"Oh, that’s cool. We can arrange something at school, or I'll just call
you," he suggested, just as a car pulled up to the driveway next to us. He
waved at a woman stepping out. I couldn’t see her face. "That's my mom,"
he explained. "I'll introduce you soon. But I really should take you home
before we both get in trouble for being out late."
My heart raced. Just thinking about meeting his mother had me
imagining the possible worst-case scenarios. What if she didn't approve of
me? Or thought I wasn't right for him? As he drove me home, every city
light and horn honk set my nerves on edge. I dreaded facing Mom, Tiffany,
and the almost certain mess of our house.
When he parked in front of my house, I hesitated. A recent argument
with Tiffany was still fresh in my mind. Joseph must have noticed how I felt
because he asked, "Do you want me to walk you to the door?"
A part of me wanted to decline. I would be walking into both Mom's
and Tiffany’s mess. If they saw Joseph, they'd only have something
negative to say. They both didn’t like me. But on the other hand, I could
show them that I was able to make friends—and with a boy at that! I could
just imagine the shock on Tiffany’s face. Wait until she found out that he’d
kissed me. That would show her.
"Yes, please."
Through the curtains, I saw Tiffany coming closer to the window, her
attention piqued. My heartbeat quickened. I felt like I was on display, but I
swallowed hard, trying not to show her I cared.
Joseph seemed to pick up on my internal battle. "Is everything alright,
Mira?”
Before I could reply, aware of Tiffany's prying eyes and our constant
battle of one-upmanship, I turned to Joseph. "Just one thing..." I started and
kissed him.
"I can't wait to see you tomorrow, Joseph,” I murmured softly.
He ran his fingers through my hair, gently pulling me back in, his lips
hovering dangerously close to mine. "The feeling is mutual. Tomorrow can't
come soon enough. Good night, Mira.”
When I entered the house, Tiffany was already there, waiting for me in
the dimly-lit hallway, with that annoying smirk on her face. "How did you
get a football player to even notice you, Mira? You probably paid him or
something."
"Maybe he just likes being around people who aren't fake," I shot back,
although my heart was pounding. I kept replaying that moment on the
doorstep with Joseph over and over in my head. I snarled, "What's your
deal, Tiffany? Jealous?"
She rolled her eyes. "He's not even all that on the field. But I guess for
you, he’s like the next big thing, or whatever."
I brushed past her, making my way to our disaster of a kitchen. Ugh,
seriously? Dirty dishes piled everywhere. It was like no one knew how to
clean up after themselves here. I felt an itch to just wash everything and get
rid of the mess.
Mom was sitting at the table, giving me that look. "Where have you
been, Mira?"
I tried to act cool, even though her stare always made me uneasy. "Out.
Just out."
"Out," she sneered. "And what, may I ask, does 'out' mean?"
Tiffany stepped forward, smirking. "She spent the evening with a boy,
Mom. Quite the charmer." I held back my words, letting Tiffany fan the
flames. She always knew how to rile up Mom against me. Oh well! It was a
daily occurrence, and I honestly didn't care anymore. I guess it was another
step into the new Mira I continued to morph into.
Mom frowned and hurled questions at me, ones I should have known
were coming. I couldn’t recall her asking any of them about Tiffany and the
boys she had brought home. "Who is this boy? What's his name? What's his
family background? What does he do?"
I bit down on my lower lip. "He's a high school student on the football
team.” I wracked my brain for what he did for work. “He works in
construction on the weekends.” I paused. “Wait a second, we were just
hanging out. Why does it even matter to you? You’ll find something you
don’t like about him and how I hang out. You've already seen me as broken,
haven't you?"
Her voice was frosty. "You know, normal girls your age discuss their
lives with their mothers. You hide out and keep things to yourself. One
moment you're obsessively cleaning, and the next you're lashing out. Why
can't you be more like Tiffany? She's grounded and respectable. She doesn’t
hide things from me.”
I removed my jacket and hung it behind the door. I couldn't stand
Mom's questions and the mess any longer. Rolling up my sleeves, I started
at the sink, setting the water as hot as it would go. I plunged my hands into
the soapy water. The sensation grounded me, the rhythmic clink of the
dishes against the metal sink acting as a counterpoint to Tiffany's taunts.
Mom threw her hands up and stood. "Just when we think you're starting
to act normally, you hide behind your cleaning habits."
Normal people don’t like to live with roaches and mice either. I wanted
to throw back, but I bit my lip instead and concentrated on cleaning,
counting down the days until my eighteenth birthday when I could finally
leave this house.

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 SIX
Mira
2006

I walked forty minutes to Joseph's house instead of taking the bus. I hated
city transit. It smelled, it was dirty, and people were squeezed in like
sardines. The walk was worth it to spend time with him. Lately, Joseph and
I had started ditching school. What began as skipping a class soon turned
into missing an entire day. At first, I called the school, my voice disguised
as Mom’s.
It wasn't hard. I skipped class and felt guilty briefly, but school was
awful, and my grades were already failing. So, I stopped caring and decided
to just deal with Mom. I've gotten better at dealing with her nonsense.
Last night, after Mom fell asleep, I decided to visit Joseph. He was
already drunk by the time I got there. He had been my boyfriend for about
four months now. His math teacher was on his case after football season
had ended, which hadn't been an issue during the first semester.
He opened the door, his speech slurred. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
he asked.
I smirked. "You seem ready for school. Should I leave?" Our smiles
met. "Besides, I prefer skipping that hellhole to be with you."
He pulled me into a big hug. "You have no idea how great it is that you
are here. I have one killer headache."
I remembered a secret hangover remedy that Dad used to make for
Mom after one too many glasses of wine at her parents' meetings to discuss
me or to escape home with a drink. "I have just the cure for that."
Joseph whispered sweetly in my ear as he slid his arms around me from
behind. "I already have my remedy right here. Honestly, Mira, I'm open to
anything you suggest. Except more alcohol, of course."
"It's a ginger remedy with some honey," I said.
Joseph nodded. "I think I have both in the cupboard. Mom puts honey
in her morning coffee and often makes ginger chicken." That sounded good.
My mom hardly ever cooked. She'd use the slow cooker or just heat up TV
dinners.
 I searched the cupboards and found what I needed. I microwaved a cup
of water with a slice of ginger, stirred in some honey, and handed him the
drink.
"While you sip on your 'drunkachover,'" I said, laughing at my own
joke. "I'll get started on cleaning up."
He took a sip, grimacing. "Thanks...but, ugh, this tastes awful."
I shrugged. "It's either that or the headache."
Soon, I was tidying up his kitchen. I'm pretty good at cleaning, and he
looked like he could use the help. That's just what girlfriends do, right? He
seemed grateful.
Instead of stressing about the crappy grades I earned, cleaning felt
better. Ugh. Like the next report's gonna be any different. Graduation?
Yeah, right?
Every time I moved the mop, I felt...I don't know, more in control?
Then, a tiny dust particle caught my attention as it settled on the pristine
counter I'd just cleaned for Joseph.
Joseph laughed. "Ever since you've been around, the house has been
way cleaner. Even Mom noticed. She's been off my back about ditching
school," he said. "It's all 'cause of you."
I blinked at him. Someone saw the effort I had put in. It was…nice. I
stopped for a moment, gripping the mop tighter. I couldn't help it. Every
time something reminded me that I was skipping school, it led back to
something someone else said. Something that pointed out my flaws. I
remembered the teacher suggesting a tutor last year. That evening, my
parents had a heated argument about wasted money and my supposed lack
of effort.
I wasn't lazy. It was because I found it really hard. I couldn't
concentrate. I'd get frustrated and just stop trying. What was the point?
Shortly after, Dad left and the house had never been the same.
I felt a strong urge to meet Joseph’s mother. "So, when do I get to meet
her?" I asked.
Joseph's face tightened. “She’s busy, but we'll arrange something
soon.”
My heart sank. I craved the love and warmth of a mother. Even if it
came from Joseph's mom, because it was more than what my mom could
offer me.
 "She's always 'busy'," I sighed, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair
around my finger. I guess I had to accept that fact.
Joseph sipped his drink. "Speaking of mothers being 'occupied', does
yours ever give you a break?”
I felt suddenly bitter. It wasn’t fair that Mom sucked so much, but
Joseph had this apparently awesome mom. I looked at Joseph, just wanting
to let out all my frustrations. Not caring if he just thought I was
complaining.
“Imagine waking up to purposely spilled coffee. Every. Single. Day.
Just because she knows it’ll set me off." Taking a deep breath, I continued,
"She's always going on about how I never do anything right. After Dad left,
she hadn't even tried dating anyone. I think she's too caught up in her own
bitterness. Instead of moving on, she just stays mad all the time. School's no
better. It's not just about being distracted, or busy. I struggle, Joseph. I just
find everything hard because I can't concentrate. I don't have anyone who
understands that it's sometimes hard to process certain things. So, I just
clean and organize. I spend time alone to think and then think some more
because it's easier."
He frowned, drawing patterns on the table with his finger. "Last year,
didn't you say that one of your teachers suggested a tutor?" Joseph looked at
me. "I've never met your mom, but from what you've said, she seems kind
of harsh. Do you think my mom should talk to her?"
I pressed my hands against the cold countertop. "I don't want to bother
anyone." I noticed a dish out of place, so I moved it.
He got up and hugged me. "You always fix things."
"Stuff should be neat," I mumbled, feeling nervous. "It feels...right." I
wasn’t sure if I even believed that. I wondered if I used cleaning and being
orderly as an excuse to mask how shitty my entire childhood had been. Was
I just taking the easier route? Maybe that was what Mom meant when she
accused me of not caring.
Joseph smiled and his face brightened, like a lightbulb appearing over
his head. "Hey, when school's technically out, let's do something fun!" I
loved how he had emphasized "once school ends," making it sound like we
were actually there. I needed a little laugh, especially when thoughts of
Mom weighed heavily on me.
"Like what?" I pried.
 "Let's go out to a bar! My friend can hook you up with a fake ID, just
like he did for me."
I swallowed hard. "A bar? I need to prepare for that kind of thing!
What would I even wear?" The idea of going to a bar felt so mature, but like
taking mass transit, it terrified me. Weren't they crowded, noisy places like
I’d seen on How I Met Your Mother? I didn’t know if I could handle that.
"I've…uh, never stepped foot in one.”
He chuckled. "I remember when I talked about it before. You made a
list." That list was still in my notebook. "You and your friends always seem
to have fun. I see the photos on Facebook. Everything's so...random,
though. It freaks me out a little."
His fingers brushed my cheek. "It's just about chilling and having a
good time. Tonight, it's just about us."
I was torn. "Can I handle that?"
Joseph pulled me into a hug. "Trust me, okay? You might like it."
I hesitated, biting my lip. Everything about Joseph screamed chaos, and
with everything going on at home, maybe a little chaos was what I needed.
"Mom's been off my back lately. Since I met you, everything
seems...neater. She's so caught up in her happiness that she hasn't kept track
of my late nights."
His thumb caressed my cheek, snapping me back to the present. Our
lips met, and the world disappeared. He broke away, and I caught my
breath. "Okay. Let's go." Then, I panicked. “I just realized that I have
nothing to wear.”
He sized me up. “That’s an issue.”
I frowned. “I can’t just waltz into a bar like this.”
“Anyone home right now?”
“Mom's working, and Tiffany,” I couldn’t help but smirk, “is probably
enduring a dull lecture, right where we should be.”
A soft chuckle escaped him. “School’s overrated.” Before I could
argue, his lips found mine again. If his goal was to shut me up, it worked.
Pulling away, I asked, “So, how do we get to my place?”
Grinning, he plucked his car keys from a bowl on the table. "Did you
forget that I have a car? Let’s roll.”
My eyes widened. “Your kind of drunk. I bet you’re not even legal to
drive!”
 He pulled out a small bottle of eye drops and mints from his pocket
with a silly grin. “Got everything covered. I know some secret routes. We
won’t get caught.”
The alcohol on Joseph's breath and the way he wobbled just a bit as he
grabbed the car keys freaked me out. Why was I even considering letting it
slide? Seeing him all set to drive and clearly tipsy made my heart race. This
was dangerous chaos in my world of to-do lists.
Then there was that undeniable pull. Those secret moments between us
that made me question everything. Was life always about following the
rules? With Joseph always acting without thinking, I felt so confused. Could
someone like me, who thrived on routine, really be with someone so
unpredictable?
Joseph leaned in. “I’ve got to pick up that fake ID for you. It's chill, we
got this.”
I gave in. “Okay but promise me you won't do anything stupid while
driving.”
Inside his car, my heart was in my throat. He revved the engine way
louder than he needed to and sped out.
"Dude, chill out, okay? Drive normally? And stop means stop..."
He shot me a cheeky grin. "Relax, Mira."
I took a deep breath. "Joseph, I love you, okay? I just want us to be
safe. I can't even think about anything happening to us or getting into
trouble."
Something in my voice must've hit him. He squeezed my hand. "Love
you too," he muttered, suddenly looking more serious. "We're good, trust
me."
By the time he parked at my place, my heart was almost back to
normal. But that night…it changed everything for us.
"I'll wait here!" he said, as he usual.
I figured there was no harm in inviting him inside. "Come on in. No
one's home, anyway. You can have the grand tour."
As we stepped into the house, we entered the living room. There were
dirty plates, clothes, and things scattered everywhere.
He paused, taking in the mess. "You weren't kidding when you said it
was chaotic."
I sighed. "This is what I deal with every day. I spend hours tidying up,
and my sister and Mom purposely leave dishes everywhere. If it wasn't for
me, I’m sure we'd have roaches, or worse, mice."
He cringed. "They should be grateful you care."
"Yeah, well," I trailed off and led him to my bedroom. The last thing I
wanted was to bitch about them more than I already had.
Joseph let out a mock gasp when he saw my bedroom. “Your room, on
the other hand, is spotless.”
Flattered, I leaned in and kissed him. "Thanks. I try to keep at least one
space organized. Anyway, they don't need to come in here." I opened my
closet, revealing clothes sorted meticulously by color and style. As I
searched, I couldn't find the right outfit. I sighed. "Tiffany has style, not
me."
Joseph touched my cheek lightly. "Why not borrow something from her
for tonight?"
I hesitated. It felt weird thinking about going through Tiffany's stuff
without asking. That was totally something she'd do, not me. But having
Joseph around made me feel slightly better about it.
"With the way she leaves her room, she probably won't even notice.
You can put it back before she finds out," he whispered, tucking a strand of
hair behind my ear.
I hung up the items I had taken out. I sighed. I didn't have anything
appropriate for a bar. "Alright. Let's see what she's got."
Stepping into Tiffany's room was like entering another world. I felt
dizzy. There were empty soda cans, piles of clothes, shoes, and books
strewn everywhere. I searched for an outfit as quickly as possible so I could
get the hell out of there.
From beneath a stack of books, Joseph pulled out a sleek black dress.
"What about this one? Mira, if you wear this tonight, it'll be a night to
remember."
I raised an eyebrow at the dress. "Mom would lock me in my room
forever if she saw me in that." That and it wasn't me; I didn't wear skimpy
dresses. I liked to be covered up, invisible, even though deep down I
wanted to be understood.
He grinned. "We're sneaking into a bar, right? Why not look the part?
Besides, what is she going to do? Really, after everything, why even care
about her opinion?"
I playfully rolled my eyes. "Fair point." He was right. Mom could kiss
my ass for all I cared. Mom's daily torment was already unbearable, so she
couldn't possibly do much more to me.
Tiffany's dresser was a legit mess. There was hair stuck on what
seemed like old gum, mixed in with a heap of makeup, most of which I'd
never be caught dead wearing. Disgusting. I pushed aside some caked-on
makeup brushes. I borrowed some eyeshadow. One with nothing gross on
the outside of it. Of course, given that I only had mascara in my room.
"I'm totally gonna try this," I declared, grabbing the sparkly blue
eyeshadow and pale pink lip gloss. I fumbled as I applied the eyeshadow
and confessed, "I have no idea what I'm doing."
Joseph laughed. "You're not doing too badly."
I would have slapped him if I didn't agree that the makeup application
wasn't my forte.
After leaving my sister's bedroom, I sighed with relief. “Let's leave
before I have a heart attack."
Once in the car, Joseph drove to an unfamiliar part of town. The houses
appeared old and worn. We finally stopped outside a modest house, and I
wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. The whole plan was feeling real and
risky. He left me in the car for a moment, engaging in a brief, hushed
exchange with someone at the door. Moments later, he ushered me over.
The dimly-lit room revealed an older man with tattoos running up his arms,
waiting for us.
"Heard you need an ID," the man said, eyeing me with clear interest.
A nervous chill ran down my spine. Money changed hands. I posed for
a photo in a room that felt uneasy. It felt so wrong. After what felt like
hours, the man handed me the ID. The card read: Maryanne Stanley, age
twenty-one. Staring at the card, I felt a knot form in my stomach. This was
all becoming too real, too fast.
I looked at Joseph, wondering how he knew people like this. Could I
really trust him?
"In that dress, with a touch of makeup, you'll pass for twenty-one,”
Joseph admitted. “If anything goes wrong, I've got it covered. Trust me."
A part of me was screaming to run, but where would that leave me?
Back to being a loser with no friends nor a boyfriend who actually enjoyed
my company. Absolutely not.
His words, though, did little to calm my racing heart.
Back at his place, Joseph guided me to the bathroom. "Want to take a
shower? With me?"
 Steam clouded the room as the water started running. I saw his
reflection in the fogged-up mirror, silently inviting me. I nodded and
undressed. As we stepped under the warm cascade, droplets formed rivulets
on Joseph's sculpted body. I admired the way they traced paths on his toned
chest. Every so often, our eyes locked and we smiled.
"You're... stunning," he breathed, his husky voice making my stomach
leap in a good way.
It wasn't just the words. It was how his eyes lit up and that tiny hitch in
his voice. How could I be so lucky? Once we got out, I had to get ready.
After drying off, I began applying makeup. I carefully applied mascara,
steadying my shaking hand. Next, the eyeliner had to be just right, so I took
extra care with it. I wasn't any good, but I still tried. I chose blue
eyeshadow, blending until it looked perfect. It seriously would have taken
Tiffany a minute tops to look this good. The final touch was pink lip gloss,
which was just the right shade. I didn't want to look like a tramp.
I stepped back to admire how the mirror reflected a different side of
me: the new Mira. Older-looking, surer of myself, and sort of cute. I never
really saw myself as anything more than below average. Maybe average. I
decided to go by my real name, Mira, for the night, disguised as a nickname
for my fake ID identity. After all, I was only going to be with Joseph.
Joseph looked at me and smiled. "Wow, Mira, you look amazing. Guess
I'm the lucky one tonight."
I giggled. Was he being serious? Lucky? Um, hello! Has he checked
himself out lately? His sleek button-up shirt and black pants suited him
perfectly. "Thanks, but like, have you seen yourself?"
Honestly, could he be any hotter?

OceanofPDF.com
 SEVEN
Mira
2006
Joseph and I were intensely into each other. The way he looked at me was
intense. My brain was screaming, "OMG, calm down!" Yet, underneath all
the warm feelings, I was low key freaking out about going to a bar. Being
with him just amplified everything. My brain couldn't decide what to think.
But before he could answer, a busted-up car rumbled down the street.
Its bright headlights illuminated the kitchen before fading away. Pulling
away from Joseph, we headed outside.
The car looked as if it hadn't been washed in ages. Then there was
Oscar, Joseph's friend. He was somewhat older, with thinning salt-and-
pepper hair and a scruffy beard that hinted at weeks without a shave. Joseph
mentioned that Oscar had recently separated from his wife. Oscar seemed
extremely jittery, his eyes darting around restlessly, and he reeked of stale
cigarettes. The encounter raised several red flags for me.
I was having serious second thoughts. I didn't want to get into this
dirty, disgusting vehicle with someone who was old enough to be my father.
And that old leather jacket of his? It looked like it had a thousand stories to
tell. Oscar and Joseph exchanged a weird, intense look, which felt like some
secret handshake minus the handshake. I felt super out of the loop and
extremely uncomfortable. I kept telling myself it would only be a quick
ride.
From the backseat, a fierce-looking redhead sat up front. How had I not
seen her before? She smirked at me, making me feel judged. "That's Clara,"
Joseph said casually. "She's legit." With Joseph, I felt less like a loner, but
these were still his people.
We pulled up to the bar, which was nothing like the chill sit-down place
Joseph had promised. It resembled more of a nightclub. The music was
pumping, and there was even a big, intimidating bouncer out front,
managing a line of people. I had never seen a bar with security like this.
Half of me wanted to bail right there. I suspected Joseph had lied, knowing
I would otherwise decline. Why did I always play it so safe?
 As we approached, the bouncer stopped us. "Hey, Joseph," he greeted
warmly.
"Yo, Tom. How's it inside?"
Wait, they were on a first-name basis?
They exchanged a hip handshake, and Tom opened the doors for us,
letting us skip the line.
This was getting stranger by the minute. How often did Joseph come
here? And he wasn't even of age. I had thought this was a rare occurrence
for him. But apparently not. I felt kind of stupid.
I wondered who these people were and what I had gotten myself into.
As the heavy door swung open, it immediately threw me into a new
world — neon lights, blasting tunes, and everyone just... lost in the dance.
The atmosphere felt electric, dizzying, and it was hard to grasp my
surroundings. Strobe lights danced around. It was very overwhelming.
Everywhere I looked, there was something going on. There were
groups of friends shouting to be heard over the music, bartenders doing
some insane bottle-flipping moves, and waitresses wearing outfits that
made me think, "Could I pull that off?" cutting through the crowd like pros.
Joseph, all of a sudden, was like a totally different person. He held onto
me tightly, steering us to the bar. The man beside me seemed miles away
from the Joseph I thought I knew — the somewhat reserved, sensitive
football player who had made me feel so understood in our quiet moments
together. Here, he transformed into someone else entirely. I was discovering
another side of him. He was a seasoned party-goer, breezing through the
crowd with ease. It was both exciting and scary. I wasn’t sure what to think.
"What do you want to drink?" he shouted, trying to be heard over the
latest hit track.
"Something fruity?" I yelled back. I didn't know what I wanted to
drink. I never drank. Fruity seemed basic enough. Who knows, I might
grow more adventurous as the night goes on. Maybe.
Joseph disappeared for just a couple of minutes and returned with our
drinks. "Got you a Cosmopolitan. It's like vodka mixed with cranberry and
some other stuff. Bet you'll dig the fruity taste." He handed me the tall glass
with an impossibly thin coffee straw.
The first bite of vodka was sharp, quickly drowned by the sweetness of
cranberry and something citrusy. "Wow!"
Joseph took a sip of his drink. "Yeah, you'll get used to it."
 "What did you get?"
"Double whiskey and coke. Nothing fancy."
I looked down at my drink. "Is mine a double too?"
He shrugged. "Nah, just regular. But the next one can be a double."
I tried my drink again. Not bad, actually.
"I don't have money for a ton of drinks," I admitted.
He chuckled quietly. "Seriously? You forgot our 'unofficial' four-month
anniversary? I'm offended."
I smirked. "Four-month anniversary? That's a thing now?" But despite
the joke, something was bothering me.
"Totally a thing."
Soon, Joseph was lining up shots. "Trust me, you'll chill out after a few
more."
And he wasn't wrong. A few shots later, I felt way more relaxed. I
understoodd now why my classmates liked to party. The music, lights, and
just being close to Joseph. But still, I wondered where Joseph was getting
all this money. His family was stretched thin. Tonight, didn’t add up.
He pulled me closer. "I love you," he whispered in my ear.
I didn’t know what to feel, but I couldn’t let my doubt show. Unless I
wanted to mess up whatever we had. I tried to shake it off, to focus on the
music, on Joseph's touch, and the warmth of his words made that feeling
stay. How was he affording all these drinks? It seemed like he came here
often. I knew weekend construction gigs didn't pay that well, especially
since his family struggled financially.
Oh well. I was enjoying my evening dancing, hugging, and drinking
with Joseph. It was an escape from the hells of home.
“I’ll be right back. I'm going to request a song from the DJ.”
“Okay!”
But then, I smelt a heavy, stale scent of cigars. When I looked up, a
much older man was eyeing me. Seriously, like almost dad-age. Super
creepy!
"You new here?" the creepy old guy asked.
Before I could muster a reply, Joseph intervened. "Everything okay
here?"
The older guy sized Joseph up. "Just chatting with the lady here. You
got a problem or something?"
 I found my voice. "Yeah, I got a problem. I'm with him. Just enjoying
our night."
Joseph's hold on my hand tightened. "And we'd like to keep it that way.
Alone."
The older man's eyes gave me a creepy feeling. He seemed to get a
kick out of this weird power play. A bouncer appeared out of nowhere.
"Problem?" His voice brooked no argument.
"Just leaving," the older guy muttered, but as he moved away, he shot
me this wink. I shivered. I felt all slimy and gross.
Joseph hugged me tight, whispering, "You good?"
I nodded, but my heart wouldn't chill out. "Yeah. Thanks for being
there."
He kissed me. "Always."
That guy, whoever he was, put a damper on the night.
As he led me away from that mess, I was seriously glad Joseph was
there. "Let's chill somewhere quieter," he suggested, guiding me back to our
corner.
Then he ordered us more drinks.
When our drinks came, they were, like, super fancy. Joseph clinked his
glass against mine. "To us."
As we drank some more, the warm feeling spread everywhere. Joseph
raised his glass again. "To four awesome months."
The sentiment caught me a bit off-guard, making me blush. Was it the
drink, or the weight of his words? Or maybe both. I was drunk.
Then we kissed. It was getting heavy until a waiter accidentally
bumped into me. I pulled away and looked up. "Hey, watch it!"
The waiter looked utterly appalled as he balanced his tray of drinks,
muttered an apology, and hurried to one more table over.
Joseph squeezed my hand. "It was only an accident."
I exhaled. "Sorry, I overreacted." I guess I was still shaken up from the
incident earlier.
He smiled, trying to distract me with some local club trivia. "Did you
know they have local bands play here every first Friday?"
"Really? Do you come here often?"
He nodded, ordering another round. "How about a movie night at my
place later?”
 I took a deep breath. "Ugh, I can't. My mom's gonna have an aneurysm
if I don't tell her where I was tonight. She's gonna keep asking where I've
been."
Joseph's face darkened. "We'll come up with something. A story so
good she won't have any doubts. Besides, what is she going to do? Sounds
like you are getting out and hanging out with people, just like she’s been
harping on you." He paused. “Don’t you have like some girlfriend that you
can pretend to 'spend the night with', but hang with me instead?”
I shook my head sadly. He had a good point, but she was also strangely
controlling. Plus, I didn’t have any girlfriends that were close enough to
stay the night, and Mom knew that.
I took a sip of my drink. "You know what? I'm tired of constantly
walking on eggshells around her. Soon, I'll be free from her accusations and
her claims that I'm unstable."
Joseph put his drink down, leaned in, and took my hands in his. "She's
just taking out her own issues on you. She doesn’t get that she’s driving
away someone way cooler and stronger than she'll ever be."
Before he could continue, a voice rang out, "Mira?"
I dropped Joseph’s grip and my hand tightened on the drink in front of
me.
You've got to be kidding me. Why was he here? I knew something bad
was going to happen tonight. Why did I agree to come here tonight?
Joseph attempted to act tough and asked, "Who are you?" I would have
been thankful at a different time. Hell, even smitten that he cared enough to
defend me. But right now, I just needed him to shut the hell up.
“Who…”
I kicked his leg under the table to shut him up. An older man with
graying hair approached our table and stood in front of me. He frowned.
"Mira? It's been so long."
Seeing Joseph's defensive posture, I quickly intervened. "Joseph, meet
my dad."
Joseph's eyes darted between us. "Your... dad? You said..."
Dad cut him off. "Mira!" He reached out for my hand, but I jerked
away. "We need to have a chat, right now!"
“I don’t have anything to say to you!” This was so messed up. How
likely was it that my dad happened to be at the same nightclub when I used
a fake ID to get in? He could really blow my entire cover. Get Joseph in
trouble. Never mind myself. Like, I can't handle this right now. I slid out of
the booth. I just wanted to scream, run away. All the anger at him leaving
us, abandoning me, leaving me alone with my terror of a mother, bubbled
up inside my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
“Mira…”
“Nothing you can say will make me talk to you.” He lost that right
when he left. I downed the rest of my drink right in front of him. I didn't
care what he thought. I was way too pissed to give two shits. "I just... this is
too much for me right now.” I shot a pointed look at Joseph. Now would be
a good time for my boyfriend to step in. Be my hero, Joseph, and rescue me
now.
Luckily, he seemed to take the hint. Joseph stood and stepped between
us. "Look, Mr. Harris,” he looked at me, then at my dad, "I'll ensure Mira
gets home safely."
My dad blinked at him. "This doesn't concern you." He then looked
back at me. "You should go, Mira. This isn't the place for you." He grabbed
my arm. "Let's go outside and talk."
"Let me go, or I'll scream!" I threatened, my voice louder than I
intended. I was way too out of it to handle this right now, but I wouldn’t let
him boss me around. "You abandoned me. You don’t get to come pretend to
care now."
He hadn't even called me once. He made no effort to see me, or even
Tiffany, for that matter. Did he even give Mom any child support? He
clearly didn’t care. And now he wanted to "talk"? If he had stayed in my
life, maybe I would've listened. But now? Oh, hell no.
Out of nowhere, a blonde woman in a red dress approached us, having
difficulty walking in her heels. I'd stumble too if I were dumb enough to
wear heels. "Mark? What's going on? You just ran off without saying
anything…” she flashed an awkward smile at me. “And who’s this?”
Who the hell was this? The woman my dad left my mom for?
Her appearance totally threw me off. Was she significant in Dad's life?
But then, my eyes landed on the necklace she wore. A weird sense of déjà
vu hit me. I swear I've seen that exact necklace somewhere.
“Sierra, I…” my dad muttered as she approached.
Dad's grip loosened, and Joseph was quick to step in, guiding me away
from him and out. "Let's bounce while he's distracted," he muttered, leaving
my dad and this strange woman arguing at our former table, their words lost
in the club's din as a new song ramped up.
We left the club. The city's cool, muted sounds surrounded me. I heard
car horns, screeching brakes, and beeping crosswalks, which felt normal.
Joseph was with me. He hailed a cab. While we waited, I heard a faint shout
behind me.
"Mira, please wait!"
Without turning, I replied, "Not now, Dad."
Just then, a cab pulled up, saving us as a bouncer stopped my dad at the
door.
Sliding into the cab, I leaned into Joseph. "Thank you," I whispered,
my mind still racing. I couldn’t see my dad, didn’t even care to look. My
head throbbed, a cruel reminder of the evening's indulgence. My feet ached
in rebellion against hours of dancing. And I wasn't even wearing heels.
Joseph wrapped an arm around me. "Are you okay?"
"It's just... why now? After all this time?"
He gave my back a comforting rub. "Maybe you should crash at my
place for a bit?" He leaned in, his lips brushing against my forehead. "Take
your time. Sleep on it."
As we approached his place, I took a deep breath. Tonight was
overwhelming, but with Joseph, there seemed a glimmer of hope. "Maybe,"
I murmured, "but let's deal with tonight first."
He just nodded and paid the driver.
Being here, or honestly anywhere with Joseph full-time? I could totally
see it.

OceanofPDF.com
 EIGHT
Mark
2006
I killed the engine and glanced up at the house I once called home. It’s been
nearly a year since I stepped foot inside. Leaving my marriage and family
wasn't an easy decision, but here I was, back again. After talking with
Sierra, who I wouldn’t dare bring up to my ex-wife, she suggested I talk to
Sherry about Mira. Deep down, I knew leaving had been wrong, and my
lack of contact made it even worse. Now, I had to fix this. My aim was to
make up for my absence as a father and do right by my girls. I wondered if
they missed me. Of course they did, right?
Last night's events replayed repeatedly in my head, taking up prime
real estate in my brain. The last place I expected to see Mira was in a
nightclub. The makeup, the outfit, the drinking, and this kid she was with,
Joseph, I remembered. His attire and confident demeanor made him appear
older than he was, I thought, but he still seemed like a teenager, just like
Mira. But what if I was wrong? The way he was all over her, serving her
drinks... did he know she was a minor? The sight of them filled me with
rage. This was something I'd expect from Tiffany, not sweet, shy Mira. Not
only that, I swore I had seen him before, but I just couldn’t place where.
What did Mira think when she saw me there with Sierra? I should have
introduced them. I should have done a million things differently. The
thought embarrassed me. I loved Sierra, but she wasn’t the mother of my
children. I never told Mira about Sierra, because I didn't want Sherry to
know about her.
I should never have left, but in the end, I didn’t have much of a choice.
I was unhappy. Sherry was unhappy.
Sherry and I had our differences, many of them revolving around Mira.
To me, Mira’s issues, if one could even call them that, weren’t a big deal.
She liked to organize things and was introverted. She was a loner; I also had
few friends during my childhood. Sometimes I wanted things done a
specific way; I wasn’t as particular as Mira, but I understood. Even Mira’s
occasional temper outbursts seemed just part of growing up.
 But Sherry, bless her heart, always thought something was wrong with
Mira. “She needs help,” she’d say.
Last night, Mira looked different, and I wondered if something was
happening to her. I had emailed Sherry several times asking about the girls,
and she told me they were fine and adjusting well. I thought things between
Sherry and Mira were getting better, so I stayed away.
I pulled myself back to the present moment and exhaled a breath I
didn’t know I was holding.
Whatever fight and disagreement Sherry and I had over Mira in the
past, it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Mira and what was
going on with her. I just hoped Sherry could fill me in so we could help her
before she made a mistake she’d regret.
I sucked in a deep breath as I threw open my car door and got out.
Staying in my car, lost in thought, wouldn't resolve anything. I moved out
because I just couldn’t stand being with Sherry anymore. I fell out of love,
and it was easier to avoid her. I walked up to the front door.
Was Mira on a risky path, or was I thinking like Sherry and
overreacting? Maybe Mira was just growing up and discovering herself.
She'd turn eighteen soon. Whatever was going on, I had to understand it,
and fast.
I paused before the door. It wasn’t just Mira I wanted to find out about.
There was also Tiffany. I hadn’t seen her in so long. I wondered how she
was coping.
I rang the doorbell. It felt weird being back here, ringing the doorbell
of the place I once called home. The place I had paid half the mortgage on
up until a few months ago when our divorce was finalized.
Tiffany threw open the door, and her jaw dropped. "Dad?!" She fiddled
with the hem of her shirt for a moment before stepping forward to give me a
very underwhelming hug. "W-why are you here?"
Ouch! She was known for her big bear hugs. But what did I expect her
reaction to be when I made the decision to up and leave my family? After
things with Sierra got serious, I had intended to get back into their lives.
But the reasons for my departure grounded my resolve. I believed that
by leaving, I would make things better for everyone. I hoped that by
seeking my own happiness, I could better understand both my daughters.
I thought Mira improving her relationship with her mom was crucial. A
girl was shaped by their mother. That was what my mom used to tell me
when she told me to be careful who I chose to marry, especially if we had
daughters.
She never really warmed up to Sherry. I wished I had listened.
Tiffany stood there, hands on her hips, waiting for me to say something
more. She always needed to know everything. “I know you have
questions,” I said awkwardly. “But…”
“You bet your ass I do,” she responded, narrowing her eyes. “Why
haven’t you called? Even once? Did you forget I existed?”
Wow, she hadn’t changed a bit. She reminded me so much of her mom.
While I would address her questions soon, I had come with an intention
that was bigger than her lip.
"I swear I’ll answer your questions soon, but right now, I need to see
your mom."
She blinked. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?" Her breath
caught, and she covered her mouth with her fist. "Mom's still asleep
because Mira didn't come home last night."
I stumbled back, almost falling off the porch step. That made all of this
that much worse. Mira wasn't home? A part of me hoped Mira would be
home so I would know she was safe, and not out with some boy who I
wasn't even sure was her age or older. It was hard to tell.
“Is this a common occurrence? Mira not coming home, that is?”
Tiffany shook her head. “No, this is the first time, Dad. I-I hope she is
okay..." Tiffany looked down in shame and whispered, "we don't always get
along. Well, most of the time. But I'm still worried about her."
My chest felt heavy. "Can you go get your mother, Tiffany?"
She looked like she wanted to say more, to scream, to demand why I
had been absent, to get answers to a thousand questions, but she appeared to
swallow her feelings. Maybe she had done some growing up since I’d been
gone.
"Sure, Dad." She opened the door and motioned me in.
I walked into the living room. The house stank terribly, like staleness
and old garbage. The living room was a disaster of food-covered plates,
strewn blankets, and some dirty clothes. What the hell happened here?
Amid the clutter was a photograph of Mira and Tiffany when they were
toddlers. Things were bad. Had Mira just given up on keeping things tidy?
Had Sherry? That wasn’t the Mira or my wife I remembered.
 Sherry entered dressed in baggy sweats, a mess of curly greying hair,
looking a lot older than I remembered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Well, look who's decided to grace us with his presence.” Her hands went
immediately to her hips. “What the hell are you doing here, Mark?"
Reading Sherry's emotions was always straightforward; she wore them
on her sleeves. However, predicting what might trigger her was the real
challenge.
Tiffany hesitated by the door, eyes darting between us. “Tiffany,” I
began, keeping my voice level and calm, "could you give us a moment?”
After a moment's hesitation and a deep sigh, she retreated out of sight.
I moved a step closer to Sherry.
She backed away, her eyes flashing with rage. "Don't come any closer.
What do you want? You've got some nerve coming in here after
everything."
I took a deep breath and touched her shoulder. It was the way I'd
touched her shoulder to calm her down in the past. "We need to talk about
Mira.”
She scoffed. "What did she do this time?” It was painfully obvious
things weren't great at home. It was even obvious that things between Mira
and her mom weren't any better.
I knew then I made a huge mistake by not staying in contact.
“Do you have any idea where she is right now?”
“Oh, now you decide to show up? How touching! Where were you for
the past year? Off playing 'world's worst dad'? Now you want to know
about Mira? Oh, I wouldn’t know where she is. She didn't come home last
night.” She rolled her eyes. “Probably out with that boy that drove her home
a few months ago, I dunno,” she huffed. “Look, why don't you go back to
your other life? We are doing just fine. I'll deal with Mira whenever she
shows her face. We’ll have a cozy chat, just like any loving mother and
daughter, wouldn't we?” She laughed, but it was bitter, cold. Just like usual.
“Now get out of my house, before I—”
I took another deep breath. "Sherry, let's not do this now. We need to
find Mira."
She clenched her fists. "You think you can just waltz back into our
lives? Maybe I should call the police...,"
"I understand you're angry," I began, "but right now, our daughter
needs us."
 Sherry shrugged. “Why worry so much? She'll show up. Even when
she is home, she hides out in her room, so it’s like she’s never here,
anyway.”
“So, you don’t care that she isn’t home?”
Sherry brushed some hair out of her face. “It’s been a while, hasn't it?
Were you just dropping by to critique my parenting or did you have a point?
Mira's been... oh, I don’t know... actually pretty normal for someone who is
anything but. More than I can say for some deadbeat dads I know."
My jaw clenched involuntarily. "Normal?" I pointed to the living room.
"This is not Mira's normal. Look at this place."
She glared at me. "You left us, Mark.” She looked around at the mess I
was still pointing at. “It’s a little mess. No big freaking deal. But what is a
big deal was when she threw that shelf full of books at the school.”
I gritted my teeth. “You know, that was because she was being bullied.”
“She was acting weird, just like always. Took all the strings I could pull
to save her. And where were you? Huh? You were so quick to point fingers
at the school, and talk about bullying. But you didn’t see the bigger picture,
did you? I talked to the school, and that stopped but it didn’t stop there. The
root of the problem remained. She has no friends.”
I pushed on, "Then explain why you were up all-night waiting for her?"
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t up waiting for her. I was up trying to
comfort Tiffany, who was worried about her sister. With how Mira freaks
out at Tiffany over little things, it's a miracle Tiffany worries about her at
all.” She waved her hands in the air. “But you? Why the sudden interest?
Do you remember when I begged for your help? That time Mira was talking
gibberish and when she washed all the dishes in the house because she
thought bacteria would make us sick. You brushed it all off, saying it was
just a phase. That it was her imagination. But it was never normal. Nothing
about her is normal!"
I took a deep breath, not even sure Sherry would care, but I needed to
tell her, regardless. "I saw Mira last night, at some seedy night club, dressed
like she was twenty-five. She was drinking, underage, and cozying up to
some punk."
“So, were you hanging out in some seedy nightclub too…?” Sherry
chuckled. "Back when I was losing sleep over Mira's episodes, you told me
not to worry. So now? I don’t. She’s just living her life, however messed up
that might be."
 My heart pounded. "Our daughter is out there, doing God knows what,
and this is your response?"
She shrugged. "You’re a little too late. She'll be an adult next month.
Any chance of getting her any help is long gone."
It was a waste of time trying to come to Sherry about my concerns. The
coldness in her words now made me realize how much she resented Mira.
How did I never see it before?
I decided I would help Mira on my own. She was my daughter, too.
First, I needed to find her.
I turned back to the door. "Coming here was a mistake."
I was ready to depart when the front door swung open and Mira walked
in. The moment she looked at me, her face paled. She bit her lip, averting
her gaze. She wore an oversized sweater and jeans. She looked like the
Mira I remembered, but her eyes... they were wary and tired.
"Good morning! What is this, a family reunion?" Mira chirped as she
danced around me, turned to her mother and wrapped her arms around
Sherry in a hug that looked about as genuine as a three-dollar bill. "Oh,
Mom! It's just so wonderful to see you!"
Sherry shot me a smug look, clearly aware of the act. She accepted the
hug, though it was clear it wasn't her idea. "See? She's fine." They pulled
apart, and she brushed past me, her shoulder nudging mine before
disappearing down the hallway.
Mira shifted from foot to foot. She reached into her purse and took out
a garbage bag. She didn’t look at me as she picked up the trash. She aligned
a set of magazines on the coffee table—each one perfectly parallel to the
edge. I felt so much relief to see the old Mira was still there.
"Remember when we used to make those paper boats, Mir?"
"I'm fine."
I wished she would mention the previous night. I didn't want to start
that conversation. She was already angry and hurt. That much was obvious.
We both were avoiding talking about the obvious elephant in the room.
It was there. We couldn't overlook it.
After a few minutes of neither of us talking but Mira working to pick
up the place, I swallowed hard, my Adam's apple bobbing, and broke the
silence. "Talk to me, Mira."
Her response was a tight-lipped sigh. “You mean talk about last night?"
Her gaze darkened. "Save it. I don’t want a lecture."
 "I'm not here to lecture you."
Her posture tightened. "Then why are you here? So, you and mom can
team up against me? Next, you'll be sending me off to see a shrink!" She
took a step back from me, as if my presence was suffocating. "You can just
stop pretending like you care so much."
I lowered my eyes. "I was just... worried. Seeing you at a club with that
guy. It wasn't normal. I mean, you're normal." I really needed to be careful
with my words. I didn’t want to sound like Sherry.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, so now you're an expert on 'me'?" She sighed.
"That guy last night, his name is Joseph. He’s my boyfriend. We met at
school. But why would you care about any of that? You moved on. Forgot
all about us. So why the hell are you here?"
I flinched as if she’d slapped me. She held so much anger.
“I came to check on you, Mira.”
Tears were forming in her eyes. "I'm just peachy. Why are you here
after leaving me with her?”
I knew what she was referring to. I felt like crap again. I had thought
leaving would make things better between Sherry and Mira. But it seemed
like I only made things worse, and now Mira hated me, too.
"I'm sorry." I had let her down. "I wish I could go back, Mira. I wish I
hadn't left you with... her." Mira didn’t even need to go into detail for me to
know it was bad.
Mira smiled slightly. "I appreciate you admitting it. I thought you left
because of me."
It felt as if a giant boulder had struck me. I looked at Mira for an
explanation. "Why do you think that?"
Her lips trembled. "Mom... she blamed me for you leaving. She said
that if I hadn’t been so... difficult, you’d have stayed."
I never knew the depths of Sherry's cruelty. I knew Mira and her
mother had their issues. I thought Sherry just had a hard time connecting
with Mira. But I never realized that she actually strongly disliked her.
"Mira, I left because I thought the constant fighting, the yelling... I
thought it was harming you and Tiffany more. I thought leaving would
make it better."
She let out a bitter chuckle. "Well, seems like you’ve found a better
life. Especially with your new... companion."
I knew she was talking about Sierra. I cursed under my breath.
 Mira smirked, a flash of her usual wit. "Moving on with a younger
model, huh?”
"Her name is Sierra. I started seeing her shortly before I moved out. I
hope... I hope that doesn’t change how you see me."
"I don’t blame you. I realize, over time, that mom isn’t exactly the
easiest person to be around."
"With Sierra, it’s... different. She is younger than me, it’s true. Twelve
years. She has a thirteen-year-old daughter, Leah. I really think you’d like
Sierra. She reminds me of you. She is organized. She likes to keep a neat
house, and she's probably one of the most understanding people I've ever
met. I-I…"
Mira exhaled. "Sounds amazing. Anywhere is better than living here.
Tiffany and Mom love to torment me. They make messes for the sole
purpose of making me uncomfortable.”
"Mira, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known, should’ve been there."
She shrugged, but the pain was clear in her eyes. "But now you do."
Enough was enough. Now that I knew just how bad things were for Mira, I
couldn’t leave her here. I wouldn't condone the abuse. Besides, she was
likely making bad choices, like going to clubs, because she was looking for
a way to rebel and let go of all the stress.
Swallowing hard, I blurted, "Mira, how about coming to stay with me
and Sierra for a bit? Just to see how it feels?" I couldn't bear the thought of
her in this hostile environment, but approaching Sherry about it... That was
a storm waiting to happen.
Mira looked at me, and for a moment, I saw the little girl who used to
rush into my arms after a bad dream. "I'll think about it." She paused and
finally turned to look at me. "Look, Dad. I'm glad you're happy. I really am.
And if she's keeping you sane and organized, all the better for everyone
involved. But I'm a package deal, quirks and all. And if I come over, don’t
expect me not to point out when you're acting your age or when Sierra's
youthful energy makes you look like a grandpa."
"I want you to be happy." I had to think on my feet. “I’d even like to
get to know your new boyfriend better."
"Yeah... Your first impression of him isn’t great. I can tell. That's not
who he truly was. He is very protective and understanding. We were just
two stupid teenagers..."
 I laughed. "I wasn't the most responsible teenager ever." My thoughts
drifted to her boyfriend. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about
him rubbed me the wrong way.
Taking her to a nightclub wasn't the problem, as I acted just as dumb as
a teenager. He came across as fake. It was just this gut feeling I couldn't
shake. Even Sierra told me to give him a chance before I judged him on a
feeling. I have made mistakes before. After all, I chose Sherry, who had her
own issues, so I'm in no position to judge.
But Mira, she's my little girl. I can't believe I've let things slide this past
year. Mira trusted this Joseph character. I really wanted to give that guy a
chance. I mean, if Mira trusted him, there must be something good, right? If
he ever hurt her, he would have had to answer to me. But I just sat back and
saw how it played out, hoping that my instincts were wrong. Because, my
God, she deserved a little happiness.
Mira looked at me. "Would Sierra really mind if I were to move in?"
I nodded. “We talked about it for a long time last night. I had
mentioned that there was a possibility I'd have you move in.”
I had considered setting up a guest room for my daughters, and now it's
finally happening. Mira's mouth twisted into a slight smile. “Let me grab a
few things.” She headed upstairs to pack a bag just as Sherry and Tiffany
re-entered the room. Sherry muttered about Mira's cleaning before staring at
me. "What are you still doing here, Mark?"
"I'm waiting for Mira to pack her things," I replied. "She's coming to
stay with me."
Sherry's eyes narrowed. I thought she was going to freak out, as she
often did when angry. Instead, she laughed—a cold, gloomy laugh. "I give
it a week. Just a week, and you’ll be knocking at my door, begging me to
take her back."
My palms became sweaty. "Why do you torment her? Why do you
make Mira’s life so miserable?"
"Tormenting? Ha!" Sherry scoffed. "Mira's her own worst enemy. She
makes things more difficult than necessary. Can't remember the last time
she just sat down and relaxed. Always blowing things out of proportion. It’s
exhausting. 'Okay' isn't enough for her. If things aren't perfect, it ruins her
entire day and everyone else's. I used to tiptoe around her tantrums. Now, I
speak my mind and tell her to deal with it. She hates it, but oh well."
 Sherry stepped closer, inches from my face. "The school won't stop
calling about her absences. At this point, I wonder if it even matters if she
attends, given that she's failing all her classes. Her so-called 'anger issues'?
Still there. She threw a cup at Tiffany when Tiffany asked a question. Every
conversation with her feels like walking on eggshells. She's either giving
attitude or cleaning obsessively. When I try to ask her what's wrong, most
of the time it seems like it's over nothing. She always tells me to fuck off
and slams the door in my face. She is a bitch all the time. It's no wonder she
has no friends. Ugh, I just can’t with her…”
I frowned. “It’s obvious you don’t really care about her. It's not about
her attendance or her grades for you. It’s about control. And enough with
the name-calling. She’s not crazy. She has feelings."
Sherry smirked. "Don't be so righteous. It's annoying. Maybe if you
had been around more, you’d know the real Mira. She’s not the innocent
little girl you remember."
I took a deep breath. “Enough. Mira deserves better. She needs love,
understanding, and patience.”
"Mira has always been…” Sherry didn’t finish her thought. “Whatever,
it doesn’t matter. If she wants to leave, then she can. Maybe you can fix
whatever is wrong with her."
I tightened my jaw, my eyes darting around the disarray in the living
room. "From the sounds of it, Tiffany might not be safe around you, either.
You’re so cold. That’s no environment for our children. And look at this
place. This is neglect. You’re neglecting the kids."
Sherry's hands clenched and her eyes narrowed. "Screw you." She spun
on her heel and exited the room.
A few minutes later, Mira came downstairs, lugging a large duffel bag
and a backpack. She must have been packing when the argument began.
"Can we leave? I couldn’t pack everything, but I got the essentials. I just
need to get out of here."
Tiffany rolled in. "Hey, Dad! Good to see you, I guess. Things have
been... wild." She wrapped her arms around me. I held her close, wishing
she’d say she wanted out, too.
I hugged her back. "It's not right for either of you to live like this. If
you ever need to leave, you know you can come to me. Just say the word." I
wanted so badly to make her come. But do you make a sixteen-year-old you
abandoned come live with you? If I tried for custody, I have no doubt
Tiffany and even Sherry could drag me through the mud.
She gave a weak smile to Mira. "I'm gonna miss you like crazy.
Promise me you'll swing by. For both me and Mom?"
Mira bit her lip, nodding. "Promise."
I pulled Mira close, heading for the door, my mind racing on whether
to bring Tiffany too.

OceanofPDF.com
 NINE
Mira
2006
I stared out of the car window. Ever since my dad left, the thought kept
haunting me. He had abandoned me. For the past year, I felt detached, with
only Mom and Tiffany against me. I forgave Tiffany because I knew she
was taking Mom's energy. Later, I found out he had a new girlfriend. Now, I
live with him. I hope I can have peace.
"Everything okay?" Dad asked.
"Yeah, lost in thought." I tightened my grip on the seat, betraying my
unease.
"Change is never easy." The car slowed down, and my heart raced. My
dad continued, "You've grown so much this past year."
It suddenly hit me with the memories of the wild night at the club. My
cheeks went warm, thinking of how stupid I'd been. "I... went to some dark
places," I admitted. I wanted to forget how my mom hated me because I
wasn't like her. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." I was leaving out
the part where Joseph convinced me it was a good idea.
My dad exhaled as he pulled into a driveway. I'm here for you now, and
your honesty means everything."
"I promise no more drunken escapades. The morning after was... a
lesson."
“Good,” was all dad said. "Here we are."
We pulled up to a two-story red brick house with some dying flowers
on the bed in front. Sierra's sudden appearance surprised me when the front
door opened. Last night, she wore a flashy dress, straightened her hair, and
wore bold makeup. Today, she appeared entirely changed. Her hair was neat
and her makeup subtle. She smiled. She looked approachable. Had she
changed, or was I imagining it?
She walked to Dad and hugged and kissed him. He came to my door
and let me out. Ugh, the thought of finally meeting her outside of the
nightclub made my stomach dance.
 Sierra walked toward me. "You must be Mira! I've heard so much about
you. I’m Sierra."
I shook her hand. She couldn't be the same woman from last night.
"Nice to meet you."
She cocked her head. "I’m over the moon to finally meet you."
Her gushing made my guard shoot up. Was she just putting on an act,
or was she for real? My grip tightened on my bag.
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sierra will show you to your room
and introduce you to Leah."
"Oh, Mira, Leah's been super pumped about meeting you. She's always
wanted an older sis. I bet you two will be thick as thieves in no time!"
I smiled. But on the inside, the idea of having another little sister was
the most horrible thing. If she was anything like Tiffany, I would lose my
goddamn mind.
Walking inside, the house was all crisp white and on-point
organization. A vase sat right in the middle of a table, books lined up by
size, and seriously, not a single cord out of place. It felt like the house itself
was telling me, "Welcome home." Or whatever the hell that meant.
All of this just made me mad. Why didn't Dad invite me here before?
Why was he keeping Sierra, this nice home, and Leah all to himself? My
pulse quickened. I had to take several deep, steadying breaths. I couldn't
fuck this up. It was here, or Mom's, and Mom couldn't care less about me.
Sierra led me to a small room tucked in the back corner of the house.
Honestly, it felt more like a stuffed closet than an actual room. "Here you
go!"
"Um, thanks." I tried not to let my disappointment show. My room
back at Mom’s was big. Here, the bed completely filled the entire room.
Where was all my stuff gonna go?
I began unpacking. I hung my clothes by color and type in what passed
for a closet, trying to make things a little homey. There was this shelf on the
wall. I started arranging my photographs and a few ornaments. But where
was I supposed to put the rest of my stuff? Every belonging had its place in
my world. But that was sadly lacking here.
Suddenly, the door squeaked and in barged this explosion of blonde
hair and freckles. This girl was like a living emoji. "Hi! I'm Leah!"
I hugged a shirt I’d just pulled out. "Oh, um, hey. I’m Mira"
 Leah plopped down beside me. "So, Mira, right? What do you like
doing? I mean, apart from the whole unpacking thing. Oh, have you ever
tried painting? I did this art class once, and the teacher was, like, super dull.
But you seem like you'd be into art. Speaking of, read any good books
lately?"
Despite her annoying energy, I lit up at her last sentence. "I love
reading too!"
"What books are you into? Fiction? Non-fiction? Mystery? Oh,
speaking of mysteries, have you watched those crime shows lately? I really
like them. I always talk through them and try to guess who the bad guy is.
Mom gets mad, but it's more thrilling that way. Which reminds me, before I
forget, Mom wanted me to ask, do you have any food allergies?"
I went to respond, but Leah was bouncing on to the next topic.
"I remember in school. I read out loud and everyone said I was good.
Do you think I could be an author? I bet I'd be a best-seller. I'd sell a million
copies. But it wouldn't be romance. Mom loves those romance novels. I’ve
tried them, but they’re just... blah. Corny if you ask me."
I played with the hem of my shirt. When she finally stopped talking, I
answered her mom's question. "I have no allergies."
From downstairs, someone called, "Leah, come give a hand in the
kitchen?" Leah sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. "You know, Mom's
all about teamwork in the kitchen.” Leah imitated her mom. “We all have to
pull our weight, Leah.” She stopped and laughed. “That is seriously what
she sounds like. But anyway, the real truth though. I think Mom doesn't
want to do it. But hey, our little secret. Right?" She nudged me in the arm.
"But you'll help too, won't you? I mean, Mom will like you so, so much if
you help. Mom is this very huge fan of tidy people. Me too. Fewer chores
and more fun. I think we'll get along just fine, sista." She smiled really big
and gave me a big hug. “Welcome to the family.”
I laid back on the bed. Finally, she was gone. Whew, was she
exhausting? I liked Leah; she was really nice. But she talked way too much.
I needed to talk to Dad if my staying here was going to work. I needed my
space, and surprise visits just weren’t my thing. Maybe he would agree to
put a lock on my door, just in case.
After lying in contemplation for a while, a gentle knock sounded at the
door. "Come in," I responded softly.
 The door opened and Dad walked in. He shut the door behind him.
"Hey, Mira. This room's only temporary," he began, glancing around.
"We're clearing out another room for you. Is that fine?"
"It's fine." My eyes darted to the mess on the floor. My belongings
were a mess. It bothered me. I needed to figure out this issue at once.
"Where should I put my stuff instead of the floor?"
He looked down. "I'll find you some shelves or maybe a small dresser,"
he said. He changed the subject. "Have you met Leah yet?"
I fidgeted a bit, recalling the brief interaction. "Yes, she's... nice," I
hesitated. A tight knot formed in my stomach. How could I bring up this
issue without sounding judgmental? Or like Mom would tell me, to stop
being so God damn ungrateful.
Dad peered at me. "Something up?"
My eyes darted from the door and back to him. "Leah's very nice.
But..." I paused, biting my lip. "Dad, she entered without knocking. I can't
handle it. It is my personal space. What if I was naked, reading, organizing,
or just thinking?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I'll give Sierra and Leah a heads-up. But know
that we're all pretty laid back around here."
I hugged myself. "That’s fine, Dad, but I'm not. I need space.
Boundaries. I need things to be predictable. It's how I cope." At least at
Mom's, she left me alone. "And I can't always just spill my guts about how I
feel. I just wanna be me without thinking everyone's talking behind my
back." I could feel the tears coming. "If I can't have that," I was shaking, "It
can't be the same as with Mom. And, like, I just don't want anyone to think
that I…"
He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Understood. I promise I'll make
sure everyone respects your boundaries." He paused. "We're about to start a
movie downstairs. Some old comedy. Want to join?"
I shook my head. I appreciated his effort, but I didn't feel up to it. "No,
thanks." We were silent for a moment. Then I whispered, "Is there a phone I
can use? I want to call Joseph. He should know what's happening."
"You can use the one in my office. I'll get you a cell phone soon." We
stood and hugged. From downstairs, I heard a faint laugh. I got
goosebumps. Before I could calm down, Leah was back. Sierra too.
Leah, twirling a strand of her hair, strolled in. She looked around and
then pointed at a photo frame on my shelf. "Oh, Mira, did you see this?" My
eyes darted to the frame. It was a minor tilt, but it annoyed me.
He quickly led Leah and Sierra out. "Let's give Mira some space and
privacy as she settles in."
The words "settle in" made me think he might not let me have privacy
forever. The room felt strange and small. The walls seemed to be moving
closer, and the bright paint was overwhelming. Anything out of place in the
room bothered me. I tried not to panic. Maybe leaving my mom's house was
a mistake. Leah seemed nice at first, but I was feeling nervous. Leaving my
mom's place was a big deal, and I was unsure about my new life. I started to
feel anxious, and I couldn't help but worry that Leah would make things
more complicated. Was I really ready for that?

OceanofPDF.com
 TEN
Mira
2006
A month had passed since I started living with Dad. Today's my eighteenth
birthday, but instead of wanting to have a party, there's this heavy feeling
hanging around. I stared at the pic of Tiffany, Mom, Dad, and me. Being
here, away from the constant yelling, had cleared my head.
I really wished things were better with Mom. She used to do my hair
every morning and would come to all my school plays. It felt like she
wanted to be with me. Then something changed. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly
when.
For about as long as I could remember, she told everyone something
was "off" with me. I couldn’t forget how she whispered to grandma, during
her last days, that I needed to see a therapist. It was just one of many secret
conversations they had. But grandma, like Dad, always stood up for me.
She'd say I reminded her of someone really special. Mom didn't like that.
She got so angry she pushed and pushed until even grandma believed. It
hurts when your own mother feels ashamed of you.
For the longest time, I couldn't understand why I was different. I never
understood why it was unusual as a child to want to keep my room clean.
Whenever Mom went out for coffee or playdates with other parents,
conversations often revolved around their struggles to get their kids to tidy
up. Mom would mention how I not only kept my room clean, but organized
it to an almost extreme degree. She would point out to me how those little
girls were playing, making messes, and having to have their mothers beg
them to pick up after themselves. She said that was normal behavior. But it
didn’t feel normal to be messy, to be disorganized. I couldn’t understand
why I couldn’t have both. It wasn't like I didn't like to play with dolls or run
around. On a psychological level, I just couldn't stand the mess, the
disorganization. I needed order to be grounded. So, I pushed back the older
I got. Mom didn’t like that.
 So that was when everything went to shit. When Dad left, it only got
worse. When he came back, and I went to live with him, I overheard her tell
him he’d be begging for me to move back with her. Now I haven’t heard
from her in over a month. As much as it hurt, I couldn’t let her back in to
wound me further. It was a hard pill to swallow to realize the mother I once
knew just didn’t want to be a part of my life. Flaws and all.
Yet each buzz of my phone had me hoping she’d reach out. I’d take a
deep breath, trying to ignore the old-book smell, tap the phone, and look.
But it was always the same. No text from mom. It felt like a ton of bricks on
my chest. At least Tiffany's text made me feel better. Looking forward to
seeing you. Hang in there!
Dad gave me the phone to keep in touch with Tiffany and Joseph.
Things with Tiffany had gotten a lot better since not living together. I
genuinely believed most of our arguments stemmed from the tense
atmosphere at home. Living apart, I no longer had to clean up after her, and
I felt a lot less anger and frustration toward her. Since Tiffany didn’t have to
see me every day, there was less to fight about.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Opening the door, Dad walked
in and hugged me. "Eighteen already? Crazy to think you're all grown up
now. So, how does it feel to have voting rights?”
"Still the same old me, just with an added year." I joked.
"Got any cool plans for the evening?"
"How about having Joseph over for dinner?" I asked after some
hesitation. I couldn’t shake off the nerves about introducing him. Plus,
Joseph hadn’t texted back yet. All I'd wanted was a simple
acknowledgment, a "Happy Birthday," or even just a smiley. But hours after
my initial text, there was still nothing.
After what felt like an eternity, Dad nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to
Sierra."
"Thanks, Dad." As he left, I eagerly typed out a text to Joseph, reading
it over three times, adjusting the wording, then finally hitting send.
As I waited, I thought about how living with Joseph had seemed like
the ideal escape a month ago. But I told Joseph that it was too soon, and I
was going to try living with my dad for a while to see if things got better.
Somehow, I was still angry with my dad. I was hurt about his abandonment,
but living here wasn't so bad. He worked a lot, but in a few weeks, I would
finally be able to move into a room with an attached bathroom in the
basement. It was perfect because I really loved my privacy away from
everyone.
Things with Sierra were good. She was nice and appreciative of how
tidy I was. I did the dishes, cleaned up after myself and did my share. I
didn't need to be asked or told like a child because it was who I was. I
glanced at my phone one last time, hoping Joseph would reply soon, but it
remained silent.
The sound of another knock drew my attention. Sierra bounced into the
room, holding out a small, wrapped gift. “Happy birthday, sweetie!” But as
she sat down, something changed. She seemed, I dunno, off? “Mark said
you want Joseph over tonight, Is that your boyfriend? From the club?"
"Yeah.” I nodded. “Hey…about the nightclub? We only went there one
night. He means so much to me, and I want him here."
Sierra seemed distant for a moment. "It's not only about that night. I
know guys like him. I just wanna make sure he’s well. Sometimes the
overly nice guys will be the ones to hurt you in the end. You're young..."
She took a deep breath, not finishing her thought. "But hey, it's your
birthday and I'm meeting Tiffany for the first time tonight... So, why not?"
A weird feeling settled in my stomach. "Thanks."
Since when did Sierra turn judge and jury? She didn’t even know me
that well.
Just last week, she'd dragged me into this random dance-off, laughing
like we were in middle school or something. Seeing Sierra this serious
now? Majorly weird. Seeing Sierra so serious now? Totally creeped me out.
Sierra's moods were a legit roller coaster. One moment, she was having
fun and playing games, the next, she was mysterious and odd. I couldn’t
help but think, if I were to meet my boyfriend's mom, would she be this all
over the place, too?
Sierra, maybe picking up on my vibes, tried to switch things up.
"Leah's downstairs, probably raiding the kitchen or something. Let’s go see
what she’s doing, okay?"
Just hearing Leah's name made me tense up. Over the past month, I had
tried to warm up to Leah, but she just did things to get under my skin.
“Cool.”
Sierra smiled before leaving the room.
I went downstairs and sat on the couch, flipped open my phone and
tried to play Snake. But Leah kept interrupting, asking what I was doing. I
would rush to my bedroom and slam the door just to get a second of peace.
It's like she didn't get the whole privacy thing. It didn’t matter if I was on
the phone or trying to take a quick nap. She’d just keep throwing questions
my way. Some made sense, but others? Totally random. Being alone with
her was just too much sometimes. But I had to give her credit—she usually
knocked before just barging into my room.
An hour passed when there was a knock on my door. I was waiting for
that text back from Joseph when, out of nowhere, Tiffany walked in.
She sat down on my bed, messing up my comforter. “Hey. It's so good
to see you.”
I became tense. Tiffany wasn't always kind like this. What did she
want? She made my life miserable for a long time. Things are better now.
Yet, her saying it was good to see me didn't feel right. It felt wrong. But I
always wanted to be close to Tiffany, so I decided to accept her kindness for
now, even if it didn't last long.
Suddenly, she glanced out into the hallway and shut the door behind
her. "Privacy." She returned to the bed beside me. She played with a strand
of her hair. “So, what do you think about Dad’s new family?”
I thought carefully. "Leah is an acquired taste. But Sierra? She's been
really nice. She noticed how I arranged my books by color. Who does that?"
She didn't treat me like a problem child. I couldn't ask for more.
Tiffany smirked. "Did she really praise your neat freak habits?" she
teased. But her smile faded. She revealed vulnerability. “I overheard Sierra
talking to Dad about Joseph earlier. She didn’t seem thrilled.”
"Joseph means a lot. It's my birthday and I want him here."
Tiffany moved a strand of hair away from her face. "Relax. Sierra
shouldn't affect your thoughts. After all, Dad lives here too, right? And
you’re basically an adult now. You can totally invite your boyfriend over."
I chuckled. "It sounds unreal, doesn't it? Yesterday, I was a kid. Today,
I'm an adult."
Tiffany moved closer. "Growing up does that, sis," she whispered. I
watched her eyes, which seemed distant for a moment. "With age comes the
challenge of figuring people out. Like Leah."
I frowned. "Leah?”
Tiffany leaned in. "Just a few minutes alone with her was... revealing."
I frowned. "What happened?"
 She quickly looked behind her, then back at me. Downstairs, I could
hear Leah was agitated about something, and Sierra was trying to soothe
her.
"When Sierra left the room," Tiffany began, "Leah totally lost it. She
started pacing, her hands flying everywhere. She ranted about always
having to be perfect in Sierra's eyes, then veered off about some school
drama. I told her to stay on topic. Then..." Tiffany paused, her face paled.
"She just stared at me. It was creepy. She told me Sierra would be mad if I
didn’t pitch in with the chores. But it wasn’t just a friendly reminder—it felt
more like a threat." Tiffany wrapped her arms around herself. "There is
something really weird about that girl."
A chill went down my spine. Trying to steer the convo elsewhere, I
blurted, "How's everything at home with Mom?"
Tiffany seemed suddenly distant and stared into a corner of the room.
I broke the silence. "I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she forgot my
birthday."
"She didn’t forget."
Confused, I pressed on, "Then why didn't she call? Send a message?
Anything?"
She hugged her knees. "She’s just extra depressed today. Mom's... I
dunno... it's all messed up. Things have changed since you left."
I leaned forward, seeking her eyes. "Tell me."
Tiffany finally looked at me. "She's pissed, like, all the time. I think
when you left things so much worse." She looked like she was about to
burst into tears. "Sometimes, I wish I was with you. Out of there. Away
from her drama." A tear slipped out. "I've even thought about asking Dad if
I could crash here, but thinking about what she might do keeps me stuck.
That and I really don’t want to live full time with the parent who could
leave us and start a new life."
I pulled her into a big hug. "Maybe we just need a break, you know?"
A quiet knock on the door interrupted us. Glancing up, I saw Dad. His
gaze darted between us. "Joseph's outside."
Just hearing Joseph's name made my heart race. I shot Tiffany a quick
glance before rushing out of the room.
I opened the front door and threw my arms around him, our lips met.
God, I loved him. He just made my birthday a million times better.
 He softly pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear and kissed me
again. "Happy birthday, babe." He gave me a bouquet of red roses and a
metallic colored gift bag with a perfect ribbon attached. "Another year,
another rose, huh?"
I rolled my eyes at his dorky comment and kissed him again. "Thanks.
Come on in." I stepped aside. As he walked in, he made eye contact with
my dad.
"Good to see you again, Mr. Harris." I wanted to tell Joseph to shut up.
The last time he saw my dad wasn't exactly a fun memory. And now he's
trying to be all formal?
Dad just nodded. "Joseph." They shook hands, but it was kind of tense.
Awkward.
From across the room, Tiffany gave a little wave. "Hey, Joseph."
He swung his gaze towards her. "Ah, the ever-glowing Tiffany. Always
lighting up the room."
Then came in Hurricane Leah. "Oh my gosh, you're, like, THE Joseph!
Mira talks about you all the time. Mostly good stuff, but she mentioned the
whole socks-with-sandals thing. Unusual for a football jock, but I kinda
think it's cool in a quirky way! So, Joseph, what is your favorite color of
socks? Mine are blue. I asked Mira one time, and she..."
I was so grateful Sierra jumped in.
"Leah! Chill a bit, okay? Let's give our guests some room to breathe,
okay sweetie?"
Leah's feet shuffled impatiently. "I was just getting to know him!"
Sierra sucked in a breath. "Leah, why don’t you sit on the couch for a
moment, take a breather?”
"Oh my God! Why are you so touchy?" Leah rolled her eyes. She
plopped onto the couch and darted her gaze around, probably hoping
someone would take her side.
Sierra adjusted her dress and threw a glance at Joseph. "Hi. I'm Sierra.
It's so nice to meet you." She introduced herself differently this time than
when we first met. Weird.
Then, without even shaking Joseph’s hand or waiting for a response of
any kind, she quickly turned and went into the kitchen.
Rude! What was up with her today? "Well, that was something,” I
murmured. Joseph shrugged. He didn’t seem fazed.
 Tiffany turned to me with widened eyes. "Hey, you gonna open that?"
She pointed to the gift bag.
"Oh, um... yeah." I realized I was still holding the gift bag from Joseph.
I carefully set the wrapping paper and ribbon on the coffee table before
taking out a necklace. It was a blue heart-shaped pendant that sparkled. Was
it a sapphire? It came in a box from an expensive jewelry store.
Joseph leaned in. "Here, let me help you, babe." I lifted my hair as he
slipped the necklace around my neck and closed the clasp. "It looks perfect
on you,"
I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. The necklace felt
cold against my skin. I felt a million times more beautiful. "Thank you."
He gave me that cocky grin of his I loved before he turned to my father.
My gut was telling me something wasn’t right. I was totally in love
with him. But the closer we became, the more Sierra's words kept bugging
me.
Did he really love me for real?

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 ELEVEN
Mira
2006

I sat on my bed, fidgeting with a frayed thread on my blanket. I felt so

uneasy, and I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about school; I
was never any good at it. Dad hadn't brought it up in the past few months,
but with Leah going to school, and Sierra being constantly on her case for
homework, I knew she had talked to him about it. So here we were.
Dad sat across from me, breathing heavily. We were in the middle of
one of those awkward pauses. The kind that feels louder than actually
talking. That big elephant in the room.
He massaged the bridge of his nose. “I know you haven’t been going to
school. I got a call from the truancy officer. Please tell me what is going
on."
I couldn't look him in the eyes. Shame mostly. I felt like a total failure.
"I'm failing, Dad. Every class. All of 'em."
That was the truth. I could tell them I skipped every day to hang out
with Joseph, who had also dropped out. He turned eighteen a few months
ago, and just told the school he would no longer go. A few weeks ago, he
even said his mother gave up telling him to go to school. But I didn’t want
them to blame Joseph for a decision that I had been considering for most of
the year. It was pointless. All of it. Who needed school, anyway?
"Maybe I could talk to the school, and see what they can do…maybe
there’s credit recovery, night school, something like that?”
I sighed. “Don’t. Look, I received many warnings that I would fail if I
didn't improve. It’s my own fault.” I took a deep breath. “I thought I could
handle it,” I whispered before thinking of something to placate my dad.
“But yeah, I've been thinking about getting my GED. School was just not
my thing.”
His Adam's apple bobbed. “I should have supported you more. Maybe
this could've been avoided."
“Coulda, shoulda, woulda.” Dad should've done a lot of things—like
not abandoning his family for another woman. The bitter thought surprised
me, but there it was. That elephant had twins.
He lowered his head. I could see the remorse in his eyes. He was
trying, really trying. I appreciated it, but it still didn't change the fact that he
left Mom, Tiffany, and me for Sierra. No matter his reasoning or how noble
he thought his intentions were, he made a choice. And we all had to live
with it. That didn't mean I was ready to accept it. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The door opened quietly and intruded into the heavy silence between
Dad and me. Sierra walked in. Why now? Why did she have to be here now?
It wasn't her conversation, it was ours!
My heart rate quickened,
She stood with her hands on her hips and looked around the room.
Then she looked at me. "Did I walk into a family meeting?"
I met her gaze. “School stuff. No biggie.” Why couldn’t they
understand I needed space to breathe, to think?
Sierra took a seat on the bed beside me. "Your dad told me what’s up.
You're halfway through your senior year. Thinking of dropping out?" She
asked personal questions, making me feel uncomfortable. Why did Dad
share my secrets with her?
I crossed my arms defensively. "It’s not that straightforward, Sierra," I
snapped. I wanted to scream, why are you sticking your nose in? Instead I
swallowed hard. I tried to choose my words. "School is just too much. I
don't need everyone ganging up on me."
It felt like I was trapped, with no way out.
"School is hard, I get that. But education is important. You don’t want
regrets," she offered But her tone was … off. Blaming, accusing. I hated it.
I scoffed. I didn’t want unsolicited advice. I took a deep breath and
looked away. I don't need any more 'What ifs.' I just need everyone to let
me figure things out.
Dad cleared his throat. "Mira, remember what we talked about? The
GED? It's a viable option."
Sierra raised an eyebrow. "GED? Seriously, that's your advice? Why
don't you let her work? Get a job? Experience the real world?"
I hugged myself. "I know how important education is, okay? It’s just
not... for me. Not right now."
Dad leaned forward. "Darling, a GED can be a stepping stone. If
college isn't for you right now, at least this gives you a backup. How many
jobs are out there for high school dropouts? Not many!”
 Sierra leaned in, resting her chin on intertwined fingers. "Or she can
start working. There are jobs out there that don't require a degree. She's
eighteen and doesn't have a criminal record. The experience might even
help her figure out what she wants."
I nodded. "No, I'm not a criminal." Just messed up, according to my
mom. Still, the job suggestion took me by surprise. "Work? Where would I
even begin? Everywhere requires experience, and I have... none."
"Well, I might have something,” Sierra said, “but let's not rush things.
Would you be open to it?"
Dad chimed in "What are you suggesting?"
Sierra blinked. "Housekeeping. I work for a house cleaning company.
I'm the lead accountant, but I have connections. Seriously, there are loads of
clients who want someone reliable to clean their houses or offices. It's
basic, but it's a foot in the door."
I thought about that for a moment. "I can do that." Cleaning and
organizing weren't difficult. Pleasing people, that was where the struggle
came in.
Sierra shrugged. "We have each other’s backs. But you’d have to show
you can handle it."
I panicked; my mind filled with all the 'what-ifs.’ "What if I screw it
up? What if they hate me? What if?"
Sierra placed her hand over mine. "Hey. Breathe. All those 'what ifs'
won’t help. Concentrate on now. Take things one step at a time."
"Sorry, I just... get overwhelmed." Having someone reassure me that
everything would be okay was so refreshing. It was nice to be
acknowledged as a person with feelings.
"No need to apologize. Just consider the offer. And maybe sort out your
resume, hm?"
I smiled. "Sounds like a plan."
Sierra pushed herself off the bed. "I’ll talk to my manager then. Just
remember, this is only the beginning. Don’t settle for less than what you
deserve."
As she headed out, Dad got up and hugged me. "You can do this. We've
got your back."
After they left, I picked up my phone. I quickly texted Joseph: Guess
what? Sierra might've gotten me a job as a housekeeper at her workplace!
 While waiting for his response, I daydreamed. What would living with
him be like? I could see us relaxing in a cozy apartment. We would play
PlayStation and debate who cooks dinner. Man, imagining living with
Joseph was both hilarious and... kind of cute.
Joseph had behaved strangely on my recent birthday, I mean, weirder
than his usual self. Outside of that feeling, there were no more wild
clubbing nights. Lately, something had been bothering me. Whenever we
hung out in his room, I saw empty booze bottles in his bin. I thought he
only drank socially, but maybe it was a bigger issue. Should I talk to him
about it? Will he think I'm prying? My heart raced. I didn't know what to
do.
My phone suddenly vibrated. It was Joseph. Hey Mira, how about a
burger and some fries? Maybe we can drive to our favorite spot and
just...talk?
I smiled. Sounds like just what I need. Pick me up?
On my way, he texted me.
I relaxed briefly before Sierra burst through the door, full of surprises.
"Sierra! Give a girl some warning," I laughed, my heart still racing a bit
from her sudden entrance.
"Just got off the phone with my boss," she said, skipping my mock
complaint. "He's thrilled to have you. I might've mentioned you're the best
at what you do."
I blinked, taken aback. "Wow, already? I wasn't expecting to hear so
soon."
Sierra settled onto the couch next to me. "Full-time position and you'll
be working weekdays, from 9 AM to 5 PM. No weekends unless there's a
special request. But with your skills, I bet the houses will be so spotless
there won't be any need for extra days!"
I imagined myself moving through large, fancy houses. "I wasn't sure if
I'd get a full-time position, especially with hours that suit me so perfectly."
She winked. "A little nudge from yours truly. Told him about your
attention to detail. That you'd make their place shine like never."
Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I pulled Sierra into a hug. "Thank you. I
can't believe this."
She squeezed me tight. "You'll start next week. And trust me, you're
going to nail it."
 I walked outside a few minutes later. As I got closer to Joseph's car, he
quickly clicked the passenger door open for me.
I slid into the front seat, feeling the comfortable leather.
“Man, it’s freezing outside, huh?"
No hello?
"Yeah." I quickly adjusted to the warmth of the car. "But hanging with
you always feels warmer, you know?"
He smirked. "The feeling is mutual." We rode silently until I felt the
need to speak.
"I start the new job next week,” I blurted and rambled. “I never thought
Sierra would help me find a job. She's nice, but I always felt she tolerated
my presence only because of my dad. Lately, though, she's shown this
whole other side. Like, she cares, but without being all judgy. I really hope
it doesn't change."
Joseph's fingers drummed the steering wheel. "People surprise us all
the time. But since you live with her, better to get along, right?"
I thought about that. Yes, it would make living there so much better. It
was already better because Sierra was the opposite of Mom. She didn't start
arguments, and she didn't insult me at every turn. Maybe I was so used to
everyone thinking the worst of me, that when someone wanted to do
something genuine for me, my first reaction was to get defensive.
"Yeah,” I mentioned, “And I mean, getting a job will be nice. Not just
for the cash, but to have something to do. I mean, I love chilling with you,
for real. Don't get me wrong. It's just... I need something productive to fill
my day. It might help boost my confidence."
"Just think of all the freedom you'll have on top of it all."
I nodded. "Plus, now and then, I can treat you when we go out." Joseph
always footed the bill, and I wanted that to change.
Joseph chuckled. "What, you think I'm tired of being the gallant
knight? In all seriousness, I'm kind of old-fashioned. My dad was old-
fashioned, and I try to be like my old man."
I touched his thigh. "And your dad would be proud. But still, everyone
needs to be pampered every now and then too, doesn't he?"
He smirked, slowing the car as we approached a dimly lit parking lot
tucked behind a row of businesses, most of which had long closed for the
night. Only a single burger joint towards the entrance had a few cars
coming and going. But we were far from there, hidden in the darker
recesses, away from prying eyes.
Or so I thought.
"Well, you make a compelling argument." I wished I knew how he did
it, how he could talk about something so intimate and vulnerable like his
father, only to deftly change the subject, flipping it like a light switch. He
and his dad had to be close just based on the way he brought him up. He
didn’t bring up his mother the same way; he rarely even mentioned her. I
still hadn’t met her after six months of dating. It was… weird.
He gazed deep into my eyes, and suddenly, we were kissing.
The soft touch of our lips sent intense shivers down my spine. His arms
wrapped around me. It was amazing. I don’t know how long we stayed
locked like that, holding each other in such comfort.
Out of nowhere, a knock on the car window made us jump. We pulled
away quickly, cheeks flushed, hearts pounding like crazy.
Outside, a cop looked in, shining his flashlight against the glass, his
face as stoic as a statue.
My heart raced. "Oh God, what do we do?" I whispered to Joseph. I
was supposed to be starting a new job. Could I afford to be arrested, to have
a record?
Joseph put his hand on my thigh. “Take a deep breath, babe. It’ll be
fine.”
Joseph's grip on the steering wheel tightened when he saw the flashing
blue and red lights behind us. Slowly, he exhaled and rolled down the
window with deliberate grace. "Good evening, officer. Is there a problem?"
The officer looked at Joseph, then at me, and then back at him. "This
isn't a public park. It's a private lot for businesses. People can't just hang out
here."
I swallowed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "We... um,
didn't realize, officer."
Joseph quickly stepped in. “That's on me. Just needed a moment to
decompress. I'll be getting her home shortly. We're not here to cause
trouble."
The officer looked us over and smirked. "You two should know. This
isn't a good place for long goodbyes. You should leave now."
Joseph nodded. "Of course, officer. Thank you for the reminder."
 The officer went back to his car. When he couldn't hear me anymore, I
let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I still felt scared, thinking
about handcuffs and jail cells. I was glad Joseph was here.
I turned to face Joseph. "Well, that certainly added an unexpected twist
to our evening."
"Every moment with you is an adventure. Even the unexpected ones,” I
blurted. We both started to laugh. "Let's just hope our next adventure
doesn't involve evading the law." Things were looking up for me. I didn't
need any more trouble.
Joseph drove away from the parking lot. That whole scene with the
cops earlier? Man, I thought getting busted by dad in a nightclub was the
peak of my teenage drama. The buzz from that was fading, and I sank
deeper into the car seat, letting my mind wander.
Suddenly, the familiar vibration of my flip phone interrupted the
moment. Ugh, I thought, seeing the caller ID. What did Tiffany want now?
I flipped it open, and my heart stopped. Mom’s been arrested.
I gasped and my heart raced. This couldn't be a coincidence. Were the
police after our entire family? Panic gripped me, and suddenly, the cop
scene from earlier seemed a lot more disturbing. That was the last thing I
needed tonight.

OceanofPDF.com
 TWELVE
Mira
2006
Tiffany’s bombshell had my head spinning. My heart pounding like crazy.
Mom had been arrested? How? For what? My hands were shaking. Joseph
and I just dodged the cops and now this with Mom? Did I get that right? I
had to check the text again.
There it was, staring me in the face: Mom’s been arrested.
It was legit.
Joseph placed a hand on my thigh. “What’s wrong?”
“My mom…” I swallowed. “Tiffany said she’s been arrested.”
He pulled over on the side of the road. “For what?”
“I… I don’t know.” I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. “She didn’t say.
She just texted me saying she was arrested. Like, I-I…”
“Whoa, chill, Babe. Call Tiffany and let’s figure out what actually went
down before we freak out. It could just be nothing more than a big
misunderstanding. Maybe it was for a DUI or something not that serious.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.
Part of me wondered why I should even bother. It felt like my mom
couldn’t care less about me, and if I were arrested, she probably wouldn’t
even notice. But there I was, dialing Tiffany’s number.
She answered almost instantly. "Mira...Mom. They took her to jail!”
“Just tell me what’s happening.” She was freaking out, and I was doing
everything in my power to keep calm.
"She said she wasn't feeling great. Okay, whatever. But then she didn't
go to work! I saw her in her room when I left for school, and... when I got
back? She was still there. I just... I knocked a couple of times. I should've
known something was super wrong, but she mumbled that she was fine. She
wasn't fine."
There was a pause. "Okay, breathe, and then tell me what went down.
What happened?"
Her words came out in a huge tumble. "I was doing my homework
when I heard the front door slam open, and when I went out to the living
room, she just ran out of the house. Left the door standing open and
everything.” She breathed, her voice cracking. “I kept screaming 'Where are
you going?' but she didn’t say anything. I think she was drunk. Not angry-
drunk or anything more... lost, or something?” More hyperventilating.
“Tiff—”
“Through the window, I saw her get in her car and then—BAM—she
straight up backs into the neighbor's car. Major damage. And I don’t even
think she did it on purpose. It was like she genuinely didn't notice the car
behind her or was too drunk to care. She tried to drive off, but our neighbor
was NOT having it. He ran out and was getting right in her face. I saw her
get out of the car.”
“Jesus,” I whispered.
Tiffany pressed on. “I dunno all they said, but Mom could barely stand.
She was all over the place. Then, the cops showed up…” Tiffany finally
caught her breath. "You should have seen her. She was freaking out. They
had her on the ground, in cuffs, and just took her. Then a tow truck came
and took her car… Like what the fuck?"
“One sec.” I hit mute on my phone and whispered to Joseph. “You
called it. She got a DUI.”
“Tell Tiffany we’re coming to get her,” Joseph whispered back. “She
shouldn’t be left alone all night.”
I nodded and focused back on the call, unmuting it. “I’m coming to get
you, okay? Just stay where you are,” I told Tiffany.
“Okay,” she replied in a small voice.
“Everything will be okay!” I reassured her and quickly ended the call.
Joseph turned down a side street and headed to my old house, his foot
heavy on the accelerator.
Inside, I was having my own battle… trying to stay strong, to not let
the dark thoughts and self-doubt win. This was not what I needed right now.
I needed to know what was really going on with Mom. And what a mess
Tiffany was in. Seriously, my leaving couldn’t be the reason both Tiffany
and Mom’s life was going to shit.
Joseph reached over and hugged me. “You’re still upset about our run-
in with the cops. It’s understandable. But we need to get your sister. Bring
her back to your dad’s until we figure this all out.”
I agreed. But I had so many things on my mind. “I’ve been thinking a
lot lately… about how things got so messed up with Mom. All I ever
wanted was for her to love me.” I felt lost. Despite how she treated me, I
worried about her. She was my mom. “What if my leaving triggered all of
this?” I thought out loud.
“This isn’t on you,” Joseph insisted. “None of this is your fault.”
A few minutes later, we arrived at the house I used to call home.
Tiffany was sitting on the front porch, hugging her legs.
When she climbed into the car, it was obvious she’d been crying.
I turned in the front seat and looked at Tiffany. “Tiffany, you gotta tell
me what’s really happening at home.”
But she didn’t say anything. She just cried harder. I rummaged in my
purse for a tissue and passed it back to her. When she got her sobbing under
control, I tried again. “I know things haven’t been great. You shouldn’t have
to keep this all in. Whatever is going on with Mom isn’t your fault.”
Tiffany couldn’t hold it in anymore. “She just won’t stop screaming all
the time! It’s like whatever she took out on you, she's taking out on me now.
It’s always something. Now I know how you feel. She is just so angry…”
I mumbled, "Yeah, now you know how it feels."
She rolled her eyes. "You always play the victim, don’t you? Just
because Mom took her frustrations out on you doesn't mean I was having a
great time, either."
My face flushed. "That doesn’t excuse how you treated me…”
I looked over at Joseph, whose impression was stoned-faced.
She crossed her arms. "Oh, come on. We were kids. And now you left
and dumped Mom on me. How's that fair?"
I didn’t know what to say. I always wanted Tiffany to get how Mom
treated me. But now that she was going through it, I just felt sad. Pushing a
bit more, I asked, “Like, what does she even say?”
Tiffany looked down. “Like, she freaks out if I don't clean up. Calls me
lazy and stuff.” She paused, taking a deep breath, “Then she'll just start
crying. She cried because she couldn't pick an outfit. She’s lost her mind!”
Was Mom angry at Tiffany or herself? Maybe she realized just how
much I contributed to the household. That maybe my clean freak ways, as
she called them, were a good thing. “That never used to be an issue…” I
said, more to myself.
“I think she really misses you, but she’s too stubborn to say it,” Tiffany
whispered.
“I doubt it,” I whispered. “Is there anything else going on with Mom?”
 Tiffany nodded. “She keeps getting these mysterious phone calls.
Every time she has one, she gets worse. I tried to ask her about them, but
she just flips out. They're making her mood swings worse."
Mysterious phone calls? A chill ran down my spine. Could those be
connected to her behavior? And why was she so secretive about them? Was
someone threatening her, or was it something more personal?
“And today… I guess was the breaking point,” Tiffany offered softly.
“She got drunk and was going to go somewhere. She was usually a lot more
composed than that. It must have been important because she would never
drive drunk otherwise.”
Was my leaving enough to make everything fall apart? Was I the one
keeping everything stable? But the way my mom felt about me was a hard
truth I couldn’t ignore.
“I can’t believe everything would go wrong just because I’m not there
to keep it together,” I said quietly, “but she really didn’t like me… that was
real.”
Joseph pulled up to the house.
Tiffany stared at the house. “What do I tell Dad?”
“Just tell him the truth, Tiffany. He’s much more open and supportive
than Mom ever was.”
Her eyes shot daggers at me. “Seriously? He bailed on us when times
got tough, remember?”
I did remember, but we didn’t have the luxury to hold on to past
resentments given our current situation. “I know, but he’s our best shot right
now, with everything going on with Mom. He has been very supportive
since I’ve been back. Sierra, too.”
“What’s going to happen to Mom?” she whimpered.
I had no answers.
Joseph, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “She’ll probably get
bail. She could be home by tomorrow.”
“How do you know?” Tiffany gazed at him.
“I know people who’ve been through similar situations. It’s more
common than you think.”
I remained silent, wondering about Joseph’s acquaintances.
Tiffany spotted Dad standing on the front porch. “There’s Dad.”
I flashed her a weak smile. “Go in, I’ll be right in.”
She nodded and got out of the car.
 I turned to Joseph. “Thanks for helping with Tiffany. This whole thing
has gotten her, and well I, all worked up.”
Joseph reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. “It isn’t as bad
as you both think. A first-offense DUI isn’t usually serious. My mom got
one a year ago. Apart from the night of her arrest, she never spent a day in
jail. She attended some classes, paid a fine, and endured a brief driving
suspension, and then it was all resolved. Everything will be okay. Promise.”
I stared at the house and back at him. I didn’t want to get out. “I guess
we never did make it to get something to eat.”
Joseph smiled. “We had a nice make-out session.”
“It was nice while it lasted.”
I wanted to ask about his mother’s arrest, but at the same time, I had to
get it together to go inside to deal with this truth with Dad. Tiffany was
probably freaking out.
“I should go…” I sighed.
“Let me walk you to the door,” he whispered.
He was already exiting his car, coming to the passenger side to let me
out. Outside, I just threw my arms around him. “I’ll call you later.”
He kissed me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He gave me a final kiss and led me to the front door. As I opened it, he
gave a shy wave to my dad, who stood there, watching. Then, with one last
look my way, he headed back to his car.
I hesitated for a moment, taking it all in. Sierra, Leah, and Dad were in
the living room, just staring, like they were waiting for an explanation.
Leah, being her usual hyper self, was practically hopping in place, probably
dying to hit me with a million questions.
Sierra looked at Leah. "Can you give us a minute? Go check on Tiffany
or finish cleaning your room."
"But I wanna know what happened!" Leah protested, her eyes
widening.
"Now, Leah," Sierra urged.
Leah huffed. "Fine," she mumbled and stomped off in the direction of
the quiet sobs.
When she left, the room felt even more tense.
Dad's gaze was intense. "What happened? Why is Tiffany so upset?"
 Swallowing hard, I tried to find the right words. "She called me when I
was out with Joseph. She said Mom was being all weird, and then she
bolted from the house, totally wasted. She hit the neighbor's car while
backing up. The police arrested her for a DUI. That's all she shared with us.
So, we picked her up."
"You did the right thing, bringing her here,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I'll try to figure out somewhere for her to sleep tonight because she is
currently shacked up in your bedroom."
I wanted to tell him she could sleep in there and I'd just call Joseph to
come pick me up. But I said nothing.
Dad's face just... dropped. "Why didn't she tell me herself?"
I sighed, struggling to meet his gaze. "She didn't want to."
Dad looked at me, waiting for further explanation.
I sighed. "She's mad because you left us." I paced the room. "What can
you expect? I-I can't say for sure, but I think she feels like she can't trust
you. And I kinda think she blames you for all of this. Like, maybe if you’d
been around, Mom wouldn’t have gone off the rails."
His face fell, and I knew I’d hurt him, but it was the truth. I wished I
hadn't blurted it out, but I mean, facts are facts. Sure, Dad left, but I was
getting over it quicker, because despite everything, his house was the safe
house.
Dad nodded and looked at his feet. "She’s got a point. When she cools
off, I’ll try to talk to her. Fix things."

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 THIRTEEN
Mark
2006

I had to set up a makeshift cot in my office for Tiffany. The situation wasn't
ideal, but sending her back home wasn't an option. She'd secluded herself in
the office all day, only emerging briefly to update Mira about their mom
making bail. Of course, Sherry made bail. On the outside, she was perfect.
Friendly to everyone and the model of decency. But behind closed doors?
That was another story. What drove her out of the house last night, drunk
and reckless, was still hard to wrap my head around.
I hadn't spoken to Sherry since Mira moved in with me. But the news
of the DUI forced my hand. Tiffany was almost an adult, but still a minor,
and wasn't equipped to handle this. As I approached Sherry’s house, the
decay was clear everywhere. Overgrown garden, broken furniture, smeared
windows, and the scent of decay. The faint rustle inside spoke of
unwelcome creatures making themselves at home.
Swallowing my concern, I knocked at the front door. After what felt
like an eternity, a visibly tired Sherry answered, her body language
immediately tense. The strong odour of alcohol hung in the air around her.
"What do you want?"
Choosing my words carefully, I paused. Any wrong phrase and she
might shut me out. Given her recent night behind bars, I assumed she had
little patience for nonsense. "I heard about... everything. I just wanted to
check on you."
She swung the door open, revealing a living room that looked like a
landfill. Dirty clothes, shattered toys, and remnants of meals littered the
floor. I noticed some roaches darting in the corner. She looked at me, her
eyes tired. "Does it look like I'm holding up well?" She gestured bitterly to
the mess around her. "Welcome to my paradise. Thinking of turning it into a
B & B. It's the place to be.” She laughed bitterly. “What a stupid-ass
question. How do I freaking look?"
The weight of the room pressed down on me. "This isn't the you I
know." Sherry used to take pride in everything she did. She wasn't as
meticulous about cleaning as our daughter, but she at least attempted to
maintain a tidy home. She used to be beautiful and down to earth. It was
what attracted me to her in the first place. But around the time Mira started
to develop personality traits, and my mother-in-law took a strong liking to
Mira over Tiffany, Sherry changed. She became critical, mostly toward
Mira. Then our marriage changed, and I tried for a long time, even getting
to the point where I thought I was the problem.
Her red-rimmed eyes shot daggers at me. "And whose fault is that? You
think a surprise visit will fix everything? Ha! That's rich."
Navigating Sherry's emotions was akin to walking on eggshells. She
was shaken, her eloquence momentarily forsaken. It was as vulnerable as I
had ever seen her.
I suppressed a sigh. Patience was crucial. "I'm here because our
daughters are concerned. And yes, believe it or not, I still care."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, how noble of you. What's next?
Riding in on a white horse? Flaunting your ex-husband of the year medal?
Or maybe you're just here to rub it in?"
I resisted the urge to point out that she had pushed Mira away, thinking,
is pot calling the kettle black?
"Why in the hell would I gloat? Do you think I enjoy seeing you like
this? Seeing things get this bad for you?"
She scoffed, flinging a messy pile of clothes from a chair, and slumping
into it. "Oh, please! You've gotten exactly what you wanted. First Mira, now
Tiffany. "
Taking a deep breath, I fixed my gaze on her. "Let's not rewrite history
here. When Mira wanted to stay with me, you practically celebrated. You
even told me she was 'your problem now.’"
She shot up from her seat, pacing the room with manic energy. "Of
course! I bet you wove some sob story about your 'journey.' Next thing you
know, you'll be whispering to them, 'Look at your mother, the drunk.
Arrested, reckless, choosing booze over her own kids." She halted mid-
pace. "Convenient, how you're suddenly the doting father. Where was this
compassion during our marriage? When Mira and I were clashing, where
were you? Not once did you even try to see things from my way? You’ve
just succeeded in pushing her further away from me. And now, look where
we are..."
 “I made my mistakes,” I interrupted, “but the girls are my priority now.
And they should be yours, too."
The sharp edges of Sherry's voice seemed to soften, and for a moment,
her vulnerability peeked through. "Just go. You have the girls. So go." She
crumpled onto a nearby chair.
My jaw clenched. She must be kidding. The rift between her and Mira
was of her own making. "You know, Mira was asking about you. She's
concerned."
Sherry scoffed without looking at me. "Of course she was."
I rubbed my temples, tired of the constant blame game. "How hard is it
to just send Mira a text, ask how she’s doing? Maybe even offer to meet her
for lunch? For someone who's so charismatic, why is it so hard for you to
make an effort with your own daughter? You missed her birthday as well."
She smirked. "Oh sure, I’ll just stroll up to her, give her a big hug, and
pretend everything’s perfect. How in the hell does one connect with
someone who is so emotionally distant, whose mission is to embarrass you?
But you….” She changed the subject. “Congratulations! You always had a
silver tongue. But remember, actions speak louder than words."
"I’m not here to rehash old arguments. If you don't want a relationship
with Mira, that's on you. I can't and won’t be held accountable for that.
We're here for our children. Try to remember that."
I didn't come here to talk about Mira. I came here to talk about Tiffany.
Tiffany couldn't come home to live with this. I didn't know if she would
freak out again and burst into flames: figuratively, of course.
Sherry stared at me tiredly, with bloodshot eyes. "So, can we determine
I'm fine? What the hell can I do for you? Are you here to tell me you're
getting a lawyer to take Tiffany away?"
I rolled my eyes. "Let's not jump to conclusions. I'm here hoping we
can find a solution that's best for Tiffany, without letting our own issues get
in the way. "
She crossed her arms defensively. "What are you suggesting, then?
Everything's fine here. Why can't she just come back home?"
"If you truly believe everything's okay here, then please help me
understand," I said, gesturing gently to the living room. "Because from
where I stand, it seems like you might be going through a tough time. There
is mold everywhere. Garbage. And it's affecting Tiffany."
 She choked back a sob. "So now it's all because Mira left? If she was
still here, you think the house wouldn’t be like this?"
"Not everyone cleans to Mira's standards, and that's fine. But this, all of
this, isn't healthy. What I see now isn't about tidiness; it's about health. Can
you please take a moment, look around, and tell me if you think
everything's truly okay?"
Sherry glared at me. "So, Mira's settled in nicely, has she? With your
new girlfriend? Tiffany told me all about her. I've heard she's just perfect.
Quite the neat freak, isn't she? So what was it you wanted."
I averted eye contact. Why couldn't she just focus on what was in front
of her? She was so scatterbrained, so bitter and jealous, that she couldn't
admit to herself that Tiffany wasn't safe here. Once she got her act together,
Tiffany could always move back home.
"Mira's doing better, Sherry. There's peace. No shouting, no drama. It
took time for adjustments... but Sierra isn't trying to replace you. She knows
Mira only has one mother." Sherry flinched at the mention of Sierra's name.
I resisted the urge to mention how close Mira and Sierra had become, their
bond resembling that of a mother and daughter, or how Sierra had been the
one to help Mira find a job. That would be pouring salt on an open wound. I
didn’t want to hurt Sherry. I just wanted her to get some help.
Sherry clenched her fists. "Right. And this boyfriend of Mira's? Tiffany
says they're quite the item. But of course, Mira would never introduce him
to me. She... oh, forget it."
I swallowed, my Adam's apple bobbing. A heavy weight pressed on my
chest, a secret burden I carried about Joseph. "He's okay." It wasn’t just that
I disapproved of him. There was something else going on. Something I
needed to protect Mira from. But if I revealed it, I risked losing Mira as
well, and risk her running off to God forbid move in with the guy.
Sherry laughed bitterly. "Just, okay?"
I checked my watch, stalling for time, every second ticking louder than
the last. "Mira can do better. Let's stay focused." I swallowed again. My
mind screamed, urging me to spill the beans, but I remained tight-lipped.
"I'm glad you're okay. But until this place is cleaned up and you've got a
handle on your situation, I think Tiffany should stay with me for a bit. No
courts. No drama."
Sherry's face tightened. "And once I get things sorted, you'll bring
Tiffany back? You do remember how Tiffany and Mira used to be, right?"
 I nodded, trying to be supportive. "Of course. Please, take care of
yourself. Maybe reach out to Mira too? She'd appreciate knowing you're
thinking of her." I just hoped Mira and Tiffany being in a healthier
environment would make their relationship better.
"I'll text Mira. It's not that I don't care..."
I decided it was best to leave before the conversation turned heated
again. I gently closed the door behind me. A loud crash from inside made
me pause, but I reminded myself that Sherry needed her space. I was
heading back to my car when someone called my name. “Oh, hey, Mark.
Do you have a minute?”
I turned to see my former neighbor. “Hey, Bob, how are you doing?”
He wiped some sweat from his forehead, glanced at the house, and then
back to me. “Do you have a minute?”
Honestly, after the ordeal with Sherry, I had hoped for a peaceful
evening—perhaps some brandy and a chance to unwind. My rare days off
were treasured for their tranquility. The loud arguments and late-night
disturbances from our house had created a visible distance between Bob and
me. I never reached out to try and befriend him again before I finally ended
my marriage. But seeing Bob's expression, I replied, “Sure, what’s going
on?”
Bob swallowed. “I-I’m just wondering if Tiffany is all right...
Especially after yesterday.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, she’s at my house. She’s not too pleased about the
whole thing, but she's resilient.”
Bob nodded. “Seeing Sherry like that... I had no choice but to call the
police. She was trying to drive away after hitting my car. In her condition,
she could have seriously harmed someone."
Bob's compassion always stood out. Most neighbors would've been
furious about the car, but Bob's concern was for Tiffany and Sherry. Bob
had been our neighbor when Sherry and I moved here when Mira was just
an infant. Initially, we were close, but the increasing disturbances and
escalating tensions from our home caused a strain in our relationship. If
Bob felt he had no choice but to call the police on someone he considered a
friend, it must have been serious. I couldn't blame him.
But this was my opportunity to get more of the story. "From what
Tiffany shared with Mira, Sherry was quite agitated,” I proposed.
 Bob lowered his gaze. "I hope Tiffany didn’t overhear Sherry’s rant. It
was... unsettling."
If I wanted to know what really happened, I needed to push. I knew
Tiffany. She loved her mom and would do anything to protect her. I
couldn’t protect Tiffany if I didn’t know just how bad things were with
Sherry. “What did Sherry say?” I hesitated. “I’m sorry about your car… I
just... for the sake of both my girls…”
Bob waved off my apology. “It’s just a car, Mark. I have insurance. But
the wellbeing of those kids, and Sherry... that’s what really worries me. She
was completely disoriented. My friend had to call the police. She was
desperate to leave, and I tried to stop her as she staggered to her car. She
panicked seeing me approach, and in her haste, backed into my parked car. I
noticed Tiffany from the window, looking mortified. I didn't approach her
or say anything, thinking she'd want some space. Watching the police
arrive... it was hard. Sherry just kept screaming about how Mira wanted a
new mother. Then a bunch of other random things that didn’t really make
sense. But watching the police arrive... it was hard. "
I sighed. “Again, I’m sorry about your car. I hope the damage wasn’t
too severe.”
He sighed. “I’m just glad no one was hurt. After some of Sherry's
episodes, Tiffany told me she had been staying with you for the past few
months. Sherry’s not been the same since Mira moved out. There’s
something... off. I just assumed you knew.”
“What?” I licked my lips. Bob looked at me curiously, confusion on his
face. “What did you say about Tiffany?” I clarified. Besides the day I
picked up Mira to come to stay with us and Mira's birthday, I hadn't seen an
ounce of Tiffany. Where was Bob getting this from?
Bob shuffled from foot to foot. “Tiffany hasn’t been staying with you?”
The ground seemed to shift beneath me. "Few months? She's only been
with me since Sherry was arrested yesterday." Why would Tiffany claim she
was staying with me if it wasn't true? What was she hiding?
Then, suddenly, Sherry burst out of the house.
“Why are you talking to him?”
I spun to face her, but she hung back on the porch. "Sherry, for God's
sake, stay inside!" I exclaimed. "I was just leaving."
“You two talking about me?” she screamed at Bob and I. “Don’t you
think I’ve been through enough? Something could have gone terribly
wrong…”
Bob gave me an awkward wave and turned and walked back toward his
house, seemingly unfazed by Sherry's outburst. I envied his ability to
dismiss her episodes so easily.
“Sherry, you really need to go back inside,” I urged.
“Why?” She crossed her arms and stood there like a petulant teenager.
In that moment, even Tiffany was less angsty, which was sad.
I shifted uncomfortably. “You can’t keep reacting like this. If you’re
not careful, someone will call the police on you again. Bob was simply
asking if everything was okay with Tiffany. That’s all. Please, just take a
deep breath and head back inside.”
Sherry's defiant stance softened; her arms still crossed. She bit her lip,
hesitated, but then, with a sigh, made her way back into the house and
slammed the door behind her.
I headed home. I didn’t have time for Sherry’s issues. If she didn’t get
herself together, Tiffany might never return home because of the toxicity.

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 FOURTEEN
Mira

2006
Tiffany stormed past me and straight into the bathroom. Seriously? Some
things never changed.
Back at Mom’s, she’d hog the bathroom for over an hour every
morning, right after Mom had had her turn. Sometimes she’d even have up
to three showers in one day. And by the time it was my turn, no hot water.
So, I started showering at night, or super early in the morning.
Unfortunately, I had figured out how to pick the bathroom lock since it
always seemed to be locked from the inside. Odd.
“Hey! I’m in here!”
I rolled my eyes, spotting her all wrapped up in the shower curtain.
“Chill out. I’m just here to pee. This is the only decent bathroom in this
place.” There was Leah’s bathroom, but let's be real: that place was only as
clean as Sierra forced it to be. Leah, and sometimes even Dad, would use
her disaster of a bathroom when the main and master ones were taken,
which, since I moved in, was like, all the time. And since Tiffany had been
staying with us for the past few days, sleeping in Dad’s office, of all places,
the bathroom schedule had become even more chaotic.
"Is it too much to ask for some privacy around here?” Tiffany whined
over the din of the running water. I guess you're okay, but Leah? She has
zero boundaries. Always barging in and talking non-stop…and seriously,
sleeping in Dad’s office? Like I'm an afterthought or something. I want to
go back to Mom's.
She poked her head out from the shower curtain and lowered her gaze.
"I tried to call Mom to see if she could come get me, but she said to talk to
Dad. He says Mom’s got stuff to deal with. Yeah, Mom made a mistake, but
Dad? He left us. How is he any better? Why can't I go home? I want my
bed. My bathroom..."
I reached over to comfort her. "I'm sure it'll happen soon."
I was certain that Mom wouldn't keep Tiffany away for too long. Either
she'd move past whatever was troubling her, and Tiffany would return
home, or Tiffany would just take matters into her own hands. A displeased
Tiffany was always a force to reckon with. Mom and she thrived on their
shared drama. I could empathize, though. While I didn’t regret leaving
Mom’s place, I missed my old room. I hoped, with time, whatever issue
Mom was grappling with might make her want to have a relationship some
day.
There was a knock on the door. "Mira, are you in there?" It was Leah.
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "See?" she hissed.
I got her. "Yeah, I'll be right out."
"Okay, but like, hurry! I gotta show you what Mom's making for
supper. Mira, it's these HUGE potatoes she got from the greenhouse! And
she made me go, like, five whole blocks on my bike just to get the carrots.
For stew! Remember when you had it last time? So yum, right? Even
Tiffany would totally love it, and she's sooo picky. I mean, who doesn't like
stew?"
I took a deep breath. "I’m using the bathroom, Leah. I'll be right out. It
sounds good."
"Okay, okay sorry. But you know I watch the cooking..."
"I think I hear your mom calling."
"Okay, but hurry." Leah stomped down the hallway.
"Seriously, how do you do it with her?” Tiffany whined. “She’s like a
walking, talking tornado."
Tiffany turned the shower back on, and I left the bathroom. Leah was
still standing right in the hallway.
"I didn't hear my mother. Were you trying to get rid of me? I bet it was
Tiffany. She seems to be kind of bitch. Oops... please don't tell anyone I
said that. Mom is sooo against us using those words. She's all about being
'ladylike' and blah blah. She's all, 'In my day, we were poised and all.' I
mean, no offence, your sis can be a tad snippy. I overheard her telling
Mark–oh, he’s your dad, right? Or stepdad? Whatever. Anyhow, she was all
like 'I miss the days when it was just me and Mom.’ She totally called you a
clean freak! Like, rude, huh? I mean, sure, you like things neat, which is
great for me, but seriously, you're the best! And I totally love having you
here. You're like the sweetest. Never judgy. Not a meanie. But your sis?
Ugh. Sometimes she acts like she's too good..."
I put my hand on her shoulder. "I honestly was just using the bathroom.
So why don't you show me what's for supper?"
 I had gotten used to her nonstop chatter. She knew that my bedroom
was my safe space, so things were better. She was just someone like me
who had been misunderstood. For so long, someone had always labeled me
as the "odd one." I had a routine, liked things in order, and was more
comfortable in my own world. Not that I didn't want to connect with others;
I simply didn't know how.
I had been called obsessive, a freak, and a loner. I knew how it felt to
be misunderstood and judged on surface-level impressions without anyone
taking the time to really get to know the person beneath. I had misjudged
Leah at first, but after I really reflected on things, I realized that Leah wasn't
all that bad.
In the kitchen, sitting in an orderly fashion. were all the ingredients.
The diced, precooked potatoes, the carrots and the celery were in separate
bowls in a row on the counter. The spices were mixed in another small glass
bowl. The cooked meat chunks were cubed in yet another bowl. I too liked
to prep everything before I started. It made things go easier and clean up
much smoother. I approved how Sierra precooked everything before
assembling it in a line. It was a unique way to make stew.
Sierra walked into the kitchen behind me. “I see Leah was all excited
about supper again.”
Leah stood between us, her hands on her hips. “What can I say? Stew is
super delicious. Like you, Mira. You work all day at your new job and don’t
you like coming home to eat cooked meals? So how was your what was it,
third, or fourth day on the job? Or maybe it was one day. Cleaning people’s
houses? I wish I could get paid for cleaning. Cleaning is sooo boring, but I
bet getting good money is worth it. What are you going to buy first? New
clothes? Or maybe candy. Lots and lots of candy. I would…”
“Leah, that’s enough,” Sierra interjected.
Leah took a deep breath. “I was just asking a question…”
Sierra began combining the cooked ingredients with the thickening
gravy in the crock pot on the counter. “You need to give others a chance to
respond to your barrage of questions.”
Leah looked away, then at me. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Mom. But
seriously, Mira, how's the new job?”
My new job had been fantastic. Cleaning houses wasn’t easy,
especially after an entire day of doing it, but it was the most rewarding nine
bucks an hour I’d ever earned. The soreness in my muscles was real, but so
was the satisfaction that made all the difference. “It's been good.”
The last three shifts were incredibly rewarding. Cleaning for that
elderly couple, especially their upstairs office and guest bedroom, felt oddly
therapeutic. Wiping away the layers of dust and making things fresh and
clean gave me a sense of accomplishment. They even praised my work to
my supervisor, which felt great. But then, the bar was set high if you
wanted to be a successful housekeeper.
As for the money, my initial plan was to save up, move in with Joseph,
and escape this house. But lately, the idea of treating myself to something
nice had been tempting.
“Honestly, the best part about it, though, is that I actually feel like I’m
doing something very worthwhile.”
“And the money?” Leah said. “That’s be my favorite part.”
I smiled, although my feet ached from standing all day. “The money is
a bonus.”
“What are you going to do with your first paycheck?”
I stood there for a moment, rubbing my tired eyes. “I’m not too sure.”
With Tiffany's antics earlier, the idea of saving up and moving out seemed
even more tempting. But a small part of me, maybe the exhausted part, just
wanted a small break from everything.
I suspected Dad and Sierra might expect me to contribute now. I knew
Joseph did his part at his place.
Sierra interjected. “Mira should enjoy it for herself. Maybe she’ll buy
some new clothes. Or maybe save up for a car. Who knows? It's all about
discovering what's out there.”
I’d have a few months to splurge before I’d have to become
responsible.
Tiffany strolled into the kitchen, walking right past the three of us
standing there, opened the fridge, and grabbed a soda. Sierra had to reach
around her to shut the fridge door that Tiffany had left hanging wide open.
Leah leaned against the kitchen counter and exchanged a look with her
mother. “We are eating soon. We usually don’t have soda before supper. It's,
like, a rule."
Tiffany took a slow sip of the soda. "Oh, I must've missed the memo.
But thanks for looking out for my well-being." She just spun around and
tried to leave, acting like nothing happened.
 "Why are you so rude all the time?" Leah called after her.
"Leah!" Sierra scolded her.
"It's true. She is rude,” Leah whined to Sierra. “She hogs all the hot
water, slams every door, and cranks up her music the second you try to talk
to her. She didn’t even bother to shut the fridge or even ask for one of my
sodas!"
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "I just wanted a drink. Like, why's it such a big
deal? Can I go, or are you going to lecture me on something else?"
Sierra inhaled a deep breath. "It's okay, sorry, I know it's an adjustment
and..."
Tiffany waved her off like she was some annoying fly. "Whatever. It's
all good." With that, she flounced out of the room.
I put my hand on Leah's shoulder. "She just misses home," I said to
assure her. I glanced at Sierra, wondering why she seemed so reserved,
especially given Tiffany’s open defiance. It was like she was walking on
eggshells I felt bad for her.
Sierra was stirring the stew with one hand and wiping the counter with
her other. "Give her some time. But why don't you two go get washed up to
eat?”
Leah jumped up and ran out of the room. I grabbed some plates from
the cupboard to set the table. Sierra said nothing as she stirred the food. I
wanted to say something. I wanted to defend Tiffany's behavior and make
them understand that she was having a hard time. It was clear she didn’t
feel comfortable here.
“Thanks for helping smooth the tension,” Sierra said, bringing a
steaming pot of stew to the table. “I know Tiffany is having a hard time
with everything going on with your mom. But how are you holding up?”
I shrugged and uttered, “I’m fine. Honestly, I don’t really think about
it.”
Well, that wasn’t the total truth. I thought about it a lot. I thought about
my mom more than she probably deserved.
From upstairs, Dad’s office door banged shut. “Would you just leave
me alone!” Tiffany's voice boomed. Sierra bolted from the room, and I
turned my head around the corner of the stairs.
“Like stop following me everywhere I go!” Tiffany screamed again.
I headed up the stairs. What was going on with Tiffany? Was Leah
bothering her again?
 “I just wanted to tell you it was time to eat…” came Leah’s meek
response.
Leah was standing outside Dad’s office, almost corning Tiffany, who
was posing with her hands on her hips. Sierra was next to my room door,
trying to calm them both down.
“A-and to talk…” Tiffany looked our way. “Ugh, whatever. Just back
off. Don't bug me all the time. If I’m starving, I’ll get food. Or Sierra or my
sis, or even Dad can just text me. She turned and went back into Dad’s
office.
Leah turned and looked at Sierra, about to burst into tears. “I just
wanted to let her know…”
Sierra, her patience clearly wearing thin, said, "It's okay, Leah. You
tried." She gave the empty doorway a dirty look and added, “Come on, let’s
eat.” Leah rushed past me at the kitchen entrance and just kinda slumped in
her seat.
“I don’t like her,” Leah whined, arms crossed.
I bit my lip. That makes two of us, but was this how I had treated
Tiffany in the past? Was I this annoying, too?
Leah looked up at me. “You don’t need to tell me that she is adjusting.
She just doesn’t like me, for whatever reason. I did nothing to her. I just
washed my hands. I thought maybe she was hungry, and we got off on the
wrong foot. So, I knocked on the door politely. Just like I do for you. She
ignored me. So, I knocked again…a little louder. When her music started
blasting, I cracked the door open. I mean, I get the whole privacy thing, but
all I said was dinner's on, then shut the door. She came out all mad. Like,
why does she hate me?” Tears were forming in Leah’s eyes again.
I glanced at Sierra, half expecting her to say something, anything. Why
wasn’t she calling Tiffany out or at least comforting Leah? It was strange to
see Sierra just sit there, especially when Leah was clearly hurt.
“Maybe it’s best to ignore her,” I offered. I didn’t have better advice for
her. Tiffany didn’t like her. Like every time they were near each other, you
could feel the tension. Leah was just too nice to get it and couldn’t see that
Tiffany wasn’t approachable.
“Is she going to join us?”
Sierra shook her head. We ate in silence. What else was there to do?

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 FIFTEEN
Mira
2006
I shifted my bag on my shoulder, looking around for Joseph.
The housekeeper waved from her car as I stepped onto the office curb,
murmuring a quick, "Later."
Gosh, what a week. It had been, like, ages since I last saw Joseph;
okay, maybe a week, but it felt longer. I ran my fingers over the charm
bracelet he'd given me for our sixth-month anniversary a few months ago.
He was always celebrating. I checked out our last text exchange. The words
felt so different compared to hearing his voice. So, when I received his
message this morning, it totally psyched me up. I recalled his message: I
want to pick you up and hang out. Really miss you.
Suddenly, a car honked, and I spotted Joseph. A smile lit my face. I
knew.
I walked up, and he was already out of the car, pulling me into one of
those bear hugs. "Missed you," Joseph whispered close, his breath warm on
my ear.
I giggled, feeling all fuzzy inside. “Missed you more.”
“How was your first week?”
I shrugged, flipping a strand of hair behind my ear. “Crazy. Kinda
intense, but cool. They all are so nice, and a few even offered to grab
lunch…”
He grinned. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”
“Thanks.” Man, I loved this guy. He always knew just the right thing to
say.
He winked and opened the door for me. “Ready to celebrate your wild
first week?”
As we started driving, something felt off. His hands clenched the
steering wheel, his jaw was tight, and his eyes seemed lost in thought.
Definitely not the usual laid-back Joseph. He said he wanted to hang out,
right? I just hoped everything was cool.
 I addressed it before it got worse. “Hey. Is everything cool? You seem
kinda distant."
He chuckled weakly, although there wasn’t much humor in it. “Maybe
I’m just feeling out of it.”
I rolled my eyes. "C'mon, Joseph. Talk to me. What's going on?”
He sighed. "I've been under a lot of pressure lately. I wanted today to
be about us, not my issues."
I thought for a moment, wanting to comfort him. “How about we grab
some pizza, head back to your place, and watch a movie? We can just relax.
Or talk if you want."
His face lit up a bit, and he leaned over to kiss me at a stoplight.
“Sounds perfect.”
Joseph's grip tightened on the steering wheel, and suddenly, with a
swift motion, he jerked the car hard to the left. The tires screeched in
protest; our world was momentarily reduced to the sound of rubber scraping
on asphalt. He had run a red light.
My heart leapt into my throat. "Joseph!" I held onto the door handle for
dear life. “What is going on?”
His car darted across the road, narrowly missing the front of a truck by
mere inches. The screech of brakes echoed in my ears, and Joseph blew past
another glaring red stop sign. My breath caught in my throat. The furious
driver from the earlier truck he had nearly collided with followed Joseph
down the street. He leaned out his window, his face turning beet red as he
shouted, "Are you insane? Learn to drive, punk!"
Joseph didn’t hold back, firing off a string of expletives, his voice now
raw. My mind raced to the last time we were together: the flashing lights of
a police car and the stern look of an officer. I thought of Mom and her
recent arrest for drunk driving.
“Pull over now, Joseph!” My scream sliced through the chaos. When he
accelerated instead, my terror intensified. "STOP! I want to get out!
Remember the cops last time? Do you want that again?”
A tense moment later, he slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a
screeching halt in a deserted lot. Silence filled the space between us,
punctuated only by our ragged breaths.
I turned to him. "What the hell? Why? Just...why? You could’ve killed
us! Or worse, someone else!”
He laid his head on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry…"
 I reached out, touching his arm. He flinched. "Whatever it is, you can
tell me. But please never drive like that again. You’re scaring me.”
He nodded slowly. "Yeah.”
"Talk to me… the way you're driving...” A thought crossed my mind,
and I wished it wouldn’t have. “Have you been drinking?"
He looked taken aback. “I'm not drunk.”
I squinted at him. “Promise me, Joseph. If you’ve had even a sip, I’m
outta here. I’ll walk home if I have to.”
His eyes widened. “Mira, please don’t. I swear, I haven’t had anything.
It's just...today. It's always this damn day.” He took a deep breath. “I was
okay when I came to pick you up… then I just saw something that made me
feel really mad. Helpless even…”
After a deep sigh, he muttered, "It's been six years."
I frowned at him. “Six years for what?”
He took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel. “Six years since my
dad died. I thought, you know, with time it’d get easier, but it just doesn’t.
If anything, I just get angrier. Every year, it's like I'm living that day all over
again.”
I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what
to say because my dad was alive and well, and he had lost his.
He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just so pissed, babe. At Dad for
leaving…at everyone who still has a dad. Heck, even at those doctors who
just...couldn't help him. I hate that you saw me lose control. I'm sorry,
okay?"
I swallowed hard. "How did he die?"
Joseph's eyes hardened. "I don't want to talk about it."
I didn't push any further. "Okay, we don’t have to."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. "I should take you
home. It's not right for you to see me like this."
I put my hand on his thigh. "You shouldn't be on your own either. I'm
here, okay? We can talk or not. Just...let me be here for you."
He leaned over and kissed me briefly. "Thanks."
Joseph took a few moments to get himself together before driving out of the
parking lot. The rest of the ride to his house was quiet. His house was
cluttered with unfolded clothing piled on the couch and dishes exploding
out of the kitchen sink.
 Joseph looked ashamed. "Sorry about the mess. I meant to tidy up
before you came over, but..."
I picked up a few things as we got further into the house. “It’s okay.” I
didn't expect him to deep clean his house for me on a normal day, never
mind on the anniversary of his father's passing. “You’ve had a lot on your
mind.”
He picked up a few stacks of magazines that had tumbled to the floor.
“Mom’s out. She takes off around this time of year, too. It's hard for her
too.”
I nodded. “I can’t even imagine.” It seemed like his mother had a hard
time dealing in general. I still hadn't met her, and I wondered if it was the
same reason, I hadn't introduced Joseph to my own mother. Were we afraid
or embarrassed or both of our mothers?
There was a pause, then Joseph practically lifted me off the ground in a
hug from behind. "So, tell me about your first week. Anything memorable?"
I brightened, glad to be changing the subject. “You wouldn’t believe
this teenage boy’s room I had to clean. It looked like a bomb went off, with
clothes everywhere, old pizza crusts under the bed, and posters barely
hanging on. And the smell? Ugh! But somehow, I got it looking and
smelling like one of those rooms in home magazines.”
Joseph laughed. “Sounds like my room when I was his age.”
“I hope not! But his mom was so grateful that she even gave me a tip.
My first tip ever!”
“That’s awesome, Mira. I’m gonna be so jealous when you get your
first paycheck. Also, how’s things at home?”
I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, Tiffany."
"What's her deal?"
"She's just being a pain. I get she doesn’t wanna live with Dad. But she
can't be with Mom right now, either.”
“You said your dad checked out her place?”
"Yeah, and I heard him tell Sierra it was so bad that it was a health
hazard. If it was as bad as he said, I'd probably have a heart attack."
Joseph frowned. “So, what has she been doing? It seriously can't be
that bad. A clean house, a mother who isn't getting mad...”
I shrugged. "She’s not a fan of our stepsister, Leah. Leah can be
intense, but she's not terrible. Tiffany's just rude to her for no reason.” I
paused, taking a breath. “And she’s weird about Sierra trying to be all
friendly with her.”
“I mean...”
“No,” I cut him off. “It's not like that. Sierra is super supportive. But
Tiffany’s super close with Mom. Dad said it’s almost too close. The actual
issue? She just wants what she can't have right now."
He nodded. “I hope things get better with your mom so Tiffany can go
back. It's tough when the parent you’re closest to isn't around or…”
I saw the look in his eyes. He was thinking about his dad again. “He'd
be so proud of you,” I whispered.
Joseph sighed. “Dad had issues with alcohol. He was the best dad, but
he couldn’t quit drinking. He wasn’t mean or anything when he drank, but it
was a problem. When it started messing with his health, he still didn’t stop.
Mom tried everything. I didn’t realize how bad it was until...it was too late.
I guess I kinda get Tiffany…”
I bit my lip, suddenly struck by the parallel between our lives. "Joseph,
is that why you drink? Because of your dad?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe in the beginning. But I've been
trying to cut back. It's hard, though.”
“And your mom? Is she…” I hesitated, not sure how to word it,
“okay?”
He shrugged. “She copes…in her own way.”
I hugged him. I just wished I knew how to help him. It sucked because
I was still trying to figure out my own stuff with my mom, and she was
alive and all. I really didn’t know what to say when Joseph was dealing
with this whole other level of hurt, with no real resolution.

OceanofPDF.com
 SIXTEEN
Mark
2006
I leaned against the counter, nursing a hot mug of coffee. Sierra was at the
stove, flipping pancakes. I loved Sierra's cooking. Watching was always
mesmerizing. She was a natural talent.
Sierra cleared her throat, momentarily pausing cooking. "I've been
contemplating something. Perhaps Tiffany and I could spend a day
together? At a spa, perhaps? I believe it would be beneficial for both of us.
Particularly for her to see me as a positive influence in her life."
"Sure, why not? Tiffany's been quite tense lately. Ever since her arrival,
she's been like a different person, often retreating to her room. Her recent
outburst at Leah made me even more concerned. I can't help but think some
of that might be due to Sherry's influence on our daughter."
Sierra smiled. "I just hope she’s receptive. Listen, I've been a teenager.
I remember how it feels. When I was her age, just a little bit of
understanding from someone who genuinely cared changed everything for
me. Whatever her past and her relationship with her mother, I'm here now.
I'm not trying to take her mother's place, but she will know where I stand."
She paused as she left the kitchen and minutes later returned.
Moments later, Tiffany appeared in the kitchen doorway. "What's going
on?"
Sierra took a step toward her. "How about a spa day, just you and me?
We could go downtown, get our nails done, maybe a massage, and
just...chat?"
Tiffany bit her lower lip. "I have plans. And for the record, those were
things Mom, and I did."
Sierra's shoulders stiffened, and she cleared her throat, her words
coming out measured and cool. "I see. The offer remains open, should you
change your mind?"
I watched Tiffany’s conflicted face and felt a tug in my heart. I needed
her to give this a chance. "Tiff," I pointed to outside. She hesitated for a
moment, then followed.
 "Everything going on with your mom…it's a lot. She loves you so
much, you know that. And Sierra? She's not trying to replace her. She
just...wants a chance with you."
Why? So, she can play happy families? I never asked for any of this!"
She started toying aggressively with a loose thread on her sweater. "I hate it
here. Why can't things just be normal again?"
I placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm asking, can you try? Just this
once? For me? Sierra's trying, really. Maybe you could see it as...I don’t
know, something different to do."
She sighed. "Ugh. Fine. But only because you're begging…and don’t
think I’m doing this for her. Happy now?"
I smiled. "Thanks, Tiff. It means a lot."
We headed to the kitchen, where delicious pancakes awaited us. Tiffany
smiled. "Okay, spa day it is. But first, how about some breakfast?"
The two of them made small talk. It was clear that Tiffany was trying to
make the best of the situation. After they finished eating, they collected
their bags and headed to the front door.
"Later, Dad."
I waved them off, hoping the spa day would do wonders for their
moods. I spent the next few hours distracting myself. I tried reading, tidied
up a bit, and even caught up on some work. But my thoughts kept drifting
to Sierra and Tiffany. Knowing Tiffany as I did, I recognized her attempt to
keep her spirits high for Sierra's sake, but I also knew that she wore her
heart on her sleeve. I pondered how their day was going, hoping they'd both
return in better spirits.
When evening approached, I decided to prepare some tea and ordered
takeout, thinking it might be a comforting gesture when they return. The
soft whistle of the kettle barely had time to sound when I heard the front
door click.
Sierra and Tiffany walked in. Just one glance and I could tell. Sierra
wore a smile that didn't reach her eyes while Tiffany sulked. Hoping to cut
through the tension, I chirped, "How about a family movie night after
dinner? I've ordered Chinese takeout."
Before Sierra or Tiffany could reply, Leah burst into the room, her hair
bouncing with every step. "Really? Chinese AND a movie? That's fantastic!
Oh, and guess what? I saw this super cool ice cream place today. Can we
get some after dinner? Pretty please?" She paused, tilting her head to the
side, and studied Tiffany with a piercing gaze. "Oh, Tiffany, are you going
to love the movie I picked out? It has a lead character just like you... " She
let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Tiffany's face.
Tiffany mustered a quick, forced smile. “Can’t wait.”
Leah continued. "I thought you'd like it. And oh, look at those nails!"
Leah reached out and captured Tiffany's hand, drawing attention to her red
nails. "So bold and cool. Someone once said that red nails mean you’re
super brave or have a secret. Which one are you?" She squeezed Tiffany's
hand, her eyes locking onto Tiffany's for a moment.
Tiffany let out a sigh. "They're just nails, Leah."
"Of course. Oh! That reminds me, I heard about this new spa. Mira and
I were raving about it; we should all go. You'd love their skin treatments,
Tiff. Although, they might advise against red." She let out a soft giggle,
seemingly at her own joke.
Tiffany’s fingers drummed on the table. "Sure, Leah. Sounds…great."
Leah's eyes darted around, then lit up. "Oh! Speaking of Mira, where is
she tonight?"
Sierra interjected before Leah could go on another tangent. "She's out
with her boyfriend, sweetie."
Tiffany, perhaps searching for an escape, pulled out her phone, rapidly
scrolling through her notifications. I caught Sierra's eye, wondering if she'd
intervene.
Taking the cue, I sighed. "Tiffany, could you put away your phone
during dinner?"
She hesitated, shot me a look, but then put the phone down. We
continued eating in silence, but after a few minutes, Tiffany pushed back
from the table. “I don’t feel too good. I think I’m going to lie down.”
She left the kitchen abruptly, not waiting for a response. Her half-eaten
food sat cold on the plate. I stood up, the weight of the tense atmosphere
pushing on my shoulders. "I'm going to go talk to Tiffany," I whispered to
Sierra.
She nodded. "I thought we had an okay time."
I left to check on Tiffany and paused in front of her door. The emo
strains of My Chemical Romance were blasting loudly through her door.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked.
"What do you want?" her tone was curt.
"It's just me, Tiff. Mind if I come in for a moment?"
 There was a heavy sigh on the other side before the music was abruptly
silenced. "Come in," she offered.
I entered to find the room dim the curtains drawn tight. A photograph
of Sherry, Tiffany, Mira, and I sat on the end table beside the camp-style
cot. I'm not sure how Sierra would feel if she saw it, but I knew Tiffany
would freak out if I told her to put it away. Tiffany lay sprawled on her bed,
phone in hand, eyes red-rimmed. Probably from crying or maybe too much
eyeliner, hard to tell these days. I took a seat on the edge, maintaining a
respectful distance.
"So," I began cautiously, "how was the spa day with Sierra?"
She rolled her eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the phone. "It was fine."
"Just fine?"
She didn't meet my gaze. "Look, Dad, it felt forced, all right? Sierra
tried way too hard to control things. I know she means well, but it felt
weird. You want us to bond, but today was just...awkward. It wasn't bad,
just...accept it."
"Hey, how about we try to salvage the evening? Maybe watch one of
those DVDs you like? You can even pick the movie. Napoleon Dynamite,
perhaps?"
She hesitated, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the edge of her shirt.
"I just...I can't tonight."
I frowned. "Why's that?"
She took a deep breath, her gaze flitting around the room, avoiding
mine. "Honestly? Leah is so freaking annoying. She's always talking, like,
she won't shut up! And she's nosy too, barging in whenever she feels like it.
I can't relax around her. I don't know how Mira can stand her."
I remembered a recent dinner where Leah had chattered non-stop, each
word feeling like a pinprick. Shaking off the memory, I replied, "I see."
Tiffany exhaled a breath. "Can you just tell them I'm not feeling well?"
I nodded. "Of course."
"Thanks, Dad."
I quietly left the room, leaving Tiffany alone, and returned to the
kitchen. Leah and Sierra stared as I sat down at the table.
"When is Tiffany coming out to watch the movie?"
I sighed, running a hand through my graying hair. "Tiffany's tired. She's
going to call it an early night."
Leah frowned. "I bet she is. But I'm not surprised."
 Sierra set her cup down. "What do you mean by that, Leah?"
Leah blurted out, "Come on, it's clear as day. She's constantly whining
and breaking rules. I’ve heard her on the phone, gossiping about how this
place is sooo beneath her. Always looking for a sob story to tell. She really
can't stand being with us, can she?"
Sierra smiled. "She's settling in, honey. Shifting homes isn’t a walk in
the park. And hey, learning to be responsible now will do her good. A lesson
you could use too, kiddo."
Leah wasn't convinced. "She keeps saying she wants to go back home.
Maybe we should just let her?"
I was stuck on what to do. I knew Tiffany wanted to go home. She
missed her mom. She missed her bed. And frankly, she probably missed
being able to do whatever she wants, when she wants. I felt stuck, wanting
the best for both my daughters, not quite knowing how to achieve it.
"Leah, go wash up."
Leah, surprisingly obeyed, bouncing away.
Sierra reached out, placing her hand over mine. "Give her time, Mark.
Back when I was a kid, I had a friend who was just like Tiffany. A firm
hand from her parents set her straight. She ended up just fine because they
didn't let her walk all over them. You're always so kind-hearted and trusting,
which is wonderful. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder if Tiffany might
be taking advantage of that, just a little?"
I sighed, remembering the awful smell and rodents swarming Sierra’s
house. "I just hope Sherry gets her act together soon. The longer Tiffany is
forced to stay here, the more I'm afraid our relationship will deteriorate."
She interrupted: "Listen, Mark, teenagers test limits, and right now,
Tiffany is testing yours. I've seen it happen. I get you are feeling guilty for
not being there for her this past year. Let her see that you’re the more stable
parent. Stability breeds well-adjusted adults."
I just want to make sure that I'm on the right track. The clock's ticking,
and I can't help but worry.

OceanofPDF.com
 SEVENTEEN
Mira
2006
The night was cool as Joseph's car pulled up to the house. Although the past
days were full of highs and lows, tonight, my phone buzzed incessantly.
Tiffany, probably. As Joseph leaned in for a kiss, the memory of his driving
made me flinch.
"Do you need me to walk you in?" he asked.
Torn, I replied, "I'll be fine. Just take care of yourself, okay?" His
impulsive nature was becoming more evident each day.
He held my gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Sleep well. I love you."
"I love you too," I stammered, my voice wavering. Stepping out, my
mind juggled thoughts of Joseph's recent actions and Tiffany's persistent
calls.
Joseph had a side I couldn't ignore, and he needed to address it. Tiffany,
despite our painful past, might reach out for reconciliation. A part of me
wanted to believe in that possibility. It was quiet inside. Too quiet. Leah's
usual noise was absent. Drawn by the glow of the kitchen light, I ventured
further in, hoping the night held no more surprises.
Tiffany was at the counter, gripping a spoon like she was about to have
a meltdown. She didn’t even see me.
I cleared my throat. "Tiffany!"
She turned quickly as if she was about to jump on me, but her face
softened. "Oh, hey Mira."
"What's wrong?"
Tiffany's face turned a shade of crimson. "Leah, that little witch, did it
again."
I surveyed the kitchen, searching for signs of disorder or disruption.
Everything appeared normal. "Who? What did she do?"
"She just...ugh!" Tiffany groaned. "She knows exactly how to get under
my skin! You remember how I used to think you were annoying, Mira?
God, I regret thinking that now. Because Leah? She's practically carved out
her own league in the annoying hall of fame."
 I leaned against the counter, letting Tiffany vent. My history with her
was complex. At times, we were almost like sisters, sharing secrets and
inside jokes. But the vast majority of our shared memories were tainted by
her treating me like an outsider. Influenced by Mom's own biases, Tiffany
often found me too quirky and odd.
That sense of alienation from my own family eventually pushed me
away. I often wondered how things might have been different if Tiffany
hadn’t been so cruel. If we were still together at Mom's, I'd have been the
one keeping everything tidy. She wouldn't have had to deal with Leah, and
Leah isn’t even that bad. Tiffany just loves drama.
"So, what exactly did she do?"
"She's always doing this, Mira! Little things! Like, who moves
someone's shoes for fun? When I'm practically tearing the house apart
looking for them, she just watches, her face the picture of innocence. Only
when I was about to freak out, did she tell me where they were? And the
bathroom thing? She always knocks when I'm in there. Like, is she dumb or
just trying to piss me off?"
I couldn’t help but see the irony. Tiffany's complaints reminded me of
the countless times she had played tricks on me or made a fuss about trivial
things. Maybe Leah was doing it for the reaction, or perhaps she genuinely
needed to use the bathroom and had a bad sense of timing. Tiffany had a
flair for the dramatic, that was for sure.
"Have you tried asking her, y'know, nicely, to stop?" I asked,
emphasizing “nicely”. I knew Tiffany all too well, and “nice” wasn't really
in her repertoire. It was almost gratifying to see her get a taste of her own
medicine.
"She doesn't get it. She's just.. I don't know, clueless?"
I understood where Tiffany was coming from. Maybe she was just
blowing off steam, like I used to when I felt out of place or cornered. But
Leah lived here too, and Dad always said she's been this bubbly, all-over-
the-place person. We just got used to it. Leah was younger and had her own
way of seeking attention or asserting herself.
Just then, Leah walked into the kitchen. But when she tried to squeeze
past Tiffany to reach the sink, she barely brushed against her. Honestly, it
was no big deal. But today? Tiffany wasn't having it.
"Watch where you're going!" Tiffany snapped, pulling away as if
Leah's touch burned her. "And stop eavesdropping on our conversations!"
 Leah's eyes widened, her lips quivering. "I just wanted some water."
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Of course, you did. You just had to sneak in
here and be annoying, huh? And now that Mira is here, playing your little
sidekick, you start acting the victim, don't you? Looking for sympathy?"
I watched Leah, her eyes brimming with tears, feeling that all too
familiar twist in my gut. But before I could even think of what to say, with
one last ice-cold glare at Leah, Tiffany purposely bumped into her.
"Ow!" Leah exclaimed before she ran out of the room.
"And don't come back," Tiffany muttered.
I let out a sigh. "Tiffany, she's just being Leah. Don't you think you're
overreacting? If you ignore her, she might stop. Otherwise, we might just
need to adapt."
Tiffany scowled. "You're always defending her."
"I just don't want the drama. And it's easier to ignore and show
compassion than it is to react. Plus, she was here first."
Before we could dive deeper, Sierra walked in, looking like she could
use a break from all the tension. "Hey," she smiled slyly. "Was thinking of
making some brownies. Baking always takes my mind off things...we wish
to forget." How 'bout it, Tiffany? You too Mira?"
Before either of us could respond, Leah ran back into the room. "Oh,
can I help? I'd love to bake!"
Sierra hesitated for a split second, her smile wan. "Sure, sweetie. Why
not?" But how could she say no to Leah, her own daughter?
Tiffany's eyes darkened. "No, I'm not in the mood." Without another
word, she left the room.
Sierra slumped her shoulders. "I just don’t know what I'm doing
wrong."
"I'm going to go wash up to bake. "Leah ran out of the room."
Sierra seemed relieved when she left the room. Seeing how much she
was trying, I thought maybe she was just trying too hard for someone who
wasn't appreciating it.
"It's not you, I promise. That's just Tiffany for you. When she's going
through stuff, she shuts people out and gets snappy," I said to reassure
Sierra.
Sierra gave a knowing smile, locking eyes with me. "You understand,
right, Mira? You've seen how hard it is to adjust. I just wish Tiffany would
understand, too."
 I was taken aback, but before I could reply, we heard screaming. It was
Leah's voice, full of panic, followed by Tiffany's shout. My heart skipped a
beat. Sierra and I shot each other a look, and in seconds we were on our
feet, running toward the noise.
When we got there, Leah was a mess, tears everywhere. Tiffany was a
few steps away, her hand clutching a shattered vase, looking super pissed
off. It seemed like an argument had gone terribly wrong.
"Why do you always have to make such a scene?" Tiffany shouted,
pointing an accusing finger at Leah.
"I just wanted to be friends. Like, you know, sisters? Like in those
movies? So, I keep trying and trying. Isn’t that what you’re like supposed to
do? Be super friendly and stuff? I thought if I was all nice and friendly,
you’d be nice back. Why can't we be friends?" Ugh, so heartbreaking,
right?" Sierra gave an approving nod.
"That's your little game, huh? From the moment I had to move here,
you've been nothing but a pain in my ass!"
Leah's big eyes, swimming with tears, darted from her mother to me
and back to Tiffany. "I didn't do anything! Why do you hate everyone so
much when we all try so hard to make you feel welcome?"
Tiffany ran a hand through her hair. "Does no one get it? I need space.
Like actual space. Why does everyone keep reminding me of how screwed
up my life is? I can't be with my actual mom, and instead, I’m stuck here
with all of you. I don't want a replacement family. I want my old life back.
Just back off a bit. Is that too much to ask?"
“No one is trying to replace your mother. I understand that you’re
upset. I understand things aren’t how you want them. But could you try to
be a little more understanding of everyone else who is trying to make things
easier for you? Instead of lashing out, slamming doors, and yelling…”
Internally, I debated whether I should bring this up with Dad, but I
quickly dismissed the idea. It might just escalate things, and that was the
last thing any of us needed right now. What this family did need was
understanding, patience, and time to heal. Sierra was more than patient with
Tiffany adjusting, but now Tiffany was just being too much.
“Then you can go tell my dad. I want to go home, then you guys can go
back to your happy life without me. Because I’m not going to pretend
everything is peachy when it’s not…”
 "Tiffany, we're all trying to create a stable environment for you.
Especially after what you've been through."
"I hadn't been through anything. Like..." She gave Leah a stern glare.
“I’m going to bed. Have fun baking or whatever you guys do in your free
time.”
After Tiffany's cold words, the house fell quiet. Leah, with her usual
aplomb, went about her baking while I aimlessly flipped through a
magazine. As time passed, the silence grew stifling. Maybe it was guilt or
the heavy weight of family ties pulling at my heartstrings, but I felt the need
to speak with Tiffany.
Gently, I knocked on Tiffany's door before entering. The room was
dimly lit. I found her curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow tightly against
her chest.
"I want to go home. Why doesn't Mom just come get me? This isn't
home."
I sat beside her, placing a comforting hand on her back. "I know it's
hard, Tiff. But you could try a bit harder to fit in. Remember when you and
Sierra went to the spa? It wasn't that bad."
"That's just it. Sierra's always doing too much…always trying to pull
me into everything, giving me advice all the time. And Dad? He expects us
to act like everything's chill, but he's like never around. He's always busy.
Feels like he just left us here and hopes it all works out. Then there is
Leah...So, let's just not go there with her."
I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I totally get it. I
wish Dad was around more, too. But maybe you should talk to him? We can
figure things out and make it okay until things get better with Mom."
"I’ll think about it."
When I got back to my room, I rummaged through my drawers and
found that set of keys. My eyes lingered on the familiar house key–the one
for Mom's place. An idea formed in my mind. I knew Mom's schedule by
heart. If I could sneak over when she wasn’t home, clean up a bit, and make
the place feel homier, maybe Dad would consider letting Tiffany go back.
As much as I wanted to make things better for my sis, I couldn’t help
but think about how this would make my life easier, too. Bringing some
normalcy to Tiffany's life would mean the same for me.

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 EIGHTEEN
Mira
2006
I slid the key into the lock, turning it gently, careful not to make a sound. I
took a cautious glance around, ensuring no curious eyes were watching
from the neighbouring windows. Mom was supposed to be at work, and I
needed this short window of time to myself.
The door creaked open to reveal the once-familiar interior of my
mother's home. What I saw made my heart drop. It was even worse than
Dad had described. The last time I'd been here, things had already started
spiraling. Unsorted mail cluttered the coffee table, dishes were piled high
on the end table, and mountains of laundry took over the sofa. Everywhere I
looked, discarded food wrappers formed a jagged trail across rooms.
Stepping in, an overpowering smell hit me—a mix of stale food,
mustiness, and something else indefinable. Perhaps decay? A sick feeling
settled in my stomach. How had it gotten this bad? Mom had always been a
little messy, but this was at a whole different level. My eyes darted around,
taking in every detail and chaotic corner of the house. This was no longer
the home I remembered. It felt like the set of some post-apocalyptic movie.
At Dad's house, every book on my shelf was alphabetized, and every
dish was in its proper place. The sight of a misplaced sock would make me
uneasy. It's how I found peace. This? It was my absolute nightmare. My
chest tightened, seeing the disorder not as a mere mess but as a silent
scream for help from my mother.
Delving deeper into the house, the kitchen was no better. A towering
stack of dirty dishes waited by the sink, and old food containers littered the
countertops. Tiffany's room was slightly better, although the absence of her
makeup, save for some residual smears, was noticeable.
I stopped short of my bedroom. The door was closed, just as I had
always left it. The last recollection I had had of it was being kinda empty of
my everyday stuff, but full of old memories. I had convinced myself that I
didn't truly miss those things. It was the sentiments they held more than the
objects themselves. But now, right outside the door, everything hit me.
 Deep down, I half-expected the room would match the clutter of the
rest of the house. Mom had a habit of filling empty spaces with random
things. It felt like she was trying to mask the emptiness she felt with
planned disorder. But when I pushed the door open, it shocked me. My old
posters still hung on the walls. I had left my bed untouched, and every
detail remained exactly as I had remembered. It felt like I had stepped into a
time capsule.
I ran my fingers over some dust, and the room's distinct scent struck
me. It was different from the stinkiness of the rest of the house. Tears
welled up in my eyes. Was this her way of showing that she truly missed
and loved me? It seemed that she couldn't bear to alter a single thing about
the room, as it was mine. Only now did I understand how deeply I missed
this space. My current room at Dad's house felt cramped and like a
compromise. But this room, my room, stood as a testament to a time when
my family was together.
I shut the door and made my way to the living room, walking past
Mom's room. Not only was the house a mess, but Mom's recent
unpredictable behavior also weighed on my mind. Taking a deep breath, I
began my cleaning routine.
I started by collecting all the random trash into garbage bags and
stacking the dirty dishes to bring into the kitchen. A bead of sweat rolled
down my cheeks, and by the time I was on garbage bag number ten, I felt
like I'd just done a full workout. My hands were a wreck, but seeing the
room transform was satisfying.
Bit by bit, the living room looked like the one I had remembered. As I
mentally braced myself for vacuuming and tackling the pile of dishes in the
kitchen, the sound of the front door caught my attention. My heart raced.
I checked my watch: it was only one thirty. Mom wasn't supposed to be
home until evening. She ran a high-end jewelry store, and usually didn’t get
home until five. A sudden thought crossed my mind: had she lost her job?
Considering her recent behavior, it wouldn't shock me if she showed up at
work intoxicated. Just what I needed today.
I stood still waiting for a storm to brew.
"Mira!?"
Mom looked...rough, like she hadn't slept in days. The dark circles
under her eyes seemed deeper, and those little wrinkles I’d never really
noticed before looked obvious now. Her usually neat hair was a wild mess,
full of knots and tangles. Her shirt was inside out, and her eyes had that
glazed-over look. I'd seen it on Joseph when he'd had a bit too much to
drink.
"Hi, Mom," was all I managed to say. I never knew how to handle her
when she was like this. Sober, Mom was unpredictable enough, but this
version was even scarier. "How are you?"
She looked around the room, taking in the bags of trash, the cleared
floor, and the slightly more organized chaos.
"Oh, how delightful! A surprise visit. To what do I owe this honor?"
"I just...I wanted to help." I hated how defensive I sounded. I was doing
her a favor. I didn't need to be here.
"Why are you here, Mira?" Her voice was even. It stung a bit that she
really didn't care.
I took a deep breath. "Tiffany keeps telling me she wants to come
home, Mom. Every night, she wonders when she can return. Why haven't
you done anything?"
Did mom even want her home? Obviously not if she hadn't made any
effort to clean up any.
Mom's eyes darted around. "So, you're telling me this because...?"
"She wants to come home. Do you not want her home?" I stammered
and looked around. "Maybe she would be better off at Dad's house."
"Oh, trust me, she's been all over my phone, whining and complaining.
And your point? Tiffany's always acting like she's in some drama. Probably
gets it from Dad and, ugh, Sierra. Acting all sweet, wanting to 'help' her sad,
pathetic mom. It's so cliche."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Why would she lie about that?
She's legit unhappy there. She can't stand Dad's new girlfriend and don’t
even get me started on her daughter."
"Or maybe," Mom shot back, "you told her to act all sad? Maybe it's
convenient for you. Or maybe you're just trying to get back at me."
I felt my face go hot. "Are you for real? I'm here, on my day off, trying
to help YOU, so, Tiffany can come back. I seriously can't do this with you
right now. I don't get where you're coming up with this whole 'I'm using
Tiffany' thing. It makes zero sense." I sighed. "Maybe you don't even want
her anymore. Like..."
"Of course, I want her here. And what‘s this about a new job?"
 I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yeah, Sierra got me a job
housekeeping. Something I'm actually good at."
"Ah, the amazing, always-there Sierra. Are you replacing me with her?
She's suddenly your new mom?"
I stared at her. "Replace you? Sierra has nothing to do with this! She's
just supporting me right now. But you're my mom, as always."
She pointed an accusing finger at me. "You've always taken your
father's side. It feels like you and Tiffany are drifting away. Especially after
those phone calls started. They terrify me, Mira. And now you're with your
dad and Sierra. They are trying to push me away."
"This isn't about Dad or Sierra, Mom. This is about you and your
choices. Remember the DUI?"
She raised her hand as if she were going to hit me. "How dare you
bring that up?"
I stepped back, my heart racing. "Look, you're the one pushing
everyone away. Always with the drinking and letting the house go to crap.
And not taking care of yourself. Maybe if you looked around and saw what
a mess this place is, you'd get that maybe you're the one acting all
replaceable."
She played with the collar of her shirt. "See what I mean. You always
make things more difficult. I'm not trying to be replaced: you're being
difficult. You've always been like this, Mira. So obsessed with being clean.
You're not normal. Always trying to control everything. Maybe for once,
you’ll listen to what I have to say, and maybe you'll realize that this isn't
normal. Your actions aren't normal."
I took a deep breath. "Don't do this, Mom," I murmured, holding back a
flood of tears. "Don't project your insecurities onto me. This isn't about me
being neat or controlling. It's about something much deeper."
She scoffed, "Deeper? Oh please, spare me. There's nothing 'deep' here.
Why can't we just talk like mother and daughter? Why can't you take my
advice without overthinking it."
I blinked. "Fine, maybe I'm overthinking. Whatever. I just came to
make things right for Tiffany. Honestly, I hoped I wouldn’t even have to see
you because this always happens. I just wish you'd get your act together for
Tiffany; maybe one day, we won’t have the same fight every time we talk. I
love you; you know. No one will ever replace you. It just sucks seeing you
like this."
 She sneered, turning away. "Isn't that sweet? You think you have all the
answers. You have no idea..."
"I've been talking to Tiffany, Mom," I began, desperately trying to
bridge the widening gap between us. "She mentioned those late-night calls
and the shouting on the other end. She thinks you might be missing me. But
if you are, I can't decipher it from all this."
I gestured at the chaos of the living room with its scattered trash bags.
“I can’t be the reason for everything going wrong.” I kept trying and trying
to make her love me, but it wasn’t enough. "I-I hope things get better for
you, Mom." Quietly, I handed her the house key from my pocket. She had
to understand that she couldn't keep treating me this way. "This has to stop.
I can't let you hurt me anymore."
She took the key from me. Her hand shook. "Maybe...it's better this
way. I-I–"
"Goodbye, Mom." Talking wasn't helping. In fact, it was making it
worse. Whatever was going on inside Mom, she needed to find the
wherewithal to help herself. I was hurting too, and I needed space.
As soon as I left her house, I felt so much better. Letting go of that
burden. Letting go of the expectations. I knew I couldn't change her but
standing up for myself felt so freeing. If she wanted a relationship, the ball
was firmly in her court.

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 NINETEEN
Mira
2006

My skin was crawling, like wearing a shirt two sizes too small.
Just last week, everything seemed chill on the outside, but Tiffany was
off—like, off. If she wasn’t at school, she would be hiding out in her room,
her eyes basically superglued to her phone screen, and totally ignoring Dad.
It’s like she was there, but not really. To keep myself from overthinking, I
hung out with Joseph, hitting up his place or the mall. When I got my first
paycheck, I went a little wild buying stuff. A change-up from my usual
spree of cleaning when I was stressed.
After I attacked the bathroom with bleach and scrubbers, I drifted into
the kitchen. Tiffany was there, phone in face, totally oblivious to Leah
helping Sierra with the dishes—or choosing to ignore it, more likely. Even
Leah had been acting weird. She was the type who usually needed, like, a
thousand reminders to do one simple task, but it seemed as if Tiffany's
presence had sucked all her positive energy. Sierra was throwing these
worried glances at Tiffany and muttering under her breath. I got it—she was
all about everyone doing their part. It wasn’t that hard. Just clean up your
own mess, right?
Cleaning had become my own form of meditation, yet since living
here, I found less need for it. Joseph said it was because I felt more settled.
That theory held up, considering I'd been cleaning more since Tiffany's
arrival. She had been a total nightmare—more mess, more stress, and just
being a royal pain on purpose.
I started wiping down the counters. I hoped maybe Tiffany would catch
on and peel her eyes away from her phone to help.
Sierra smiled forcibly. "Drowning in homework, Tiffany?"
Tiffany just rolled her eyes, not bothering to look up. "Yeah, done with
it forever ago."
Then Leah spun around. "I did all my homework too, Mom!" She
caught my gaze. "You know, my teacher, Mira, she's super sweet—just like
you. And get this, Mrs. Halstead gave me a B+ on my math test! That's like
the highest mark I have ever gotten, ever! I studied very hard too. Like..."
I was just about to congratulate her when Tiffany looked up, her smile
not reaching her eyes. She mocked her. "I finished all my homework! Can I
have a shiny gold star? I'm so special." It was like watching someone pop a
kid’s balloon. It was mean and uncalled for.
I caught my breath. I wanted to tell her to stop being a bitch, but I
didn't. I scrubbed at the counter instead.
The kitchen got super quiet. We all attempted to ignore the elephant in
the room.
Tiffany leaned back, throwing her feet up on the counter I had just
wiped down.
Leah shook it off. "Oh, and Mrs. Lewis said my essay was like, the best
she's read all term!"
Sierra took a long, deep, drawn-out breath. "That's amazing, honey."
But Tiffany practically jumped up. "Oh, look at me," she mocked in an
exaggerated, high-pitched voice, "I finished my homework, and everyone
needs to know!” She rolled her eyes. “Can we just have some peace and
quiet without you needing to share something every waking moment of
your day? No one cares."
Leah looked crushed.
Sierra finally erupted. "Can we just not, for once? Five minutes,
Tiffany. Just five minutes without your disrespect."
"Then someone tell her to shut the hell up! Really, all you need to do
was just stop talking. Like, oh my god."
Then all of a sudden Dad rushed into the kitchen. "Enough! Tiffany, I
won't tolerate disrespect any longer. It's completely unacceptable. Yes, I
understand you’re having a hard time, but this ends right here, right now."
Tiffany rolled her eyes, her fingers curling into a tight fist on her lap.
"Okay, whatever."
He took a step closer. "I need you to apologize. Right now."
My heart skipped a beat. I was used to Dad's calm, even-toned
discussions, not this. And right now, he was disappointed. It was never a
good feeling, and it wasn't even directed at me.
Tiffany stood abruptly, her chair screeching loudly against the floor.
She tried to leave, but Dad blocked her path. She pushed against him but
couldn't get past him.
 "You're staying right here until we address this matter."
I found myself torn between stepping in and staying silent. I hadn't told
anyone I had tried to go to Mom's house to clean it up so Tiffany could
leave. I didn’t want them to know that part of me wanted her gone. I
enjoyed her company when she visited a lot more.
I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to organize something, reaching
almost my breaking point. It was the sole reason I moved to live with Dad
in the first place. To get away from all of Mom and Dad’s drama.
Leah’s eyes darted.
Sierra exhaled softly. "At least someone is doing something about this
little brat. Finally, someone was confronting Tiffany's behavior.”
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever came next.
Tiffany’s gaze narrowed. "I hate it here. Now move."
“We're talking about this right now!”
He didn't leave any opportunity for negotiation.
"You want to discuss it right now?” Tiffany was shaking. Her face was
beet red. She looked like she would burst into flames.
"I wish you'd stayed gone.” She stopped, her body trembling. “We all
got used to your absence when you left us. We weren’t good enough for
you. So, you found something better with your new family? You had us.
Now you have them, so why come back?" The words stumbled out,
relentless and bitter.
"Why do you want me to act like I'm happy for you? I'm not. I've tried
to forgive you, but I can't. I don't forgive you for leaving me. You hurt all of
us for your own selfish needs. You've never once said you were sorry. You
never once reached out to tell any of us why you left us. But now, you
expect an apology from me. What hypocrisy. I won’t. Because you're a
hypocrite, Dad, if I can even call you that. Mira might have forgiven you,
but I haven't. I don't see you as my dad. A real dad wouldn't just leave his
kids one day and come back acting like nothing happened.”
She took a heaving breath. “Are you satisfied now? We’re talking about
this. When you could have just moved the hell out of the way and let me
be!"
Dad turned pale.
Tiffany wasn’t finished. "Did you even bother waiting before moving
on?" she spat out, her eyes shooting daggers between Dad and Sierra. "Did
you start your little affair with her while you were still with Mom, or did
you just conveniently bump into her afterward? It was only what, a year?
You moved mighty fast."
Sierra flinched.
"But you know what? It doesn't even matter!" Tiffany continued, not
giving him or Sierra a chance to respond. "You replaced us, just like that.
And even now, you're barely here. You think you can occasionally play dad,
and everything will be, okay?"
Her words hit hard, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was surprised
Tiffany had kept this bottled up for so long. The thoughts she was revealing
were thoughts I had in my mind for ages, but I'd buried them deep down.
Life with Dad and Sierra had been good. Tiffany obviously didn’t agree.
Without missing a beat, Tiffany turned her rant toward Sierra. "Playing
'mom' when you don't even know us. Talking about my mom behind her
back—as if you have any right. She's a thousand times the mother you'll
ever be!"
Sierra took a deep breath. "You don't get to talk to me like that. You
don't get to talk to your father like that. You're here because your mom can't
take care of you. We're all struggling here. It's not just you. The world
doesn't revolve around you. Deal with it."
Tiffany's face flushed a deeper shade of red. "You're nothing but a..."
"Maybe we should just let her go,” Leah interrupted. “It's what she
wants, right?"
Tiffany's head snapped in Leah's direction. "You think this is what I
want? My god, you’re so freaking dumb. Shut up! Like, sew your mouth
shut. My God."
Jumping to my feet, I found myself standing between Tiffany and Leah.
"Enough, Tiffany! She did nothing to you but agree with what you’ve been
saying you want this entire time."
She glared at me. "Oh, now you're turning against me, too? What a
backstabber.”
Dad took a deep breath. "I hear your pain, Tiffany. But it doesn't excuse
the way you're behaving. It stops now. We are a family. We need to come to
some kind of understanding."
She rolled her eyes. "Family and understanding? That’s rich. Really?
She’s not my family. She is just some woman you decided to…” Tiffany
paused, but what she was going to say was crystal clear. “And where was
that so-called understanding when you left us? Yeah, let's be one big happy
family. Give me a freaking break."
Dad's jaw tightened. "I made mistakes, Tiffany. I wished I would have
handled things differently, but I’m trying to make things right."
Tiffany wasn't letting up. "Oh, what about Mira? You always played
favorites with her. And surprise, surprise, you ditched her too!"
I swallowed hard. I had always been Daddy's little girl, but hearing
Tiffany say it out loud felt like a betrayal.
Dad didn’t say anything.
"From where I am from, family means sticking together. Your
definition of family is running away. Mom never abandoned us, even when
things were at their worst. If you really cared, you'd let me go back to her. I
think you only care about making yourself feel better."
Dad took another deep breath. "I'm sorry, Tiffany. I truly am. So let’s
sit and talk about this and figure things out."
Tiffany wasn't convinced. "Figure out what, exactly? There's no
figuring out for me here. I was happier with Mom. I felt like I belonged
there. But since you forced your way back into our lives, everything's just...
fallen apart."
Sierra, clearly fed up, interjected, "Mark, she is your daughter. Deal
with her. Honestly, no one deserves to deal with this nonsense. I don't know
what else to do to handle the situation."
Dad's fingers drummed. "You've made your point, Tiffany. But you
need to adjust your attitude immediately, or you'll face consequences."
"You don’t know anything.?" Her gaze landed on me. "And you. Watch
your back with them, Mira." She looked at both Dad and Sierra. "He left us
once; he can do it again. And she," she said, pointing at Sierra, "she's just
putting on an act. Don't trust her. She'll stab you in the back the moment
your back is turned." Tiffany spun on her heel, storming out. No one
followed her. That was probably for the best.
Sierra broke the silence. "Well, that was unexpected. I couldn't imagine
speaking to my mom that way and not dealing with any consequences. I
guess there's always a first... I know we are doing what is supposedly best
for her, but that disrespect." She looked down and sighed condescendingly.
"I know she is your mother, Mira, and I'm not trying to step on any toes, but
Tiffany's behavior is a direct reflection of an environment that is just not
healthy."
 I bit my lip. Everything she was saying was true. Mom’s house wasn’t
a healthy environment, but that was still my mother and hearing anyone talk
about her, even stating facts, bothered me.
I also don’t think Sierra realizes just how much our dad leaving us
impacted Tiffany. I think being with Mom would be better right now, in her
state, than staying here, making everyone else miserable.
"I'm... I'm mortified. I cannot even begin to excuse her behavior."
Sierra held Dad’s hand. "I think we should all take some time to cool
down.” Then she turned her attention to Leah. “Leah, listen sweetie. Please,
please don’t bother Tiffany. Don’t talk to her. Do not approach her. Do not
even think of knocking on her door. If you even see her shadow, walk in the
other direction. Until we can figure out how to handle things, be careful. No
one deserves to be treated like this.”
All of this was so uncomfortable. “I’m going to my room."
My pace quickened to a near run to my room, my heart racing against
my ribs. I needed to talk to someone who could truly get it. I shut the door a
little too hard behind me, and my hands trembled as I punched in Joseph's
number into my flip phone. After pouring out what had just happened, there
was a heavy silence.
"This is your dad's mess, not yours. Standing up for Leah and yourself
was right. You shouldn’t be dragged into this.”
Collapsing onto my bed, I let out a heavy sigh. "It's just—having
Tiffany around is bringing up a lot of my own feelings I’ve been ignoring.
If things weren’t so bad with my mom, I probably would have lost my mind
on him, too. But right now, I need the peace and quiet.”
"You’re confronting reality, Mira. It’s normal to feel shaken," he
reassured me.
I ended the call telling him I loved him. I felt a lot better.

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 TWENTY

Mark
2006
I tried to eat before I had to return to work, but I wasn't hungry. The clock
on the dashboard said 7:57 p.m., and time was flying.
I grabbed a fry and thought of Tiffany. I left her at home with Sierra
again, despite the visible tension that had built up between them in the
weeks since Tiffany moved in. I'd insisted she live with me while Sherry
dealt with some personal issues. But every passing day made me wonder if
I'd made the right choice, or if Sherry’s silence meant she simply didn’t care
about either of her daughters.
My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my thoughts. Sierra's name
flashed across the screen, and I answered the call. "Hey."
"Mark. Tiffany's not home."
A knot formed in my stomach. "Maybe she went out for a walk? She's
probably—"
"She took her stuff, Mark. I went into your office, and her things are
gone. Her bag, clothes... everything." Sierra was panicking.
My heart raced. What had I done? Why did I leave her alone? I
should've been there. "Okay," I managed. "Okay, look, don't panic. I'll call
you back in a bit. Just stay there in case she comes home."
The city sped past me, but I felt trapped in slow motion. Guilt squeezed
my chest, and my mind was consumed by Tiffany.
At a red light, I tried to breathe. Where was she? I reached for my
phone and dialed her number.
After a few rings, her voicemail answered. "Hey, it's Tiffany. I’m busy
right now, but leave me a message!" Her cheerful voice, in contrast to my
current state, felt like a punch to the gut. I redialed immediately, praying
she'd pick up this time. But again, the same recorded voice answered.
"Dammit," I muttered under my breath.
My thoughts were interrupted by a ping—a reminder of an upcoming
phone meeting scheduled with a high-profile client in less than an hour.
Hong Kong daytime hours. Under normal circumstances, it would have
been a priority. But tonight, everything had changed.
Without hesitation, I opened my messaging app and quickly typed a
message to my assistant: Sarah, I can't make the call tonight. Family
emergency. Please reschedule and apologize on my behalf.
As I sent the message, I realized how deeply things had shifted within
me.
Why was I searching for Tiffany when there were so many other places
I'd rather be? The thrill of occupying a large office and keeping up with
stock market news had lost its charm. However, this shift in perspective
wasn't due to any newfound sense of fatherhood or a profound epiphany.
Rather, it was the sheer inconvenience of it all that irked me.
I called Sherry. Maybe she knew where Tiffany was. Perhaps she had
contacted her mother.
"Mark? What can I do for you?"
"I can't find Tiffany. Do you know where she is?"
"Did you try calling her?"
I bit my lip. "Yes, but she is ignoring my call. Can you try calling her?"
I couldn't see Sherry, but I knew she was rolling her eyes. "So now you
need my help? Maybe she's just upset because of something you did."
"I didn't do anything. I'm just concerned because she's taken all her
things." I hoped Sherry would provide some insight. She always
approached things in her own way, but it would be helpful if she could just
share any news about Tiffany. Sherry had a knack for rubbing salt in the
wounds, and I braced for the sting.
After a moment's silence, she said, "Look, she's living with you. You
have the responsibility to know where she is."
"Damn it, Sherry, cut the act! Is she safe?"
She scoffed. "I’m sure she is fine. Stop overreacting." And with that,
the line went dead.
The call with Sherry stirred many memories. She always had a way of
evoking many feelings. There was never a dull moment with her. But it
didn't stop me from being dishonest about my late nights, and I regretted it.
My decisions in the latter part of our marriage weren't the best, and Sherry's
feelings of resentment were valid.
But still, Tiffany was our mutual concern. If Tiffany was there, I wasn't
sure how to handle the situation. I felt I could have been there more for her
and Mira after the divorce. Then maybe she wouldn't be acting this way.
This behavior wouldn't be so out of control.
I hoped that for Tiffany's sake, Sherry could set aside her feelings
towards me.
I reached Sherry's street and pulled up to her house. The lawn was
mowed. The outside at least looked like it had been cleaned up. I walked up
and didn't smell any moldy smell. So that was a good thing. I knocked on
the door. Sherry answered, standing there arms akimbo. She was sober and
presentable.
"Hello, Mark. An unexpected visit after our recent phone chat." She
wasn’t surprised. That smirk gave it away.
I smiled at her, choosing to mellow the mood. She was testing me. It
was what she did. "I believe Tiffany is here." There was an art to dealing
with Sherry — like handling nitroglycerin, it required a steady hand.
"Why would she be?" Sherry asked.
Sherry's reaction confirmed to me that Tiffany was indeed here. The
challenge lay in getting Sherry to admit it. I had once admired Sherry's
transparency with her emotions. There had never been a need to second-
guess her feelings. Right now, though, I wished she would keep them in
check for both our sakes.
I took a deep breath. Compliments often helped placate Sherry. "Your
home looks better. Did you finally get around to some spring cleaning?"
Her smile was a small win. "Yeah, she's here." Sherry rolled her eyes.
"Safe and not going back with you. So don't even think about it."
It was about Tiffany now, keeping the peace for her. But standing there,
in the shadow of the past, it was a tall order to keep the cool, especially
with Sherry looking ready for a fight at the slightest provocation.
I sighed. I'd let Sherry have her moment, as I just didn't have the fight
in me to argue. But I still needed to make double sure things with Sherry
were better. Not perfect, but better.
The silence was painful. Every time I came here, I felt guilty. "Can I
come in?"
She hesitated. "Fine, but make it quick."
We moved to her living room. The floors were in desperate need of a
good cleaning, but at least the garbage and dishes had disappeared. I could
see the couch.
"So, what do you want?"
 "I want to talk about Tiffany's behavior lately. It doesn't really matter
where she lives, but it's become a problem. She's been rude. She lashes out.
Everyone has to walk on eggshells around her. I'm just concerned."
She crossed her arms. "Okay? I mean, you abandoned your family for
another woman. How much longer would you have stayed away if Mira
hadn't run into you? I mean, look at how you treated her mother."
I winced. "I know I've made mistakes. But this... this is about Tiffany's
well-being, not us."
Sherry was relentless. She rolled her eyes. "How can it not be about us?
All of this is your fault. When you had the divorce papers delivered to me at
my work, of all places, I began to accept that you were never coming back.
I suppose I can be grateful you agreed to give me custody and generous
spousal support. But I attribute that to your guilt, not any genuine concern
for me. Not that it changes what you did. You made the conscious decision
to not see your children."
"I didn't want to fight you..." I didn't want to bring the girls into the
middle of our divorce.
"Then, when you returned and flaunted Sierra. What's even worse is
your attempt to force a bond between the kids and your new girlfriend, who
you've been with for what, a year?”
"I didn't flaunt her. I'm sorry you found out about her from Tiffany."
"So now it's Tiffany's fault?" Sherry took a deep breath, reminding
herself not to dwell on that. "It wouldn't surprise me if you'd been seeing
her way before that..." She took another deep breath. "Can you blame
Tiffany for resisting? For her attitude and her desire to leave? I sure would
have felt the same way if my mom had pulled something like that." Sherry
looked down at her feet and sighed. I could see the years peel away,
revealing the pain underneath.
“Sierra is not the enemy here. She has been nothing but supportive and
understanding." Sherry wasn’t totally wrong, though. I did give her custody
and much more alimony than I would have had too in most circumstances. I
didn’t want a war.
Sherry laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You know what, I take
back the maybe. I believe you met Sierra before we separated. No, I'm one
million percent sure. You met Sierra before you decided to abandon your
family. She is probably the reason. And any woman who willingly wrecks a
home is a whore and can't be trusted. And I don't blame Tiffany one bit for
seeing through your attempts to assuage your own guilt by thrusting her
into your new life."
I swallowed. "Sierra isn't to blame for Tiffany's behavior. Tiffany is
struggling because of our mistakes."
Sherry's gaze bore into me. "Nah. I'm not taking the blame on this one.
Tiffany is respectful. I didn’t experience any of this lashing out you talk
about when she was living here."
Of course, she didn't. She always treated Tiffany more like a friend
than as her mother.
Sherry exhaled. "I guess that isn't entirely true, but again, not my fault.
The first few months after you left with your new girlfriend and never once
called her, she found that really hard. Then, shortly after Mira left, you
came in and swooped in, playing 'Daddy of the Year.' I was going through
some difficult stuff, and I allowed, yes, allowed, her to try living at your
place. Well, then."
"What does that even mean? She is a lot like you."
"Meh, I guess that's why things didn't work out for her over there.
Because you abandoned your marriage, so of course, things go south with
your daughter, who, according to you, is like me. So, this whole situation
seems pretty clear to me. She lives with you, and she doesn’t like your new
girlfriend. It's obvious your girlfriend's influence has affected things. The
way that woman wormed her way into our lives? And your absence, Mark?
Couldn't you find more time in your schedule to be there for her? Tiffany
even mentioned overhearing Sierra's snide remarks about me. It seems you
wanted her to step into my role. So, frankly, any attitude or behavior you
disapprove of? You'd better believe that's all on you."
The low blow stung, but I wasn't going down without a fight. "Oh,
please. Like you're the perfect mother. What about Mira? How long has it
been since you two last spoke?"
Sherry's jaw tightened. "I'm not sure what Mira has to do with Tiffany,
but it's not the same thing. I didn't abandon Mira. I didn't leave her
knowingly with someone who struggled with her, to go play house with
someone else. But since you want to discuss Mira now, she visited a few
days ago. But honestly, it seriously isn't any of your business. We aren't
together. I didn't stop caring for over a year. So, really?"
My eyes widened. "She was here? Why didn't you mention it? What
did you two talk about?"
 She smirked. "So, things aren't so rosy with Mira, either? Man, she
lives with you by choice and you're still out of the loop. I guess she's just
using your house as a free place to live until she finds somewhere better. I
mean, she could come back here if she wanted. I never kicked her out, but
she seems to think she isn't welcome."
I rolled my eyes. Mira definitely wasn't welcome in Sherry's house, but
I was still surprised she came to visit Sherry, though. "And just so we're
clear when it involves our children, it is my business."
She shot me a cold glance. "One, we aren't together. Two, we went a
year with no contact. And three, Mira's an adult. Just so you know, and this
is crystal clear going forward, I don't feel obliged to update you every time I
have a conversation with our adult daughter. She's grown now. If you're
curious about what we discussed, you won't hear it from me. Consider
yourself lucky I even mentioned her visit. This is the only time I'll offer you
that. Okay?"
This conversation was getting nowhere. Time hadn't healed our
wounds. Sherry couldn't forget that I had left her, and she couldn't move
past the pain to speak civilly with me. While it seemed, she was acting more
stable and calmer, I guess I could see her struggle in trying not to lash out at
me. I guess her recent visit with Mira had some effect on her, but of course,
she wouldn't tell me that. I just wanted to be cordial. But the longer I stayed
around her, the harder it became to remain calm. All I wanted was to
discuss our daughters without the lingering pain.
"Can you stop being difficult just for once?"
"Oh, difficult? Me?" She waved her hands in the air. "I don't
understand what you expect from me. Do you think I can simply turn off
my anger every time I see you? Civility? From the man who taught me the
very definition of pain? But that's not within my power right now. Maybe
one day, the anger won't blind me. Maybe then we can talk without the past
choking us. But today is not that day. But for now, I don't owe you
anything. Fix your mess with Tiffany. That's your cross to bear. I'm dealing
with mine without expecting a savior. So, continuing this conversation is
only causing us both pain. I'm trying really hard here not to lash out at you,
not to unload all my pain onto you. It's incredibly difficult. So, worry about
yourself, will you?"
I felt my heart rate increase. This was the most real and mature
response I’ve gotten out of Sherry since the divorce, but all I could focus on
was what she and Mira talked about. "What did she say? What did you two
talk about?"
Sherry leaned back. "Meh. We argued, as usual. Nothing really
resolved. I don't know how to have a relationship with her when I don't
understand her. We both are defensive and that’s my fault. She handed back
her house key. So really, nothing changed. Maybe one day." Then
something about her demeanor changed. She frowned and glared at me.
"And from the looks of it, she might be moving in with Joseph."
My face paled. Joseph. The name alone made me uneasy. Mira was still
so young, so impressionable, and the idea of her being with him...
"Not the news you wanted to hear, huh?"
"You know how I feel about Joseph. Why would she do that?"
She shrugged dismissively. "If he's so bad, why haven't you done
something about it? Because let's be real. She's an adult and can live with
whoever she wants. And I am not against the idea." She stood and walked to
the door, holding it open. "Anything else you want to know?"
I didn't reply and stood.
"Then I think it's best you leave. We've said all that needs to be said."
I left with a heavy heart. At least Sherry and I knew where we stood.
Even if it was on two different paths.
My concern was now on Mira. I didn't want her to move in with
Joseph. There was a secret about him, something I had kept to myself. I
needed to find a way to end his relationship with Mira. Whatever it took, I'd
find a way. I texted Sierra that Tiffany was safe, and I was on my way
home.

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 TWENTY ONE
Mira
2006

I was so glad to be off work. My feet hurt so badly after climbing three
flights of stairs up and down at least a dozen times. Earlier in the day, Dad
had texted me telling me he would pick me up, which was a surprise to me.
Usually, Sierra or Joseph would drive me home, as Dad most of the time
worked late.
I waited for my dad back at the office as the sun began to set a few
minutes earlier than I had told him I was off.
I paced. I knew Dad wanting to pick me up was no coincidence. It
could only mean one or two things: Tiffany and her impulsive decision to
leave Dad's house and go back to Mom's, or he found out about me visiting
Mom's house in general. Likely both. I wasn't surprised.
One way or another, Tiffany would not stick around, and I likely had a
hand in moving it along. Sierra told me this morning that Tiffany had
moved back home, so I faked being surprised. I didn't want to have that
awkward conversation with Sierra, of all people.
Dad pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down.
"Hey, Mira."
I let myself into the passenger seat. "Hey, Dad."
"How was work?" Dad pulled the gear into drive.
"It was okay. The day went by quick. I cleaned an office building this
morning and a three-story house after lunch."
An awkward silence hung between us then. "Any thoughts about going
back to school?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, maybe someday. I don't actually mind
working."
He nodded. I could tell he was itching to say something. It felt like he
was holding back words right on the tip of his tongue.
We drove in silence for a few minutes. Maybe he just wanted to
reassure himself that I wasn't planning to leave like Tiffany did. Whatever
the reason, I wished he'd just spit it out.
I broke the silence. "If you have something on your mind, just say it. I
know you didn't pick me up for small talk."
He took a deep breath. "I know you visited your mother a few days
ago. Why didn't you tell anyone?"
I picked at some crumbs in the center console. I knew it was coming,
but the question still caught me somewhat off guard. "I-I…"
"I hate putting you on the spot. But why go behind everyone's back,
especially when we were trying to give Tiffany a stable environment and a
safe place to stay while your mother dealt with… whatever it was?"
I bit my lip. "Tiffany's been miserable here, Dad. She's always telling
me how much she misses home. I just... I wanted to see if things were any
better at Moms."
"But why go without telling us?"
"Come on, Dad. If I'd come to you and said, 'Hey, I want to go check if
Mom's gotten her act together because Tiffany's been so unhappy,' would
you have said oh my god that is a wonderful idea, Mira?”
He slowly shook his head. "No, probably not. But whatever happened
at your mom's seems to have changed things. The house looked tidier, and
she appeared... more like herself. Did you clean for her?"
I shook my head. "Not really. I picked up some garbage before Mom
came home and surprised me. I kind of just left it there and went home."
"How bad was it when you got there?"
"Pretty bad. I-I..." I didn't want to throw Mom under the bus. I didn't
want to be put in the middle of their drama, but I also didn't want to lie. "I'm
just glad she cleaned up and seemed in better spirits."
He pulled into our driveway. "What did you two talk about? Your mom
mentioned you returned the house key."
I shrugged. "Same old stuff. She thinks Sierra's trying to take her place
or something. I told her it wasn't like that. I let her know she was still my
mom and I love her. But I also made it clear I wouldn’t be her emotional
dumping ground anymore. Right now, we're not on great terms.” I sighed.
“It's sad, but I've made peace with it. Is that what you wanted to know?"
He didn't say there was anything else to talk about. Thank God,
because I mean, could this conversation get any more awkward? "Are we
done?" I ventured. I hoped he would say yes, and I could go inside and get
ready for my date night with Joseph.
 "Is there anything else you haven’t told me?"
Seriously? What did he expect me to say? His question totally
blindsided me.
Our eyes met briefly, and ugh, it was so awkward.
"Dad, I've told you everything about Mom. Our relationship, or lack of
it. So, it is what it is now."
He nodded. I could tell he wasn't completely convinced, but what did
he want me to say? I told him everything. "What about Joseph? Are there
any secrets there?"
I flinched. "Why do you ask?"
"I've heard you're considering moving in with him. Is that true?"
Okay, now this conversation was going in a direction I was not loving.
I sure as hell didn’t tell anyone anything. "We've discussed it, yes. But we
haven't made any immediate plans. Why?"
His eyes narrowed. "I don’t know if that’s such a good idea."
"Why?” I crossed my arms, immediately on the defensive. What was
wrong with Joseph? “What’s your issue with Joseph? I thought we had been
through this before. You hadn't said anything for a while, so I thought
everything was good."
"I just... I want you to be careful. You can't trust him as much as you
think."
I blinked. "What do you mean? Have you heard something?"
He hesitated. "I can’t go into details, Mira. Just be cautious."
Now I was just pissed off. I hated when people did that. It was worse
when it was your own father. Especially the father who told you to trust him
before but ended up abandoning you instead.
"You can't just say something like that and not explain, Dad!” I
exploded. “I've already told you about the nightclub incident. It was a
mistake, and we’ve moved past it. So, if you're still upset about that, then I
don't know what to say."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I-I… just please listen:
there’s more to Joseph than you realize."
I rolled my eyes. "If you have a valid reason for me to stay away from
him, then you need to tell me. Otherwise, you can't expect me to just stop
seeing him because you have some make believe issue with him."
"Promise me you’ll be careful?"
 I looked away. "Honestly, Dad? I think all this drama with Tiffany is
messing with your judgment. I'm good. Everything's totally fine."
He remained silent as we finally pulled in to the driveway. I didn’t even
wait for him to kill the engine before my hand was on the door.
"Well, I'm heading inside."
I stepped out of the car and made my way into the house. Sierra was on
the couch, cradling a glass of red wine. "Hey, how was work?"
"Good!"
Her grip tightened on the glass as she took a sip. "Staying in tonight?"
I shook my head. "Actually, Joseph's picking me up in half an hour or
so. We're spending the night at his place. Maybe watch some movies." I
watched the subtle shift in her posture, the slight droop of her shoulders, the
way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "What about you and Dad? Any
plans?"
Sierra took a deep sip and shook her head. "Did your dad mention
Joseph?" Like Dad, she dragged out the awkwardness for way longer than
needed.
I nodded. "Yeah, we talked about him. He's acting a little weird. I think
he's all worked up from the last few days."
She placed the empty glass down on the coaster. "Just be safe, Mira.
And remember, your dad's just concerned because he cares."
"I know, Sierra. Thanks. Have a great evening."
I began sifting through my closet, looking for the right mix of casual
and cute. Just as I was about to change, a gentle knock came at my door. I
had a feeling I knew who it was.
"Dad?"
"Sierra told me about tonight with Joseph. I'd rather you stayed in,
Mira. They're predicting a bad storm. So maybe we could order some food,
watch a movie, or play a game. Just spend some time together."
"Dad, I need you to trust me and respect my decisions. If I don't feel
that, maybe I should think about moving in with Joseph." My phone
buzzed. "That's Joseph now. I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe you and Sierra
should go out? You haven't been home much, and after everything with
Tiffany, she deserves a nice evening."
I could tell he was ignoring that last part. "I do respect you. I've shown
you nothing but respect, but don't go acting like you know everything.
You're an adult, and I can't make you stay home, but it still doesn't change
the fact that I have a lot more life experience than you. I don't want
anything to happen to you, okay?" He got up, sighed, and left the room not
without whispering. “Why must she be so stubborn?”
I hurriedly changed, grabbed my purse and sweater, and went out to
meet Joseph.

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 TWENTY TWO
Mira
2006
Joseph and I were chilling on his bed, eyes glued to The Simpsons. He
tugged me closer, and I nestled my head into the cozy nook of his neck. The
pillows were like obstacles in my quest for the ultimate comfy spot. So
annoying! But deep down, I knew it wasn't just the pillows bugging me.
The whole drama with Dad and that nightclub mess was still gnawing at
me. I wished he'd just move on already.
"You good, Babe?"
"Yeah, just these pillows. They're being a pain."
Joseph laughed a little. "Pillow fight?" He took a pillow and threw it at
me.
Total jerk move!
I laughed and threw it back at him.
"You wounded me!" He flopped back on the bed, pulling me with him.
"Crash here tonight? Severe thunderstorms. Got the place to ourselves.
Mom's off on one of her trips."
I nodded happily and pulled him into a kiss.
After a short make-out session, Joseph pulled away reluctantly and
grinned.
"Starving? Got us a ham and pineapple pizza on the way. Late night
special. It’s like thirty percent off after midnight."
Pizza! And he ordered my favorite, too. "Sounds perfect."
Joseph's grin widened, and he kissed me again. "Good. Let's enjoy the
show until then."
Joseph was laughing at the television when the doorbell rang. He
hopped up. "I'll be right back, Babe."
He returned shortly later with pizza that smelled amazing and a stack of
napkins. We sat cross-legged on the bed. I picked off a piece of pineapple
and ate it. "This is delicious."
Joseph said with his mouth full, "Sweet and tart..." He burst out
laughing, food coming out of his mouth. He reached over and wiped some
pizza sauce from my lips and licked it. "Okay, better."
"Gross." I found myself giggly.
Joseph feigned being offended, but then his tone turned to a serious
conversation I didn’t want to have.
"So, how are things going now that Tiffany went home?"
I shrugged. "Back to normal, except my dad is acting all weird. After
he visited my mom, he thinks you and I are going to move in together soon.
I think he's all paranoid, with Tiffany exploding on him and everyone. He
has it in his head that you are no good for me, but he won't tell me what is
so bad. Like, are you some secret agent or something?" I laughed at the
absurdity.
Joseph flinched. "I'm not sure..." His gaze faded. "I'm sure he's
imagining things."
What was that? He should be laughing. Almost like he was hiding
something? Or maybe it was all in my head.
"I need to use the bathroom really quick.”
He hopped off the bed, leaving me alone with the pizza box and my
thoughts.
As I reached for another slice, I accidentally knocked a napkin off the
edge of the bed. I was rattled, that was for sure. Standing up, I paced and
then, almost compulsively, organizing. It was all in my head at first. I
opened his dresser drawer and rearranged some socks and underwear into
neat piles. The second drawer was the same. But in the third drawer, it smelt
skunky. And tucked under some sweatpants was a scale and some baggies
—and a larger sandwich bag with marijuana inside.
My throat burned as I tried to stop myself from getting mad. There
were times when I’d look at Joseph and he’d be off into his own world. I
always wondered how he could afford all his drinking when his mom
struggled just to pay the bills—a detail he once mentioned. The night he got
me a fake ID, and we hit a nightclub, he easily dropped a couple of hundred
dollars, and we had left early because of my dad, so who knows how much
more he would have spent?
The plastic baggies, the unmistakable smell, the constant flow of cash
—it was all clicking into place. The crowded hallways of our high school,
back before I dropped out, were alive with whispers and discreet exchanges.
Anyone who wanted something illicit knew just where to look. If this was
true, it was yet another side of Joseph that I didn’t know.
 I never wanted to be that person—the one who snoops on their partner.
But the red flags had been mounting, impossible to ignore any longer.
There was an odd, out-of-place phone on the end table, concealed
behind a stack of books. Joseph always carried his blackberry with him,
even to the bathroom. Why then, a second phone? I grabbed it.
I always felt Joseph wasn't a cheater and was loyal to me, but now I
wondered just what shit he did in his free time. I never aspired to be that
person—doubting, prying. I remembered the first four months how Joseph
was there to be a listening ear while I vented about my mom. What had
happened since that? And then there were my dad's warnings.
The screen lit up. He had a text message because mine did the same
when I did. I reached for the phone. It was wrong, I knew that, but I felt
compelled to look. I unlocked the phone. I found a text message from a
number not saved in his contacts. It read: Hey, you got a quarter?
A cold shiver ran down my spine. My suspicions were true. Joseph was
selling drugs. My chest ached. I heard Joseph humming as he headed back
toward the room. I quickly locked the phone and placed it back exactly
where I found it. His heavy drinking, the reckless driving, his erratic
behavior at the club—it wasn't just a string of bad days. It was a pattern.
A pattern I had been too in love, or too naïve, to see.
Joseph entered the room, and I stood up. "I gotta use the bathroom,
too." He was just in there, so I needed to know what else he was hiding.
I brushed past him without making eye contact.
Once I was in the bathroom, I locked the door and turned on the tap. I
threw some cold water on my face to chill out. I lathered my hands with
exactly three pumps of soap and slowly counted to ten, rubbing my hands
together. Checking my hands for any residue, I repeated the motion a few
more times. Deep breaths. Think. Think. How do I even handle this?
Pulling open a drawer to grab a face cloth, a tampon box caught my
eye. I opened it, revealing a hidden stash of pills. Not just a few - a small
mountain. The discovery felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me leaning
against the cold tiled wall for support. This wasn’t just about marijuana.
Joseph was dealing with something much heavier.
Gripping the baggie, I tried to process everything.
There was a knock, snapping me from my thoughts. "You good in
there, babe?"
I stumbled and sat down on the toilet seat. "Y-yeah."
 He tried the door, but it wouldn't open. "Babe?"
I cleared my throat. "How long?"
"How long what?"
"Have you dealt drugs?" I blurted out. I decided to just rip the band-aid
off.
Joseph didn't answer me at first. I was tired of holding this bag of pills.
"Babe? Open up the door because I honestly do not know what you're
saying."
Just another lie.
I stormed out of the bathroom, hurling the baggy of pills at him. "Why
the heck were these hidden in there? I found them when I was just looking
for something to clean my face."
His face went pale, eyes darting to the baggie and then back to mine.
For a moment, he said nothing, just swallowed hard. "They're not mine." He
tried to grab my hand, but I shooed him away, feeling the need to sanitize
my hands. "Babe, believe me, they aren't mine."
"Enough." My eyes filled with tears. The evidence was all there—the
baggie, his evasive eyes, the stammer in his voice. And yet, he still tried to
weave a story. I pushed past him and into his bedroom, where I collected
my purse. "I'm leaving."
He grabbed my arm gently. "Please, wait."
I paused and turned to look at him. Would he tell me the truth? Beg me
to stay? Or tell me more lies? Dad tried to warn me. But if he knew about
his drug use, then why the hell didn’t he tell me?
"Okay, okay!" he wiped some sweat from his forehead. "They're mine.
It's not as bad as it looks. I've been stressed. So, I just use party drugs
occasionally. I'm not addicted or anything like that. Promise."
I shook my head. His gaze wavered, not meeting mine. It only made
me wonder if he was into something much, much worse. "I saw the text!” I
exploded. “The baggies, the scale. The pills Do I look fucking stupid to
you?"
Joseph looked so guilty. "I'm sorry. I never meant for you to find out.
It's not a big deal. Babe, it doesn't change anything. I only didn't want to tell
you because I didn't want you to worry.”
"Not ‘a big deal?’ Are you kidding me right now?" My heart was
racing. Was he implying it was okay? ,"The drug dealing should be a deal
breaker. I don't want any part of that. But the real slap in the face? The
lying. Right now, I'm not even sure what the hell I should do. Even more
unsure if I want to be with you." I was so confused right now.
His eyes widened.
I didn't stay to hear his excuses. Fueled by rage, I shoved the end table
next to the door. Gripping its handle, my arm muscles strained as I sent
some of his belongings crashing to the ground. Good. Let him pick up the
pieces for once. The urge to clean was there, nagging, but I resisted.
Without a final glance, I stormed out. My being screamed to escape from
his toxic lies. He was just another liar—I was done with lies.
The criticisms from my mother still echoed, the silence of my father's
absence was deafening, and the bullies' taunts, along with the collective
disappointment from schools and teachers, lay shattered like the pieces on
the floor—symbols of a world that had failed me time and again.
I had no friends to call, no shoulder to lean on. Joseph, whom I'd
thought was different, was just the same. Alone was better. At least there
would be no more hurt.
"Mira, please," Joseph's voice reached out, but I didn't turn. "Babe,
wait. There's a storm outside."
I didn't care about the weather. Not even a hurricane could stop me
now. I needed distance from him, from the betrayal. Tonight, I'd purge my
space of his memory. Tomorrow, I'd decide how to end it with him,
permanently.
I ran into the rain, Joseph's voice fading behind me, his words hollow. I
ran until the distance was enough. Finally, I stopped to catch my breath,
drenched, near a sidewalk curb.

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 TWENTY THREE
Mira
2006
The bright headlights froze me in place. I could feel my heart pounding, its
rapid beats at odds with the paralysis of my feet. Panic clawed at my throat,
and a silent scream built up within me as the car charged forward, an
unstoppable force barreling towards me. Move, Mira, move! My mind
screamed. I was practically on the sidewalk in a semiprivate neighborhood.
I’ll never forget the moment of impact as long as I live: brutal and
unforgiving. The screech of tires tore through the night, a harrowing
prelude to the ruthless wallop that sent me flying. My body became a
ragdoll, tossed aside. The car sped away. I could hear the peel of the tires,
the acrid burning rubber filling my nose. Everything blurred.
A crazy swirl of colors and shapes were everywhere around me. The
repetitive thud of raindrops on the concrete filled my ears. I counted each
one, trying to steady my frantic heart. The cold droplets soaked through my
clothes, making me shudder with each hit.
Then another glare of headlights on the slick road created a mirror
image on the pavement. My legs looked so out of place. They were twisted
and turned in ways that made my stomach churn. How many degrees were
they out of alignment? I rested my head on the curb, trying to make sense of
it all. Counting, breathing, analyzing. My head hurt so badly.
A voice, familiar but unexpected at this moment, broke through my
thoughts.
"Hey! Hey! Can you hear me?"
Each of their words cut through the fog in my mind, distinct and
precise but still seeming so far away…
I tried to respond, but my words came out unclear and perplexing.
"Babe!" Joseph's voice quivered. "You're going to be okay, okay? A car
hit you, but you're going to be okay!" Joseph's grip on my hand was so tight
it hurt, as if he believed he could keep me tethered to reality through sheer
force. Everything in me wanted to zone out, but the panic in his voice
wouldn't let me.
 I couldn’t focus. I struggled to remember the details leading up to the
crash.
Just snippets.
Everything was a blur. I remembered yelling so loudly. I had knocked
over his end table. I was furious with Joseph. But why? I stormed out on
foot, despite the wild weather. How long was I out there? It had been ages
since I'd felt such rage. Walking away to clear my head seemed right,
regardless of the weather. But the moments before the impact were a blank.
I was here now. I couldn’t move. I tried to wiggle my toes and move my
legs, but they felt detached. Pain shooting out of them. What happened?
What was I forgetting? Maybe Joseph could help me fill in the gaps. Why
wasn't I more careful?
“I called an ambulance!” Joseph was yelling.
Was I going to die? I wanted to tell him I was okay, because I wanted
to believe it too, but only a weird sound came out. I was so wet and cold. I
felt sick. And, God, everything hurt so much. I felt like I was drifting off.
The distant wail of sirens became clearer. Were they really for me? It
felt surreal. I wanted to turn to look at Joseph for some kind of
confirmation.
His voice cut through the haze, sharp and desperate. "Don't you dare
close your eyes!" Veins bulged in his temples as he leaned closer, his gaze
searching mine. "Stay with me, please!"
I tried to stay awake and fight that pull to just drift off to sleep. But it
just hurt so much…
Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the raindrops on my face. My
legs . . . God, the pain. Blinding.
I could hear the ambulance drawing near over the hammering of the
rain. The paramedics' hurried voices reached me, along with the sound of
doors opening and closing, and the splashing footsteps.
"Scene's clear?"
"Yes, but I saw some downed power lines a few blocks away!"
I didn't remember live wires b-before . . . I lost my cool. What made
me overreact and step out into the rain?
"What happened?" Another voice? Who the hell was talking now?
"A car hit her. She hit her head on the curb. The other car sped off. She
is not very alert. I think she is badly hurt."
My body sure as hell was awake. It was screaming, literally. Pain.
 Put me out of my misery.
Suddenly, bright lights appeared. I squinted. A woman paramedic knelt
beside me. She shone a light into my eyes. I blinked.
"Can you hear my voice?"
I mumbled a weak yeah. I wanted to tell her how cold I felt, but the
words just wouldn’t come out.
"Now, can you tell me your name?" I knew my name. It was right
there, just out of reach. I could see the concern deepen in her eyes as she
turned to a colleague. "She appears disoriented."
I caught a glimpse of another uniform, another pair of concerned eyes.
A hand reached out, gently securing my wrist.
A cuff squeezed my arm. "Let's get her blood pressure."
He leaned in, and pulled an oxygen mask from a bag. "We're going to
give you some oxygen to help you breathe." The cool mask settled over my
face. I wanted to fight it, to yank it off, but their attention had already
shifted. Why was everything happening too fast? I threw up. My heart
pounding.
"Leg fractures. Possible spinal injury. We need a backboard and collar."
They placed a collar on my neck.
"Is she okay?" That voice... was that, Joseph? "Babe, stay with me! It's
gonna be okay."
"Mmmm." Was that me?
"We're doing everything we can, sir. Please stay back and let us work."
"Ma'am, we're going to lift you now, okay? Stay still." The motion
made me nauseous, and I think I threw up again. Pain shot through my legs
and an involuntary scream escaped from my throat.
"We've got her stabilized. We're taking her to the hospital now."
I heard Joseph's voice, desperate. “I’ll meet you there. Babe? Please,
stay with me.”
I tried to reply, “Okay.” But I wasn’t sure if he heard me. Each breath I
took was punctuated by a sharp sting, my body throbbing in protest.
They loaded me into the ambulance.
"We'll give you something for pain. Just hang in there." I felt a pinch as
they inserted an IV, and slowly, the world started to blur and fade.
"Heart rate's elevated."
The female paramedic, the one I thought I saw, first adjusted
something. I could barely keep my eyes open. My head pounded. "Hang in
there. We're getting you to the hospital as fast as we can." Her words made
me feel better.
“Hospital, this is ambulance twelve. We're coming in with a trauma
alert, ETA four minutes. Female, eighteen, hit by a vehicle. Suspected
spinal injury, bilateral leg fractures, suspected head injury. Patient is A&V
but confused. Vital signs are slightly elevated: heart rate 132 bpm, blood
pressure 131/92, respiratory rate 29 per minute. Will update if there are any
changes en route.”
The pain was intense, but I could feel the drug's effects dulling it.
"Breathing's stable."
"Stay with us. Take deep breaths."
I blinked and mumbled something.
We hit over another bump and more pain jolted through me.
"We're almost there. You're doing great. We've got you."
Her voice through all of this was comforting.
The ambulance doors swung open, and they rushed me into the
emergency room. With every bump on the uneven tiles, sharp pains shot
through me as if someone had thrust a knife into my side each time. The
hospital smelled like cleaner. I usually took comfort in cleanliness, but right
now? It was like too much. My chest tightened, gasping for each shallow
breath as if a weight pressed down on my lungs. This wasn't the plan.
Nothing was in order. The shock of what happened was wearing off.
I blinked. The room's details piece together in slow, disjointed
snapshots.
A nurse suddenly appeared, shining a light into my mouth and then
quickly into my eyes. “Airway clear.”
An EMT in a dirty uniform quickly relayed my condition. “Possible
traffic collision. Vitals stable en route. Administered pain meds, one IV line
in place."
Another voice joined, louder, commanding. Was it a doctor? "Do you
know where you are?"
Concentrating hard, I managed, "Hospital?"
He jotted down a note on a clipboard before looking at me. “Can you
tell me your name?”
Collecting my scattered thoughts was like wading through thick fog.
"M-Mira." Why was talking so hard?
 He tilted his head, pen poised above the clipboard. "Do you know
today's date?"
I frowned. "I... I don't know."
"Do you remember what happened?"
“I didn't... car." The pressure from a blood pressure cuff tightened
around my arm. The stiff C-collar placed around my neck by the EMT
earlier dug into my skin. Conversations hummed around me, accompanied
by beeping machines and distant crying. Trying to concentrate was difficult.
The lights were too harsh—the sheets, the ceiling, even a nurse's shoes.
Everything felt suffocating. A cold sweat formed at the base of my skull.
"W-where's Joseph?" I felt really overwhelmed. "He." I couldn't get the
words out. I can't... what was I saying? I felt so... lost? He promised he'd be
here. Why... why isn't he here? Bits and pieces—gravel, glaring headlights,
the screech of tires—raced through my mind, making my heart race. I need
Joseph. He said he'd meet me at the hospital. Tears blurred my vision. I felt
a sharp sting in my limbs and found it difficult to breathe. There was a
strange taste in my mouth. Another pinch on my other arm. Were they
drawing blood? I already had an IV for the ambulance. The barrage of
questions from the medical staff continued, their voices blending together.
I tried to move my fingers, wanting to feel... anything. Was everything
still there? Everything seemed so unreal. My head's killing me.
"My head... Hurts?" Did they hear that?
The cold touch against my forehead brought an icy jolt. "Does your
head hurt?" Their voice sounded like they were miles away. My mouth was
crazily dry. Breathing felt like I'd just run a marathon, and all the sounds
around me were messed up - sometimes too quiet and sometimes way too
loud. My heartbeat was the loudest thing, totally drowning out everything
else. Everything was blurry. And my thoughts? I couldn't keep focused on
anything.
"Stay with us," they urged, but who were they talking to? I was right
here. I was feeling goddamn everything. My brain was going a mile a
minute. Seriously, why was everything so dang white? Why was that
monitor beeping louder and louder? There was a hurried movement to my
side; a nurse wiping something off the floor. A red stain? Was that... my
blood?
"Her heart rate is higher than normal."
It seemed like a different person speaking all the time.
 "Are you in any pain anywhere else?"
Pain? I kinda wanted to laugh or cry, or both. Like, seriously. A
goddamn car hit me. Everything hurt.
I still remembered what my legs looked like. They weren't normal.
They were twisted. They were twisted and broken. I was sure of that much.
But just how bad, no one had said. I was very disturbed by their appearance
earlier, but I couldn't keep my mind off how badly they looked. My breath
quickened. My heart was pounding.
I cried. I needed to see someone familiar. Joseph. He should be here by
now. I remembered him saying it, right before the ambulance took me. The
shock of all that shit was real now. I just wanted his arms around me,
making everything feel okay.
"Joseph? J-Joseph?" Words tangled in my mouth. I felt those cold,
clinical hands on my arm. They gave me fluids in my IV. Even in my
distraught state, I noticed their precision in measuring each drop. Would
they give me too much? Or not enough? I just wanted the agony to stop.
And more than anything, I wanted Joseph.
The team of nurses and doctors moved with purpose around me.
Another nurse approached with a portable monitor.
I overheard someone mention, "Get an ECG on her. Check the heart's
activity."
I blinked and said nothing.
The doctor flipped through a chart. "Let's get a set of X-rays for both
legs, the chest, spine and the pelvis. And a CT scan for her head, given the
trauma and her disoriented state and complaints about a headache. Ensure
cervical precautions during transfers."
A radiology technician, accompanied by a nurse, arrived with a
portable X-ray machine. They worked together, shifting my position gently.
The flat detector of the X-ray machine slid behind me. The nurse held me
gently, making sure my position was secure and my spine remained stable.
Every touch, every motion, reminded me of the pain in my legs, but the
drugs made it distant, like an echo.
"I'm going to give her some saline, keep her hydrated," a voice,
possibly another nurse, murmured from somewhere to my left. I could hear
the soft squeeze of a bag and the subtle click of machinery.
All around, snippets of conversations floated to my ears.
"Blood pressure's holding steady."
 "Prep the CT room."
"Make sure she's monitored after that dose."
Voices overlapped, and I couldn’t keep track of who was talking.
I wanted to ask, what's happening? My eyes felt droopy. I wanted to
keep them open. But they felt so heavy. I wanted Joseph... Would he be here
quicker if I just closed my eyes for a moment?
"We're taking you for a CT scan," a new voice informed me. "It's
essential you try to stay still if it's uncomfortable."
The faint roll of wheels—was this a CT scan? The thought flitted by,
slipping away as quickly as it came. Sounds around me muffled, the once-
clear voices now soft whispers lulling me closer to sleep.
I stirred, like waking up from a deep, groggy dream. There was a
humming sound and a beeping. I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like they
were weighed down. A memory flashed—people rushing, overwhelming
noise, blinding lights...
Every movement was agony. Each time I tried to shift; a sharp spasm
reminded me of my limits. A soft mask covered my nose and mouth. As I
squinted and pushed my eyelids open, the sound of a heart monitor beeping
rhythmically met my ears. There were other machines too, whispering their
mechanical lullabies in the background. A cuff periodically tightened and
released on my arm. Something small was attached to my finger,
monitoring, I guessed. My legs shot in pain.
I felt the restriction around my neck. The cervical collar. Then
everything seemed to rush back to me like a tornado. Joseph. The argument.
He was dealing drugs, and I lost it. My heart raced. The screech of tires
and... oh God, Joseph... where was he? When... I was in the hospital.

OceanofPDF.com
 TWENTY FOUR
Mira
2006

I wanted Joseph. "J-Joseph!" My mind blurred. I felt groggy. "Joseph?"

Where was he? The last thing I remembered was him being at the scene:
tires screeched; and headlights blinded me. A car hit me. I could piece that
much together. But where was he? He promised to be here. But he wasn't.
"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" A nurse stood over me in green
scrubs. She was jotting down numbers from the screens onto her clipboard.
"I... uh," I wasn't exactly sure what I felt, at least enough to put into
words. I felt pain. I wanted Joseph. I shook. I was frustrated. My brain
wasn’t working right. Talking was so hard.
"Do you know where you are right now?" I nodded. "Hospital. Where’s
J-joseph?" Frustration.
"He's waiting outside. I'll bring him in after a few more questions.
Okay?"
I agreed. Or more like mumbling a weak yes. It felt like I had no
choice.
After going through the same routine for what felt like the millionth
time. I just really wanted to sleep. The nurse left as she had promised, and a
short time later, Joseph walked into the room. "Y-your here..." I burst into
tears. I’m not sure why I was crying. I wanted him here, and he was here.
But I was so overwhelmed. My head pounded. I felt like throwing up. But
he was here.
He pulled up a seat beside me. "Yeah, I'm here, Babe. I said I'd be
here." He held my hand. "I'm so glad you're alive."
"W-what happened?" The question was a key turning in a lock, willing
the fragmented memories to align into coherence. He didn’t say anything at
first.
"You were there.” This entire time, I kept remembering bits and pieces
of his voice.
 Joseph glanced behind him and back at me. "I came after you after you
left angry. Do you remember what happened right before you left my
house?"
I glared at him. My jaw clenched. I stared at him, trying really hard to
remember. I found some drugs, I was pretty sure. I always reacted badly
when I was furious. "Yeah, I think."
His eyes dropped. "I was worried about you, so I followed you. I saw
the car hit you. I honked. They didn't even try to stop. I swear... I-I didn't
know if you were okay." He swallowed his Adam's apple bobbing. "You
were in bad shape. Seeing you there, lying motionless..." His face turned a
deep red. Was he getting mad? "I-I thought I was going to lose you... This is
all my fault."
I stopped him from blaming himself. "No." My heart raced. I was angry
with him because he lied to me. But that was unrelated. I walked away. I
left on my own. He wasn't... driving? Not his car. So, it couldn't be his fault.
But I don’t remember the honking. Just the screeching tires, the driving
away, and then him pulling up. I was so confused.
"I-I... The car sped off. I think?"
Joseph stroked my hand, but there was an edge in his voice. "Whoever
did this to you... Karma is coming their way? I promise you that, babe."
I knew someone had hit me with their car and just drove off. But
Joseph confirmed it was intentional. The idea that someone might've
actually wanted me dead hadn't even crossed my mind. Or if it had, I hadn’t
processed it yet.
A doctor in a white coat entered, pausing to look at the chart by my
bed. "Hello, can you confirm your name for me?"
"M-Mira Harris."
"I'm Dr. Mitchell. Can you tell me what happened?"
"I was hit by a car."
Dr. Mitchell nodded. "You've got a mild concussion and a linear skull
fracture, which neurology will address with you later and two broken legs, a
comminuted and compound fracture. The right one's very serious and will
need surgery."
I burst into tears, and I had no time to really react.
Joseph stared at me, then at the doctor. "What’s the diff between those
two fractures?"
 Dr. Mitchell adjusted his glasses. "A comminuted fracture means the
bone breaks into several pieces. A compound fracture, on the other hand,
refers to when the bone breaks through the skin. Both require attention, but
the latter has a risk of infection due to its open nature." He looked back over
at me. "A surgeon will be in soon to discuss the next steps with you. But
please remember, you're in good hands."
Both Joseph and I shook our heads, overwhelmed.
"We'll take good care of you." Dr. Mitchell reassured. "Before I go,
how is your pain?"
"All over the place..." My voice trembled. The thought of surgery
scared the crap out of me. I'd heard about people going under the knife. It
never seemed that bad. Only I never imagined it happening to me. What if...
what if I never woke up?
"We'll get the nurse to adjust your morphine." The door clicked shut
behind him. Joseph and I were alone. Joseph swallowed, his Adam's apple
bobbing. I released a breath I hadn't realized that I was holding. Neither of
us spoke. It was too much. Before I could even gather my thoughts, a nurse
entered, checking my vitals, and administering the promised pain relief.
Then she was gone, too.
It felt like hours, but was probably only minutes when the doctor came
back.
"We are about to take you back for surgery."
"What will happen? Tell me what surgery? Will I die?"
"We're going to take care of the breaks—clean everything up and make
sure it heals right." In simple terms, just how I needed it. But I was scared
shitless.
I blinked as the nurse prepared an IV. "We'll take care of you. You're in
good hands."
Joseph squeezed my hand. "I’ll be here when you wake up."
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"I'm not going anywhere, babe."
"Can you... can you call my family? Tell them what's happening?"
He nodded. "I had picked up your purse at the scene, so I have your
phone. I'll get a hold of them."
I hadn’t even thought about my purse. There was so much going on.
I mouthed a weak "Thank you." I just needed to keep my mind focused.
 As they began to wheel me away, the surrounding sound all blurred
together, making Joseph seem more distant. What would Dad think? Mom?
Did she even care? Tiffany, Sierra… What would all of them think?
In the operating room, they listed off all the risk factors to me, but I just
vaguely remembered any of the details.
Then, yet another doctor appeared. There was so many. "Hello, Mira.
I'm Dr. Phillips, your anesthesiologist for today. I'll be ensuring that you're
comfortable and asleep during your procedure. You might feel a slight
coolness in your IV as I administer the medication. Just take deep breaths
and think of a pleasant memory."
I tried. Closed my eyes. Tried to remember something good. A beach?
Waves? And someone laughing. Joseph? Maybe. Then, slowly, everything
faded.

OceanofPDF.com
 TWENTY FIVE
Joseph

2006

I pulled my jacket tighter against the chill. The clock above the hospital
doors was a drumbeat, relentless and unforgiving. Just keep it together,
been through tighter spots.
Mira's image haunted me—her anger, the accident, the harrowing drive
here. Six years ago, now. My dad had been drunk and walking across the
street when he was hit, and he died three hours later in the hospital. But
Mira... she wasn't to blame for any of this. And yet here she was, broken but
battling. Seeing her like that, alive yet so fragile, I was torn between relief
and gut-wrenching guilt.
She wasn't herself. She was confused, but all I could do was stand
there, useless, as they wheeled my Mira away. She had been so upset when
she found the stash of ecstasy. I'd been hiding in the bathroom
understandably so. Why did I get involved in all that?
Easy money, I'd told myself, just enough to keep Mom and me from
being homeless. Dad... He used to hustle to make sure there was food on the
table. He tried really hard to not let on just how tough things were.
But for me, a few deals here and there were how it all started. Mom
was always in and out of work. Instead of going to work, she’d be drowning
in drugs and bad company, it was on me to keep our heads above water.
That and the social security she had been receiving until recently. The
pressure to make money any way possible was on my mind. And I spent
way more than I should have.
I had told Mira the whole story about working construction, but that
was a lie. My lies were catching up with me. I needed to believe once she
was of clear mind, she'd forgive me, that I could smooth this over, and
things could go back to the way they were before.
My phone rang. Startled, I fumbled to retrieve it from my pocket. The
caller ID flashed Mom. I sighed. She never called unless she needed
something. Honestly, I didn’t feel up to dealing with her right now. All I had
at the moment was time and a gnawing dread. Maybe this could be a
distraction? Reluctantly, I answered.
"Joey? Where are you?” she blurted before I could even get out a hello.
“I got home. Checked my messages and found a message about some
emergency. What happened?"
I was shaking. "Mira had an accident, Mom. She's in surgery and it
feels like my fault."
There was a pause. "What do you mean? Did you do something?"
"No, not directly. But... if she hadn’t found out what she did, she
wouldn’t have left in such a hurry.” I felt hot. "I swear, Mom, whoever did
this to her, they won't get away with it."
"Are you sure it wasn’t just some random accident?"
“I saw it, Mom. It was a hit-and-run. ‘Random’ doesn’t describe it.”
Her response sounded forced. "I'm sorry, Joey." I expected her to
understand, to remember Dad's accident. But her tone was off. Didn’t she
care about Mira at all? Why was she being so cold?
I frowned. Now I was annoyed and just wanted her to get to the point.
"Why did you call, Mom? Really?"
She sighed. "I need money, Joey. I’m in a bit of a tight spot. A hundred
should do. Help your mom out."
"Really, Mom? Now? Mira's in surgery, and you're worried about
money?" I could feel my anger rising.
"I didn't know about Mira before I called! I thought... forget it. I'll
figure it out. Ring me when you're ready to play the good son."
"Yeah, you do that," I said coldly and hung up.
Why couldn't she get her act together and be the adult for once? I was
done picking up her slack. I kept trying to keep things together for Mom
and me. But maybe it was time to just let the pieces fall. Everything with
Mira was a brutal reminder that maybe I just gotta let go. She's the only
thing that matters right now.
I really didn't want to make this call, but I'd promised Mira. God, why
did these situations always make me so nervous?
Digging out Mira's Razr from my pocket, I flipped through her
contacts. Her dad? No chance. That guy's always given me the stink eye.
And Sierra? Drama city. Her mom was like a ghost to me, never met her.
So, Tiffany, the kid sister, was my go-to.
 My fingers hesitated a bit before dialing Tiffany's number. Each ring
made my heart race faster, and all I could think was, "Please pick up."
"Hello? What now, Mira? It’s like super early. Can't you see I'm busy?
I’m studying. Finals next week, something..."
"It's... uh, it's Joseph. I'm calling from Mira's phone."
There was a muffled sound like she was talking to someone in the
background. "What's going on? Why do you have her phone? Where's
Mira?"
I took a deep breath, my throat tight. "Mira’s had an accident, a hit-and-
run. It's bad, Tiffany. I was there and saw the whole thing. She's in surgery
as we speak."
"Oh my God!" Tiffany gasped, and I could hear shuffling and faint
murmurs in the background. It sounded like she was relaying the
information to someone, probably their mother.
"Okay, okay. We will come, but it might take us a while. We'll have to
get a taxi." I then remembered her mother's DUI. So, she probably had a
temporary suspension on her license.
"I can swing by and get you. She will be in surgery for a while, so...
yeah. I got time."
In the background, I heard Tiffany's raised voice. "He's offering to pick
us up. No, Mira's still under." After a moment she said, "All right. See you
soon, Joseph."
"Okay, that sounds good. See ya soon."
Hanging up, I hoped Mira wouldn't be too upset about her mother
coming. Mira and her mom didn’t have the best relationship, but family's
family, right? As for her dad... well, I’ll let Tiffany drop that bombshell.
Before I left, I gave a heads up to the nurse, saying I'd be back soon with
Mira's family.
I kept driving until Mira’s old house was just up ahead. Meeting her
mother for the first time was intimidating. Mira had described her as less
than pleasant, recounting their clashes and the day her mother slapped her.
Mira admitted to provoking her, but that doesn't justify a child feeling
abandoned and unloved.
I turned the corner, and there it was, Mira’s former house. Tiffany and
her mom were out front. Even from a distance, her presence was as
commanding as Mira said—hair wild, like the wind had a score to settle
with it. But otherwise, she looked put together, with a stance that dared you
to say something about it. Her eyes were sharp. I would have honestly
avoided her any other time based on that.
I pulled over, taking a moment to brace myself. You could really tell
where Mira got her spirit from. She was the spitting image of her mother.
Before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, Tiffany was already making
her way to the car. She swung the passenger door open. "Mom, this is
Joseph!" she shouted, trying to bridge the gap between us. Her mom looked
like she wanted to be anywhere but here. I couldn’t blame her—getting a
ride from your daughter's boyfriend whom you’ve never met? That's
awkward.
"Hey, Tiffany." I greeted her with a nod as she swung the back door
open and hopped in.
Mira's mom seemed to be battling every instinct, telling her to turn and
flee. She rubbed the back of her neck and slipped into the seat usually
reserved for Mira. "I'm Sherry," she introduced herself.
"Joseph," I answered, with the handshake of a gentleman and a grin to
match. "Wish it was under better circumstances." I forced a smile, thinking
that if Sherry warmed up to me, it might help Mira in the long run.
Praying silently, I put the car in drive, hoping for the best.
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
Sherry cleared her throat. "So, how did you and Mira meet?"
I took a deep breath, thinking about how much I wanted to spill. "Yeah,
we had math and geometry together. Both were kinda lame." I began
recalling the day Mira first caught my eye. "She noticed my handwriting, so
I slipped her a note. Kind of cheesy, I know. It sounds like something from
middle school. But during some boring ass math presentation on I can't
even remember what, we kept looking at each other. I mentioned her
earrings later, and she told me she made them. I thought that was pretty
cool. After a while, she started showing up at my football games. We hung
out more, and things just kinda happened between us."
I intentionally left out how we skipped class, the lazy afternoons, the
drives around town, and my bouts with alcohol. She probably already heard
about Mira and my night at the club, thanks to Mark.
“She was looking way better than how she ended up at that crash. And
she’d want you here, trust me.” I said it to make her feel better, but deep
down, I was crossing my fingers.
 She smiled weakly. “Thanks for being there for her. I’m so glad she’s
better than she was.” She turned to Tiffany. "Any luck getting a hold of
your father?" There was an edge to her voice. Frankly, it was clear she
couldn't stand him. But then, who could? Every time I dropped Mira off
after our dates, he shot me that judgmental stare. I tried to break the ice at
her birthday party, hoping he'd ease up, but it didn't work.
Sierra wasn’t any better. They both seemed so high and mighty. At least
I wasn’t the one who had to spill the beans about Mira’s situation.
"It keeps going to voice mail. I texted him saying Mira was in the
hospital. What if he gets mad finding out that way?"
"If he throws a tantrum over a text, it's his own darn fault for not
picking up," was Sherry's response.
Exiting the car, I noticed Tiffany clutching her mother's hand tightly.
Could Mira seeing her mom here help their relationship?
Heading into the hospital, the receptionist checked her logbook and
directed us to the waiting room. Mira was still in surgery. Man, I hope she's
out soon. Sherry sat and said nothing. She kind of sat there and stared.
Tiffany was texting on her flip phone. Mira always joked about how Tiffany
was texting. She couldn’t live without it.
Tiffany stood. “I’m going to go find a bathroom.” And she was off.
Once she was out of sight, Sherry turned to me. “Can I ask you
something?”
I looked at her. “Yes, what’s up?”
She exhaled a breath. “I feel a bit out-of-place bringing this up,
especially since we've only met. But how do you handle Mira’s... let's say,
particularities? Her need for meticulousness and order? And her occasional
mood swings? It's been a consistent point of friction between us for years.”
The disapproval in her tone was clear, matching the stories I'd heard.
I shrugged. “To be honest, I hadn’t really noticed it as an issue. She
finds comfort in order, a sense of control. It's her way of navigating stress.
As for her moods, I’ve learned to read between the lines—to understand the
reasons behind her reactions. It’s rarely about the surface issue, wouldn’t
you agree? I hope that answers your question.”
Sherry nodded. "I shouldn’t have brought this up with you. It’s
inappropriate since we’ve only just met. I’m so sorry."
"It’s all good. But there is a lot more to Mira than her tidiness and
organization. My CD collection and my car's sound system have never been
so well-arranged. But anyway, I’ll leave it at that."
I was confused. Mira made Sherry sound so different. But I knew looks
could be deceiving. Who knew what went on behind closed doors between
Mira and her mother? From what I could tell, Sherry seemed cool. I didn’t
get it. Was this all an act? But if Mira said it was this bad, it must be
especially if she's choosing to live with her father, who is one big prick.
Then there was a notification from Mira’s phone. I looked at it. It was
from her step sister, Leah.
Where is everyone? Mom and your dad went out last night and still
aren’t back. They aren’t answering their phone. I’m scared. Please come
home.
I glanced up at Sherry, who was gazing out into nowhere. I was unsure
about what to say to Leah. Honestly, where the hell were Mark and Leah’s
mother? Tiffany returned and stared at me and the phone. “Anyone text
Mira? Is it our dad?”
I shook my head. “It’s from Leah.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes, and I saw Sherry smirk. “What’s Leah whining
about now? Trying to make Mira's day even worse with her endless
nonsense?”
I didn’t share in her humor and Sherry noticed and stopped smiling.
“Sounds like both Mark, your dad, sorry, and Sierra went out last night,
and didn’t come home at all, leaving her home alone and not answering her
phone.”
Sherry's jaw tightened. “Yeah, what wonderful, responsible people they
are.”
I ignored her. "I don't know what to say to her."
Sherry stared at me for a moment. "Just tell her the truth. Despite what
Tiffany might say about her, she’s only, what, twelve or thirteen? It's not
right to leave her to worry herself crazy. But hey, if she keeps blowing up
their phones, maybe they'll remember they're adults and actually answer.”
I drafted a response to Leah. Hey Leah, this is Joseph. Mira's in the
hospital. Could you try reaching out to her dad? I read it out to Sherry and
Tiffany for their thoughts. Once they both confirmed it was good, I sent it.
Now we just had to wait.
All I really wanted was to be by Mira's side.

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 TWENTY SIX
Mark
2006
I cradled my throbbing head. Morning came, and I was still in my clothes
from the previous night—a charcoal grey suit, the kind that never wrinkled,
shirt untucked, and collar askew. My head pounded, and my vision
wouldn’t clear, no matter how many times I rubbed my eyes.
It was clear I couldn't handle my liquor like I did twenty years ago. I
glanced over at Sierra. She was asleep; her face relaxed. She slept through it
all, just as I had planned.
I had rented this room, with a nice view overlooking the river for us, so
we could enjoy a necessary break. The night started that way, but my
thoughts had been elsewhere.
Joseph Oliver—of all the people Mira could have gotten involved with
—it had to be him. I blamed myself for not intervening earlier and for not
tackling the issue head-on. His decision to take my underage daughter to a
nightclub, when he wasn't much older, was enough to show he was trouble.
As I adjusted my shirt collar, I attempted to piece together my actions
from the previous night. I knew that Sierra took a sleeping pill every night
to help her sleep. So, when she wasn’t looking, I slipped one into her drink.
The whole night I had no intentions of going anywhere, but my mind
couldn’t stop thinking about Joseph fucking Oliver.
But in desperation to end Joseph and Mira's relationship before they
got too close, I made the decision to reach out to Lotus. Lotus was a wild
card. Passionate. Fun. Life of the party. We'd shared an intense affair many
years ago. I was at a random bar after one of Sherry's and my arguments.
All it took was a casual glance that lasted a second too long, and before
I knew it, Lotus had wrapped me around her finger. With Sherry and me
constantly at odds, especially about Mira, and Sherry's growing insecurities
about God knew what, I found myself wanting that escape. Lotus told me
she liked me and deserved to have fun once in a while. So, that was what
happened.
 I was so into my own desires that I started to get sloppy. I would spend
lots of money on my credit cards. The start of the end was when Sherry
discovered the lingerie, a gift meant for Lotus. She was so sure I was
cheating that it took everything in me to convince her it was to spice up our
marriage. She was excited. For a brief moment, I saw the excitement return
to Sherry's eyes, the same spark that had once drawn us together. But sadly,
it was short-lived.
In the end, my marriage to Sherry crumbled, and I decided to end the
marriage. I found love again with Sierra, and I couldn't bear to lose her.
So, after I confirmed Lotus did what she had promised, she'd agreed to
help, but her terms... they sent shivers down my spine. The mere thought of
revealing the truth to Mira filled me with dread. Yet, the alternative of
discovering my secret under less controlled circumstances was far worse.
Lotus assured me she'd handled it.
So, I was still trying to remember what happened after I left last night.
My intentions I remembered, but the execution was still in bits and pieces.
After making sure Sierra had been asleep, I had met Lotus at a seedy
bar, where even the entrance had hinted at illegal activities. In my
profession, a mere whiff of scandal would have spelled the end of my
career. To avoid drawing attention, Lotus and I had sat in her car: a red,
rusted Chevrolet Cavalier. My BMW would have stood out too much.
Sitting close to Lotus, the flood of feelings had been overwhelming. I
hadn't been nostalgic for the drama she invariably stirred up, but I couldn't
deny the way she had made me feel about myself—it had been intoxicating.
We had sat in the back of her car, in a corner of a parking lot a few
blocks from the seedy bar. I had given in. If I had been sober, and hadn't
remembered the great nights we used to have, I might have been able to
resist.
Not that I had had any choice. But I would be lying if I hadn’t enjoyed
it. But it would never happen again after last night.
But Lotus, with her knack for creative problem-solving, had already
been weaving her magic. She had had a way of untangling knots, and the
Joseph and Mira dilemma had just been another challenge for her. "Oh,
don't worry, I'll go and deal with your problem. By tomorrow those two
won't be together, mark my words." She had reached over and kissed me.
"But for right now, relax."
 Somewhere in the back of my mind, though, thoughts of Sherry had
lingered. Our love had been real, but never quite enough, and I had cheated
on her. Then there was Sierra. I hadn't been looking for an escape from the
arguing. I just needed to stop my daughter from making the biggest mistake
of her life. I needed my phone to confirm if Lotus had defused the threat
Joseph posed to my daughter.
Sierra's eyes flew open, darting from corner to corner of the unfamiliar
room. Her breath quickened. "What... where am I?"
"We drank too much last night and thought it was safer to stay here," I
assured her.
She squinted at me, trying to piece together the evening. "I remember
having one too many glasses of wine, and more at the bar downstairs. Did
we?"
I nodded. "Yeah, we thought it was best not to drive."
Sierra's face turned pale. "Oh no! Leah! I left her home alone and was
supposed to check in on her. We should've called a babysitter if we were
going to stay out!"
She rifled through her purse, emptying it faster than usual. After
finding her phone, she scrolled through it. Her face paled. "There are so
many missed calls from Leah. She is probably freaking out right about
now."
"She’s probably just got worried when we didn't come back. Just call
her back and tell her you'll be home soon."
Sierra called Leah. “It’s going straight to voicemail,” she told me, panic
on the edge of her voice. She tried a few more times. “Same thing. Mark,
what should I do?”
"Maybe she's just asleep," I suggested, loosening, and ripping off my
tie. It was so warm in here. I started hoping against hope that everything
was okay.
I checked my phone, noting missed calls from Leah, a few from
Tiffany, and even one from… Sherry? My stomach twisted, but I pushed the
feeling away, focusing on keeping calm for Sierra's sake. A text from Lotus
was like a punch to the gut—Mira and Joseph were AWOL. I broke into a
cold sweat.
"We need to go home and check on Leah," Sierra exclaimed, though I
could tell she was trying to pull herself together.
 I nodded. "Of course. Let's head there right away. But first, I should
check my texts. Tiffany was also trying to get a hold of me."
The message from Tiffany made my heart drop: "You're not answering
your phone, Dad. Working as usual. Mira is in the hospital. There was an
accident."
Accident? I knew it wasn't an accident. Mira was fine when she went
out with Joseph last night. Now she was in the hospital? The rage I felt.
Joseph. That boy had been trouble from the start, and I'd let it slide for
far too long. I had been a shitty father, and I didn't want to risk alienating
her when I had just got her to trust me. The truth was I thought for sure
she'd see her worth and dump him. But she didn’t and talked about them
moving in together. I couldn't risk it. But I was too late. I should have talked
to Lotus sooner. I should have put a stop to this before Mira's eighteenth
birthday. There were so many regrets.
But right now, Joseph Oliver better pray he didn't do anything to her, or
he'd have to answer to me.
I swallowed hard. "Sierra, Mira's in the hospital." My voice was barely
a whisper. "Sherry tried calling too."
Sierra's posture tightened as if that would change anything. "We must
go to the hospital. Now!”
"I'll drop you off at home first as it’s on the way." I practically dragged
her to the door.
She followed me through the hotel and into the parking lot. We stepped
over the receipt from my payment in full last night. I didn’t care.
I had parked my car recklessly the night before, occupying two spaces.
A tree and fence hid it from view. I couldn't recall coming back from the bar
where I met Lotus. I prayed Sierra hadn't noticed not only was I not parked
where we were previously, but I was parked like an idiot.
At this moment, all I wanted was to make sure Mira was okay.

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 TWENTY SEVEN
Mira
2006

I woke up in a room. Joseph was beside me. He greeted me with a simple,

"Hey."
My voice was rough. "Joseph?"
He smiled. "Yes, it's me. How do you feel?"
I blinked. "I'm pretty tired." Truth was, I felt completely exhausted, as
if I could fall asleep at any moment. But I remembered asking him to
inform my family. "Did you... tell anyone?" I let it sink in. I had undergone
surgery. Who else was aware? Joseph avoided looking at me.
I felt uneasy. "What happened?"
He exhaled deeply. "I reached out to Tiffany. She tried getting a hold of
your dad, but he hasn’t called back or shown up yet. She told your mom,
and they both came."
I blinked, each blink feeling like an eternity. My mother? Here? It was
almost too much to process. I saw her not too long ago, and our last
conversation didn't end on the best note. But she came to see me? I had
expected, or at least hoped, eventually she would reach out. Despite our
strained relationship, the fact that she showed up here really made me feel a
million times better.
Joseph held my hand. "Do you want to see her? The nurse mentioned a
one visitor rule. I can let her in if you want."
I nodded. "Yeah.” In the hospital, I had the option of asking her to
leave if she upset me. But I felt this was an opportunity. She came because
she wanted to.
Joseph left, and I’m not sure how much time passed. I dozed off and
on. When I opened my eyes, my mother had appeared in the doorway. I was
immobilized by the c-collar and surrounded by countless medical
equipment, but at least the oxygen mask was off.
 There she stood. The woman I had last seen in a haze of alcohol and
anger, now looking almost... rejuvenated? It was both comforting and
somewhat unsettling.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she approached my bedside. "Hi,
Mira.”
"Mom."
Silence.
I cried. I didn't know what to feel. This was so foreign. Mom shifted
from foot to foot. Maybe she also didn't know what to think, especially
since I was here crying. We both were like water and oil. The truth was, I
didn't know how else to react.
She took a seat to my left. Her fingers fidgeted with the second button
on her shirt. It was out of place and bothered me. "How are you feeling? Do
you remember what happened?"
A weak chuckle escaped me, given the absurdity of the situation. "I'm
pretty doped up." Was she for real? "Yeah, and I-I got hit by a car."
She nodded, allowing a long silence to ensue. Was this what it took for
her to appreciate our relationship? Because I was expecting some kind of
sarcastic comment, gesture, something. This felt out of place.
I broke the silence. "How's everything with you? All good?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Better. I don't like how you saw me last. I
hope no one ever sees me like that again."
"I hope not, too. I like you better like this."
She smiled. I smiled. It was the first genuine, heart-warming moment, I
thought.
Yet, as the stillness returned, my gaze drifted back to that undone
button on her blouse. I looked away. I wasn't going to mention it. I wasn't
going to ruin this peace. Mom never understood my ways.
Clearing her throat, she finally spoke. "I met Joseph."
I tensed. Oh, no. Had he said something wrong? Did he make a good
impression?
She seemed to mull over her words, choosing them carefully. "He
seems like a good young man. Very respectful."
She seemed genuinely… impressed?
 I felt instant relief. I smiled through my drug-induced haze. "I'm glad
you think so."
A nurse entered the room. I was kind of glad because it gave me a
moment to deal with the overwhelming feeling inside. She checked the
machines around me and scribbled something on her clipboard.
"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, casting a professional eye over
me.
"Better than I expected."
Mom brushed some hair away from her face. “So, what exactly kind of
surgery did she have?”
The nurse looked at me. I told her she was my mother and to answer
whatever she wanted to know.
The nurse paused, her eyes scanning the chart. "Your surgery—open
reduction and internal fixation—was quite involved. They repositioned the
bones in your leg, securing them with metal plates and screws. The surgeon
will visit later, and any further questions can be addressed than.”
My legs felt instantly tingly. I was too out of it to really ask what
exactly the surgery all entailed. If they had explained it, I sure as hell didn’t
remember.
“Can I get you anything for pain?” the nurse continued.
I shook my head.
The nurse jotted something down. “Right away, we’re moving you into
a room on the ward. Your vitals look good. I’ll be back in a few.”
Once she disappeared, Mom turned to me. “Did they tell you anything
else?”
I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. “Something about my other
leg, too. They mentioned physical therapy and being wheelchair bound for a
bit in the recovery room. Maybe ask Joseph—my memory’s fuzzy. He
heard most of it.”
Mom didn’t say anything else.
“I just don’t know what I’ll do with my time.” I regretted saying it as
soon as it came out of my mouth. It was baiting Mom to say something
snarky in response. “I could catch up on reading, or watch reality
television.” I felt myself trying to salvage the situation before she even had
a chance to respond.
“You’ll adjust. You have everyone to help you. It won’t be so bad…”
At Dad’s house, I’m sure Sierra and even Leah would pick up the
slack. A messy house would drive me insane. “Yeah.”
Mom fidgeted with the collar of her shirt, and I noticed her necklace—
the pendant, specifically. It was familiar. Mom had worn it years ago… and
then something clicks. Sierra had worn one very similar to it at the
nightclub. My heart raced. Did Dad give Sierra the same necklace he once
bought for Mom? I wanted to confront her with this question, but it would
only upset her, and I was too tired for that right now.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
I struggled to keep my eyelids from drooping. "Just tired. Really tired."
I lied. Well, not a total lie, because my eyelids were heavy.
A phone buzzed and Mom checked it. She sighed. “Tiffany is freaking
out. Said Leah, I assume that is your dad’s new step-daughter, showed up.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Tiffany is going to flip on her. They don’t get
along, and I don’t need this right now.”
Mom gave a nod. "Sure, I'll swoop in to save Leah from Tiffany's
wrath. No ulcers for Sierra on my watch." She said with sarcasm as she
stood.
She brought up Sierra again. I needed to get her mind off of her. I’d
rather Mom made fun of me than be angry at Dad’s girlfriend, who she had
never met before in her life.
“Maybe now that I can’t go on a cleaning spree, we might get along,
hey?” I blurted out, more out of a desperate need to fill the silence with
something, anything, than actual sarcasm. I wasn't sure what I was hoping
for - a sharp retort, a dismissive shrug, anything that would give me a
clearer sense of where we stood. It was better than her subjecting me to her
insecure thoughts about Dad's girlfriend.
Mom gave me a look, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "No matter
how messed up things have been, Mira, I want you to understand something
—I love you, even if we don’t understand each other. I hope you feel better
soon."
 I nodded as Mom left the room. I was glad she mentioned the huge
elephant in the room. She didn’t understand me. I didn’t understand her.
She acknowledged it, but it still didn’t change that there was a disconnect
and that she still didn’t really like me. But it was a step in the right
direction. Especially when Sierra and Mom come head-to-head. My mind
raced—had Dad really given Sierra the same necklace as Mom years ago?
The question clawed at me, but I buried it. Now wasn't the time.

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 TWENTY EIGHT
Joseph
2006

Mira's mother appeared to deal with preventing Leah and Tiffany from any
potential blow out between the two, so I snuck back to sit with Mira. She
looked wiped out. I hesitated, but then figured it was best to just get it over
with.
"How were things with your mom?"
She smiled weakly and shook her head. "No, it actually went okay,
surprisingly. It was just awkward. Acknowledged we are different. She likes
you."
"That's good to hear. It just looks like something else is bothering you."
I took her hand and smiled, hoping to lighten her mood. If she was smiling,
then all the guilt and sorrow I was feeling would be better. She seemed
more like herself, less out of it, which was a relief.
Then she fixed her gaze on me. "Do you remember that night at the
nightclub? When my dad caught us... and Sierra was there?"
I nodded. "I doubt he's ever forgiven me for taking you there. But
what's going on?"
Mira continued, her voice a hushed whisper. "Sierra was wearing a
necklace that night—I told you it looked familiar, right?" I nodded, and she
went on. "I saw my mom with the same necklace just now. I think... I think
my dad might've bought it for her. Could he really be so callous as to give
his new girlfriend the same necklace he gave my mom?"
"How long has your dad and Sierra been an item again?"
I wasn’t entirely sure what Mira was on about, but I tried to put the
pieces together because she was clearly in no condition to do so. If Mark
had the nerve to judge me for taking Mira out for a time, meanwhile, he was
out there cheating and ditching his family for another woman. That was just
hypocritical. My old man, when he was still alive, had his faults, but even
he wouldn't stoop that low. "I don’t know their full story, babe. But they’re
acting like they’ve been tight for a while, not just since he split from your
mom."
Mira took a deep breath. "Near the end… before he left, I mean… he
stayed late at work a lot. And he admitted he met Sierra around the same
time he left my mom."
I let out a deep breath, rolling the information around in my head. "So,
he checked out of the marriage with your mom before Sierra even came into
the picture," I said. It sounded like Sierra was just the excuse he needed to
make his exit official.
I chewed on the thought, my mind drifting to Leah. Her sudden drop in
could be a twist of luck. She might have some pieces to the puzzle of Sierra
and Mira's dad's past. "Hey, Mira," I started, a plan forming, "how about
you hang with Tiffany for a bit while I grab something from my car?"
She narrowed her eyes, but then nodded. "Yeah, I'd like to see her. You
go do what you need to do," she whispered.
She didn't trust me. But who could blame her?
I nodded and headed for the door to the waiting area. Tiffany was there
with her mom, and there was Leah, off to the side.
"Tiffany, Mira's asking for you." I watched her roll her eyes before she
stalked off to Mira's room. Some things between sisters never changed.
I approached Leah, sliding into the space Tiffany had just vacated.
"How are you holding up?"
She looked at me as if she was about to cry. "Will Mira be okay?"
I had ways to smooth things over, but tears weren't one of them. "She
will be all right."
Leah smiled half-heartedly. "Promise?"
I smiled back because smiling always seemed to be the answer. "I
promise." I needed to get her away from Mira's mom. "How about we hit
the cafeteria? I'll buy you something to eat. You must be starving."
Leah jumped up. "I haven't eaten, like, at all. Mom and Mark were out
all night and they're not picking up their phones." Then she slouched. "What
if they show up here and I'm not here?"
Mira's mom seemed upset about something else, but I asked her
anyway. "Could you tell Leah's mom and Mark we'll be in the cafeteria if
they show up?"
She gave a short nod. "Don't worry."
As we made our way to the cafeteria, Leah quizzed me about Mira.
"What's really going on? You can be honest. I'm tough like her. Mira's not
the chatty type. She's quiet and likes being alone. But she's super sweet. So,
I got to know. Is she going to be okay, for real?"
I frowned, that guilt easing its way back. "Yes, she is pretty awesome.
But I promise you, she'll be fine. You can even ask her when we get back.
Would that help?"
She nodded. "As soon as you told me, I had to come. So, I stole a few
dollars from my mom's change box in her closet. I hopped the bus and came
all the way here. I remember looking up the bus routes one time on the
computer in Mira's dad's office. Anyway, I came here because I needed to
make sure she was all right. Staying home alone with no one answering
their phones scared me. Like, did they forget about me? And about Mira?
They went out for supper and drinks. There was some band playing or
something. I overheard Tiffany tell her mom, who was standoffish, that she
was wondering where her dad was. Which is surprising after how she
totally lost her god damn mind on him before moving back with her mom."
Maybe finding out what I needed wouldn't be so hard after all. I didn’t
ask her anything at all, even.
As we reached the cafeteria, "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira was playing
in the background. What an odd change from the smooth jazz in the waiting
room. Maybe the hospital wanted to cheer up the people in here, who, like
us, were probably waiting to hear about the status of their loved ones, too. I
got her a drink and some chips, and Leah opened up. "Mark's been, like,
super amazing. It's been way better since he's been around," she said, a
lightness in her voice that spoke of the comfort she found in the new
stability.
I nodded, the shadows growing longer around us. "Sounds like he's
made a big difference in your life," I murmured, steering the conversation
with a subtle touch, an undercurrent of purpose beneath the casual veneer.
Leah giggled. “Oh yeah, it’s been like forever! Mom and I got a new
place with him about..." She squinted up at the sky and did this funny thing
where she counted the months on her fingers. , "At least a year ago, maybe
longer. Mira moved in about a year after that. Yeah, a year.”
“I’m glad Mark is good to you." I wondered if he had moved in with a
woman he just met, but before I could figure out how to ask that, Leah
volunteered the information freely.
"Mom met Mark at this ginormous conference a couple of years ago,
right? She was all into him, like big time. Told me to be on my best
behavior and even bribed me with a twenty. Dunno why she didn't just
leave me at home, though. She was so sneaky about it, like a detective on a
case. She 'bumped into' him at the snack table, all flirty and stuff. She even
grabbed his tie and was like, 'Wow, cool tie, looks super sharp.' I mean, she
totally had him eating out of her hand. She laughed at all his lame jokes—
but just between us, the guy’s no comedian.”
So, Sierra approached Mark? And it didn’t sound like it was by chance.
Hmm?
Then, without prompting, Leah took a handful of chips, stuffed them in
her mouth, and continued. “But that night, it was like I was invisible, you
know? They were totally into each other. Mom got a babysitter to take me
home, and she stayed with him. Next day, she's all bubbly, telling me how
Mark's gonna change our lives. Super weird, right?”
Okay, so a few years prior, he started an affair with Sierra. He was
lying to Mira, right to her face. But how the hell could I tell her this when
I’m also a liar? She already found out in the worst way about me—what
would she do about her dad?
But yet Leah continued. I expected her to be informative, but not this
open. This kind of made me scared of how naïve she was. Especially when
we barely knew each other. "And Mark, oh boy, he was like, showering
Mom with gifts. Jewelry, flowers, fancy dresses, all that stuff. Said he
worked hard and enjoyed making people he cared about happy. He even got
me a PS three and this charm bracelet." She showed me the bracelet, a few
charms shy of completion. "When he moved in, he said we were his new
family. Felt kinda nice, like having a dad, since I never knew mine. Mom
didn't talk about him much. But with Mark, everything changed. He kept
saying he'd never been happier. Kinda cool, huh? But, I dunno, something
always felt off, like there was more to the story. Just can't put my finger on
it."
I smiled at her, even though I was fuming on the inside. Leah was
clueless, and I wasn't about to shatter her world. "Are you finished eating?"
Leah nodded. "Yes, thank you so much. Should we go back? Maybe I
can see Mira before Mark and Mom make it there."
"I'm sure she'll like that."
Walking back, I mulled over my thoughts about Mark. He was
deceitful, but that was hardly surprising in my world. What irked me was
his attitude towards me. Mark saw me as the lowest of the low, judging me
without acknowledging his hypocrisy. He didn't consider the impact on
Mira when he left his family for Leah and her mother. Mira was forgiving,
but Mark looked at me as if I were scum. I had my faults, some that came
back to bite me, but at least I owned them and was trying to make things
right. But Mark? Was he truly remorseful? One thing was for sure, he was a
coward.

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 TWENTY NINE
Mark
2006

Where the hell was Leah? She wasn’t at home. I had to turn around and go
pick up Sierra after she called, freaking out. Could that girl ever just stay
put? Could she ever fail to make some impulsive decision not to get up and
go somewhere and not take her phone? One minute she was worried, and
the next minute she ran off without a care in the world.
Sierra sat beside me, twirling her hair in her fingers, lost in thought, as
she looked out the window.
“Leah's got nine lives; she lands on her feet. You'll see, she'll waltz in
with a story to tell.”
Sierra flinched.
“Huh?”
“Leah is fine. She’ll show up after she is done doing whatever she does
when she gets sidetracked,” I said. “Maybe she just went to a friend’s house
when she saw we didn’t come home last night…”
Sierra swallowed. “Yeah, you’re right. But her timing couldn’t have
been worse. With Mira…”
I tried calling Tiffany a few more times, and it went to voice mail. I
would try Sherry, but she likely was at home, lounging with her fifth cup of
coffee, each with a shot of whiskey. If it was a bad day to be there for Mira.
Tiffany wouldn’t tell me if her mom was off her rockers again, or would
she?
I was a bit scattered when a siren blared behind me. “Shit!” I muttered
under my breath. I pulled over, my thoughts racing. “I wasn’t speeding, I
don’t think.”
“Take a deep breath and act natural,” she said with more conviction
than I had.
I probably was acting natural. My damn daughter was in the hospital,
and here I was, wasting precious time. I had always feared that something
would happen to Mira if she stayed with Joseph. What the hell did he do to
her?
As the officer approached, I could feel the weight of my murky
recollections pressing down on me.
“License and registration,” he asserted, his voice steady.
I swallowed hard, fumbling for my wallet, my mind racing–was I even
sober from last night’s escapades? Sierra retrieved the registration from the
glove compartment, nearly dropping it as I handed over my license.
“Is there a problem, officer?” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“You rolled through a stop sign back there.”
I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’m sorry, officer. My
daughter’s been in an accident; I’m just trying to get to the hospital.”
He took my documents and walked back to his cruiser. Sierra gripped
my thigh tightly, telling me to take a deep breath. I muttered curses, my
mind awash with worry for my daughter and anger at my own helplessness.
When the officer returned, he was not alone; my heart sank at the sight
of the ticket, and his next words took me by surprise. “Considering the
condition of your car, it seems you’ve had a close call yourself. Care to
explain?”
Confused, I stepped out to inspect the damage he had pointed out–a
bent hood and bumper, a dangling bumper, and a shattered headlight. I
cursed again, feeling fragments of a jolt from last night trickling into my
memory. Sierra texted me to stay calm and not to pace about like a caged
animal, just as panic began to claw at me.
The officer observed me, clearly assessing me. “Were you involved in
an incident earlier?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “No, we just had a night out and stayed at
a hotel. I hadn’t see this damage until now. Sierra and I were in a hurry.”
Another police car pulled up, and my heart sank further. The officer got
out and walked to the door of the passenger side.
“How long will this take?” I asked.
“You sure you’re all right to drive?” he questioned. “You seem a bit
agitated, so I have to ask you to perform a field sobriety test,” he stated, his
tone suggesting that this stop was more than routine now.
 I wanted to argue, but I knew better than to pull a stunt like Sherry and
get myself arrested.
I didn't need this right now. I wasn't drunk, and I didn't crash my car. But I
followed the officer’s instructions because a pissed off officer meant
handcuffs and a hell of a lot more issues.
”I need you to walk in a straight line, heel to heel, looking straight
ahead.”
Heels touching toes, I walked a line that only I could see. I hoped no
one would see me.
After making sure my daughter was okay, I would call Lotus and ask her
what the hell had happened last night.
The officer nodded. "At this time, I would like you to recite the
alphabet in reverse order, starting with Z and ending with A, if you would."
I rattled off the letters with ease. The officer watched my every move,
his expression unreadable. Finally, he was done. I just hoped he would
conclude that I was sober, deeming a breathalyzer unnecessary. I wasn’t
confident I could pass it.
“You're not exhibiting signs of intoxication. Just take it easy and watch
those stop signs. And regarding your car's damage, you're required to file a
report. It could be considered a hit-and- run, otherwise.”
Relieved that the officer hadn't found a reason to arrest me, I nodded in
agreement. "Thank you, officer. I'll file the report as soon as I can. I just
need to get to the hospital right now."
Back in the car, I let out a sigh of relief.
“That was something,” Sierra blurted, but it was clear that she was as
relieved as I was.
I clenched my hands around the steering wheel and let out a sigh.
Sierra shuffled in her seat. “Try and take a deep breath. I’m sure the
hotel parking lot has cameras that show someone backing into your car.”
That was just what I was afraid of. I didn’t know what had happened
last night. I don’t remember making it back to the hotel room, only that I
had spent a night I wished I could take back with a woman who should have
remained in my past. I wished I had handled the situation myself.
 The rest of the drive to the hospital was quiet. I needed to keep a
neutral face. Sierra was keeping it together, and so could I. At the hospital, I
was more careful to park in a secluded part of the parking lot away from
other cars. The last thing I needed was for someone else to back into the
back end of my car.
In the emergency room, Sierra and I were directed to the recovery area.
On our way to find Mira, we immediately bumped into Tiffany.
"It's about time you showed up."
I sighed. "I came as soon as I heard." The last thing I needed was to
have an argument about respect with my teenage daughter right now.
Tiffany stared at Sierra. "Why did you bring her?"
"She is here for moral support..." It wasn’t a lie. Mira and Sierra had
gotten close over the last few months, and I needed someone here for me.
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Well, no need. Mom is here. The last thing we
need is for her to see her."
Sierra stiffened beside me. Sherry was here. we didn’t need a
confrontation between Sherry and Sierra. I shuffled from foot to foot.
Sierra bit her lower lip. "I don't want to impose…"
"That is a good idea," Tiffany confirmed.
"Tiffany!" I admonished.
Tiffany shrugged. "What? Sierra can go take her annoying daughter
home."
"Leah’s here?"
Tiffany sighed. "Yeah, she randomly showed up, all worried about
Mira. Like, she is sooo annoying."
Sierra interjected, "Where is she now?"
Tiffany mumbled something. "She is seeing Mira. She has to be sure
that she is okay despite everyone who had seen her telling her she will be
okay. Mira won't be going on any cleaning sprees, but she'll live."
I gave her a sharp look, but she dismissed it.
“Anyway, I could go get Leah so Sierra can take her home. I didn’t rip
her head off.” That was a relief, but it didn't last long because she followed
up with, "Joseph came to her rescue." The words hung heavy in the air, and
I could see the muscles in Sierra's jaw clench. Joseph's name was like a
spark near a powder keg in our family, and I could feel the tension rise
around us.
“Anyway…”
“I’ll stay here,” Sierra insisted. “I don’t want to impose.”
I followed Tiffany toward a row of chairs where Sherry was sitting. I
was about to approach her when I saw Joseph come around the corner.
Joseph locked eyes with me and stopped. He stood up straight, as if he were
expecting my arrival. I guessed this had gotten Sherry’s attention, because
she turned to look at me.
“What did you do to her?” I approached him, angry fists balled at my
side.
Joseph took a defensive stance. “I didn’t do anything to her. I saw it
happen. I was the one who called 911 and saved her life!”
“How the hell did she go from spending the night with you to landing
up here? What kind of guy does that?” I spat two inches from his face.
“Whoa! Back up!” Joseph hissed, taking a step back. “We got into an
argument, and she left. I followed her and saw the car hit her. I called the
ambulance and have been with her the entire time. And where the hell have
you been? Leah said you never even came home last night! What kind of
man abandons his stepdaughter?”
I frowned and backed off. The little punk’s words stung. Yeah, where
the hell was I? Not protecting her, that was for sure. I had warned her. I had
tried to warn her about him, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t say anything as
he aggressively brushed past me.
I stared at Sherry, who was giving that look.
"What?!"
She smirked. “I really don’t know what you don’t like about the guy.
He’s polite, respectful, and clearly loves Mira.”
“He’s the reason she is here!”
Sherry waved me off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You sound
paranoid, just like I used to be. Mira's here because some maniac hit her and
not because of him. And while we're assigning blame, where were you and
your precious Sierra? You should thank him for feeding Leah–the poor kid
was starving–and for keeping Tiffany from losing it because, let's be honest,
she is annoying.”
“I was busy…”
“Must have been really important for both you and the whore.” She
emphasized the last word softly. “I mean, Leah cared more about Mira than
her own ‘father.’”
“Shut up.” I didn’t need this from Sherry. Not after the freaking day I
had had.
She said no more, but that smirk… I wanted so badly for her and Mira
to get along better, and for her to be a better mother to Mira. But now that
she was doing the right thing, I found myself wishing she'd take her new
maternal act and march it back home.
“I’m going to go get Leah, who I’m told is seeing Mira, and send her to
go see her mother.”
Sherry tensed up. “Y-you brought her here? Sierra?”
I threw my hands up. "Yes, deal with it. Sierra and Leah are part of my
life. They're staying. Try some civility, just for today, can you?" I took a
breath. "Where is Mira?"
Sherry shuffled and pointed. "Over there."
What the hell was going on today? Sherry almost always made things
difficult when she was mad, but today really took the cake. Sherry had
every right to hate Sierra, but today she seemed even more bitter than usual.
In the room, Leah was talking about something she had seen on the city
bus. I surmised that that was how she got here. After I got her attention, I
sent her to go find her mom.
"Mira?"
Mira lay there, her face swollen, a tangle of monitors and IVs tubes
surrounding her. I fought the urge to gasp.
Her eyes opened. "Hey, Dad." There was a small smile.
"Sorry, I took so long to get here."
Mira looked at me, her eyes drooping. I wasn’t sure when she’d gotten
out of surgery, but clearly it hadn’t been long. "It's no problem. Mom,
Tiffany, and Joseph are here."
"What happened, sweetie?"
 Tears formed in her eyes. "I got mad at Joseph, decided to leave in the
storm, and was hit by a car... Joseph saw it happen. And..."
As she spoke, a cold realization crept into my mind. The mysterious
damage to my car, the police stop... it couldn't be. But the thought was like
a growing cancer, impossible to ignore.
I was about to ask her if she saw the driver's face when a nurse came
in. "We're moving her to a room soon. If Mira's up to it, detectives want to
speak with her."
Detectives. The word echoed in my head, amplifying my fears. Was it
possible? Could I–or Lotus–have been involved in the accident?

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 THIRTY
Mira
2006

I was moved out of the recovery room. I didn’t have much time to talk to
Dad when the mention of detectives came to mind. Joseph, and I hadn’t had
time to talk about what would happen when they came to interview me and
him. The nurse gave me another shot of morphine and something to help
with the nausea. I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
I slept for a bit, and around an hour after I was moved, there was a
knock on the door. I half expected it to be the detectives; instead, it was
Mom. She walked in and sat to my left, looking worn out. Had she and Dad
been arguing again? Or maybe she and Sierra had made eye contact. I knew
Sierra was here, because Leah had gone to find her earlier. At least, I
thought so. I really couldn’t remember.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as she leaned forward in her chair.
I swallowed hard. “The detectives are supposed to come in here soon.
I-I…” It was so, so hot in here.
She reached over, trying to make me feel better. I started to cry. I had
wanted this kind of care from Mom for so long, and it had taken getting hit
by a car to merit it. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. Was it an act?
Would it last? I wasn’t sure.
“I saw the detectives in the hallway. I thought I’d come in to see if you
needed anything. I-I know things haven’t been great between us, Mira. I-I
really want things to be different. I know this isn’t the time to really talk
about it, but I just want you to know that.”
I nodded just as the door opened again. It seemed like there were a lot
of interruptions happening during tense and emotional moments. A man and
a woman, both in collared shirts and slacks, and with badges at their hips,
walked in.
The taller of the two detectives, an older man, took a step back. “Hello,
Miss Harris. This is Detective Green, and I’m Detective Lopez. We're sorry
to disturb you at this time, Miss Harris. We'll try to make this as brief as
possible. We are here to investigate the hit-and-run you were involved in.
How are you feeling?"
I wiped more sweat from my forehead. “I’ve had better days.” I was
feeling a lot better than when I had first arrived. I could string along a
normal thought and speak a coherent sentence, even though I was
exhausted. There was a fogginess I couldn’t quite explain.
"Would you prefer to speak with us alone?"
I shook my head, no. “I want Mom to stay.” I didn't want to be alone
right now.
The other detective, Green, sat beside me. She had long brown hair,
done up in a bun, and a serious look on her face. “I understand that you
were the victim of a hit-and-run. Could you tell me a bit about what was
happening at the time?”
Mom held my hand: that caught me off guard. I forced myself to look
at the detective. “I-I was out in the storm when I was hit by a car.” I’m sure
they already knew that, but just in case… Why wasn’t I just spitting out
what I knew. Get it over with.
“The paramedics who transported you said you were pretty disoriented
at the scene.” Detective Lopez seemed serious, almost accusatory, which I
didn’t like. “They mentioned speaking to your partner…” he glanced at a
notebook in her hand. “Joseph Oliver? Can you tell us a little more about
that?”
“He saw what happened. I heard the car drive away after hitting me.
Then shortly after I-I heard his car come up.”
Detective Green nodded and wrote something down. “And did you see
the car that hit you?”
I felt on edge, shaking. “I-I saw the lights. I-I…” Memories flooded
back. I had just stood there. That fact came glaring back. I didn’t move out
of the way, and I couldn’t explain why. “I saw the lights,” I repeated and
took a deep breath. My chest was starting to hurt. The dullness in my leg
was growing stronger. Everything was bothering me now. I really wished I
could clean something, despite the sterile hospital room.
 Detective Green's voice broke through my thoughts. “Miss Harris, we
understand that this is a difficult time for you. But we need to ask about the
night of the accident. Did you see your boyfriend’s car?”
I looked at both of them. I couldn’t even be sure who was talking
because I was on high alert. “I was on the ground and saw little. I heard a
car drive away, and the car come back right after. I heard a voice. I’m sorry.
I don’t know what else to share.”
“Our investigation has revealed that it was not a random hit-and-run.
There are indications that this might have been deliberate,” Detective Green
insisted.
“Just the location where the impact took place, for example. You were
found near a sidewalk, with a full view of the street. There was no evidence
of skid marks, which is an indication of someone slamming on the brakes,
trying to avoid a collision. This, along with some other theories we are
exploring,” Detective Lopez said, “including those close to you. We have to
consider everyone, even Joseph.”
Mom, who had been quiet so far, stood up. “That’s absurd. Joseph
picked me and my other daughter, Tiffany, up and took us to the hospital
while Mira was in surgery. His car had no sign of recent damage. So you
can safely put the notion that he was involved out of her mind.”
I felt tears flowing from my eyes. “I should have gotten the hell out of
the way. I should have moved…I should have. I shouldn’t have been out in
the first place. B-but…”
I stopped myself. I was throwing Joseph under the bus. I was admitting
something to Mom, who was still in the room. She was always on me for
overreacting. Was running out in the rain, when it was not safe to do so
because I was angry, just another one of those “moments”. I was shaking
now. I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t know what to think or feel.
My heartbeat pounded, and I felt itchy.
“We just have a few more questions, then you can get some rest. Is that
okay?”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure what else I could honestly tell them that was
relevant, at least.
 “Where were you before the accident?” Detective Lopez was talking
now. I just wished one was talking, and the other was taking notes. It felt
unnecessarily chaotic.
“I was with my boyfriend, Joseph, at his house. We were hanging out.”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell them about the drugs. “Eating
pizza, watching television and other things…”
“Like what?”
I blushed. “You know, other stuff.”
Detective Green smiled. “And what happened after that?”
“We got into an argument. It wasn’t a big deal, but I-I…” I felt like
throwing up.
“What were you arguing about?”
“I don’t feel good. It was a disagreement over something really stupid.
No big deal. I overreacted, which is what I often do when I get easily
annoyed. I was going to go for a walk and come back. That’s it.”
I knew they weren’t going to buy that, but I didn’t want to talk
anymore. “I don’t feel good,” I moaned. I held my hand to my chest as tears
fell down my cheeks. “I don’t feel good,” I repeated.
I just wanted them to go away. I didn’t know anything else that would
help. Joseph hadn’t run into me, and I wasn’t about to let them railroad him.
“We understand that there are personal matters you might not be ready
to discuss. Right now, our focus is on gathering information about the hit-
and-run. Anything you remember about the car or the incident itself would
be helpful.”
“Is this relevant?” Mom insisted, a bite in her voice. “Joseph didn’t run
into her. She didn’t see anything else. She's overwhelmed.”
“We appreciate your concern, and we're here to help Miss Harris.
However, it's important that we hear her account of the events without
influence,” Lopez announced before turning to me. "We understand this is
difficult. We're here to help, not to add to your stress."
My breath was rapid and shallow. “I don’t know who hit me with a car.
I don’t know what a disagreement between Joseph has anything to do with
any of this. I got mad. Ask anyone who knows me; I'm impulsive,” I
stammered, my heart pounding. I didn't feel good. "I run, react, and think
later. I ran out and a car hit me. It’s my fault for not getting out of the way
and not staying at his house… for falling asleep and talking about the
nonsense in the morning. It’s my fault. It’s mine alone. I don’t know what
else to say that’ll help. But I—I...” Everything around me was spinning.
“Please, I just... I need some space.”
The detective stood up. "Thank you for speaking with us, Miss Harris.
We'll do our best with this information. Please rest and recover; reach out if
you remember anything else or need to talk." They handed Mom what
looked like a card, but I didn’t care. I would rather live in a messy room
than talk to them again.
As they were leaving, they said they would talk to my boyfriend and
get his account of what had happened. I leaned back, my heart still
pounding.
“Do you need anything?” Mom asked calmly.
I shook my head. “I just want to sleep. I’m exhausted. Is that okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, you’ve been through a hard time. I’ll just go.”
“Oh, and one more thing.” I almost forgot. I wasn’t sure what Joseph
would be asked or what they would say to him during the interview.
“Yeah?”
“T-the detectives are going to talk with Joseph. Can you see if you can
find out what they ask him? I-I’m…”
She smiled slightly. “If I can, I will. I know you’re curious because I’m
the same way. Not knowing is the worst.”
She left. I just hoped that once I got out of the hospital, things wouldn’t
go back to the way they were. I hoped that we could finally get along.

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 THIRTY ONE

Joseph
2006
I watched the detectives leave Mira’s room and plant themselves in the
hallway, whispering to each other. I kept looking from my phone to them.
Mark was pacing back and forth, avoiding eye contact. He blamed me for
what had happened to Mira. Hell, I blamed myself. But I couldn’t stand the
guy. Mark reminded me of everything my late father wasn't. Dad saw
goodness where others didn't, unlike Mark, with his hypocritical judgments.
Sherry came out shortly after and kind of just wandered around, much
like Mark. I was glad that Mira had her mother. Mira told me that her
mother treated her badly, but I appreciated that she didn't judge me. I was
glad she was here for Mira now, just like Mira had told me repeatedly that
she wanted it.
The detectives shuffled a bit closer. “We should talk to the boyfriend.”
Great, that would be me. “He witnessed the accident, but I can’t help
but suspect Mira wasn’t telling us something about what had happened
before she was hit by the car.”
My stomach twisted and turned. So, Mira didn’t tell them what had
happened? What had she said? If she had told them about the drug use and
dealing, that would have been a can of worms waiting to be opened. What if
she did tell them, and they are just trying to psych me out?
I glanced at Sherry, just staring at whatever. She wasn’t coming over to
tell me off. She’d for sure have Mark’s support if they wanted to gang up on
me. So, I guess that brought me a bit of comfort. My heart raced as the
detectives came my way.
"We’re looking for Joseph Oliver?" one of the detectives called out,
breaking my train of thought.
Mark made a rude gesture toward me. I took a step forward. I wanted
whoever had hurt Mira to pay more than anyone else. Maybe even more
than her parents. After all, her father couldn’t be bothered to show up until
many hours later.
The detectives led me to sit down, away from Mira’s parents. I couldn’t
read their expressions, which made me nervous. They introduced
themselves as Detective Green and Detective Lopez.
 “We just finished talking with Mira about what had happened. She told
us that you were with her and had witnessed everything,” the woman
detective, Green, asked.
I shuffled in my seat. “Yes, I was with her the entire night. You must be
thinking what kind of boyfriend doesn’t protect his girl from harm, right?”
Both of them remained stone faced.
Green spoke again. “Can you tell me what you saw?”
I saw Mark wandering by. No doubt to eavesdrop. But I didn’t say
anything or let on that he was there.
“We were hanging out, eating pizza, when we got into an argument,
and she stormed out. I followed her in my car and looked for her. When I
found her, I was parking, about to go talk to her. This car came out of
nowhere and ran right into her. I honked, trying to get Mira or the driver’s
attention, but it was too late…” I looked down, ashamed. “I couldn’t do
anything to help her.”
“What time was this?”
“It was around two am. I had left my house around one thirty to look
for her, but it was around two when I finally found her.”
The detective wrote something in the flipbook in his hand. They were
so matter-of-fact and straightforward that I couldn’t figure out what they
knew.
Lopez, the more intimidating one, stared at me. “And this car? Did you
get a make, model, license plate?”
“I couldn’t get a plate. It happened too fast. But it was a dark green car,
and if I saw it again, I for sure would be able to identify it. It was one of
those fancy cars. It hit her, reversed, and just drove away."
The detectives exchanged a look before continuing their questioning.
"So just to be clear: you left your house after an argument with Miss Harris
at around one-thirty and came across her at two am this morning, around
the time this dark green car ran into her.”
I glared at him with a bit more force than I had intended. “Yes, that is
what I’m saying. And to make it crystal clear, it was intentional. This was
no accident. They drove right for her.”
Lopez nodded. “So, can you tell us a bit more about this argument you
and Miss Harris had?”
I swallowed a bit. “It was nothing, really.”
 Lopez's voice was rough. “This is the thing, Mr. Oliver. That is what
Mira has said as well. But we both believe there is something more to it. I
understand you want to protect Mira and she wants to protect you. But to
help Mira, we must have the whole picture. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I exhaled a breath. “Yes. I agree.”
I felt cornered as Detectives Green and Lopez pressed for details about
my last interaction with Mira. I cautiously avoided mentioning the drugs,
not wanting to draw police attention to myself and my mother.
"Could you elaborate on your conversation with Mira before she left in
a hurry?" Lopez inquired.
Hesitantly, I offered a half-truth. "She discovered my hidden alcohol.
She was upset, probably too worried to mention it to you, fearing it might
paint me in a bad light."
Lopez looked puzzled. "Your alcohol?"
“Look, I just want to find who had hurt Mira. Look for a dark green
vehicle with front end damage. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
"Joseph, let's shift gears. We're looking into a dark green vehicle seen
near the scene, like what you mentioned. Did Mira have any enemies…
anyone who might drive such a car?"
"I don't recall, no. I can't think of a single person who would want to
hurt her." I glanced at my feet. "She didn't deserve this. It's almost like she
is collateral damage?"
"What do you mean?"
"She is a good person. Sticks to herself, hard working, and kind. I just
feel like if someone wanted to target her, it'd be to hurt someone else. Just a
speculation."
Green and Lopez glanced at one another and back at me. “If you think
of anything else, please give us a call.”
“What are you going to do in the meantime? When I go back in and see
Mira, I need to be able to tell her something.”
“We’ll look at surveillance of nearby businesses, maybe some
witnesses from nearby houses. See if anyone was up that late and could
give us any information.”
Finally, they wrapped up, leaving me standing there, totally drained. I
looked toward Mira's room, my heart heavy. Why did Mira lie about the
drugs? Who was she trying to protect? And most importantly, who would
want to harm her? Did she know more than she was pretending?
OceanofPDF.com
 THIRTY TWO
Mark
2006

I was about to be sick and leaned back against the wall. Joseph…that little
snake. Up until ten minutes ago, I was convinced that he had hit my
daughter with his car and was trying to weasel his way out of it, taking
advantage of her fragile state. But now? Who would honestly believe that
he was responsible? He called for an ambulance, showed up at the hospital,
and was the first one to see her. He probably filled her head with false
promises to keep his story straight.
Now I wasn’t so sure. He told the detective that Mira had caught him
drinking again. I knew he was a bad influence. I strongly suspected it, but
Mira would never admit that he convinced her to go to that nightclub. The
only good thing about that night was that I had reunited with my daughter.
As I stood here, I felt dread wash over me. It wasn’t telling the
detective that Mira had caught him drinking that made me reconsider his
direct responsibility for her being in the hospital. It was the dark green car.
A lump grew in my throat. This wasn’t good; in fact, this was downright
disastrous.
I paced back and forth, not sure what to do. What if that little punk had
set me up? Considering what kind of person his mother was, it was entirely
plausible. I so much wanted to believe without a doubt that Joseph just had
had a beef with me. He had to have seen my car parked in the driveway
when he dropped Mira off, so he could have concocted some story. But my
car had sustained front-end damage, and I couldn’t remember how. I
couldn’t even remember what the hell had happened after I left seeing
Lotus. The thought made me shudder.
There was no way I’d run into my daughter and had just left her there.
Joseph claimed that it was intentional, which made everything else seem
more unlikely. What if it had just been a coincidence? What if he had
chosen my vehicle make and color at random? I hadn’t seen his car yet. He
could deflect blame, and my car damage could have simply resulted from a
hit-and-run. Weirder things had happened before. As unlikely as it seemed
from the outside, it was a lot more plausible than me running my car into
her.
Then there was Lotus. Could she have had a secret beef with my
daughter? Had she actually done what she promised to break up my
daughter and her son? She was known to be a bit unconventional. I didn’t
remember anything, but somehow I had made it back to the hotel.
I tried to stroll casually down the hallway, away from everyone. I
didn’t want to be caught snooping for information, and I needed some fresh
air. Just as I reached the hospital entrance, she showed up.
I twisted my cuff. “Lotus, what are you doing here?” I hissed.
Lotus looked awfully put together. Her long, curly black hair was tied
into a high ponytail, and her makeup was flawless. She was wearing a fur
coat and a pair of sleek leather pants. I don’t know how she could be out all
night, drinking and carrying on, and the next day act like it was another day
without any consequences.
She smiled and greeted me, “Hello to you, too.” She didn’t say
anything else. She tried to scoot by me, but I blocked her path.
“What are you doing here?” My voice grew louder. The last thing I
needed was Lotus scurrying around here.
Sierra and Sherry were both here. How should I explain Lotus? Frick? I
don’t need this right now.
She nudged me harshly. “Don’t make a scene.”
"Then tell me why you're here. I only saw you because I had a
problem."
Lotus gave me a firm look. I hated it when she did that. "Well, I’m
sorry. She wasn't with my son like she was supposed to be. Joseph called
me, freaking out that she was in some kind of accident. Like, I'm sorry,
something bad has happened to her. She seems like a nice girl if he would
ever introduce me to her."
Of course, Joseph didn't introduce Mira to Lotus. He was protecting his
own secret. Lotus was a fun, outgoing, and a great escape from my life with
Sherry, but she came with baggage. She liked to party and do drugs;
occasionally, she would send me to her house to pick up some drugs. I
shouldn't have agreed, but I didn't want the affair to end. I was afraid of her
retaliating.
The first time I went to the house, Joseph had answered the door. He
was ten years old, the same age as Mira, who was interested in Barbies and
keeping her room clean while this boy was handing out drugs to her
mother's boyfriend.
He asked me who I was. I told him I was a friend. He said his mother
had called and told him that I was a businessman. He was to give me an
envelope. It was literally an envelope filled with drugs. I wasn’t sure if
Lotus was trying to half-ass protect Joseph from the truth back then, but it
didn’t change what he was up too now.
Joseph, even back then, was a charmer. And he was dangerous.
"Now, move."
I glanced behind me. "Okay. Okay, this isn't the time to talk about that.
Please just go."
She shook her head. "I came to talk to my son. I tried calling him, but
he didn't answer, so I came here. Please try to act like we don't know each
other. I'll talk to him, then be on my way. So, relax, seriously."
She walked right past me down the hallway.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
She turned and smiled. “The nice lady at the reception told me what
room your daughter was in. I suppose that’s where I’ll find my son. Will
you relax?”
How did she expect me to relax? She could blow everything up in my
face! I waited until she got to the end of the hall. I couldn’t be caught
following her. I needed to pretend that I didn’t know her. I would just stroll
in casually. I headed in her direction when I noticed Sierra and Lotus
crossing paths. They stopped, glared at one another, and kept going.
“Is everything all right?” Sierra asked, coming toward me. Close
behind was Leah. Great! Why can’t they just go home? I swallowed. “I just
heard part of the interview between that detective and Joseph. I just needed
to get some air.”
She hugged me. “What did they say to get you looking all frazzled?”
“I knew that boy was bad news. I guess Mira saw his liquor stash. He’s
some kind of alcoholic. The last thing she needs is to be around someone
who’s drunk all the time.”
Sierra smiled weakly. “D-do you think he could be responsible?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her anymore.
“Did he say anything else? We both knew already that Joseph was
trouble. And don’t you think it’s weird that the night you decide to confront
Mira about your suspicions about Joseph, she ends up in the hospital?”
 I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “He was there when the car hit
her. He claims it was a dark green vehicle…” I blurted out.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down,” Sierra hissed. We distanced ourselves
from Leah, who had ducked into a bathroom down the hall. "Don't even go
there. There are so many dark green vehicles around. Any one of them
could be responsible for what happened to Mira."
I looked at her, but no words came out.
"Mark, relax. They'll find whoever is responsible."
She didn't know that I had gone out last night. She didn't know that my
car very well could have run into my daughter. Now that Lotus was here, so
many things could go wrong.
Leah reappeared with great timing.
"Let's go check on Mira," I suggested.
I knew Mira that was tough and on the mend, but I needed to know
what Lotus was up to. Why couldn't Joseph just answer his damn phone for
his mother?
Lotus was standing there, her arms akimbo. Sherry was sitting, looking
at the phone in her lap. Sierra whispered, "I'm going to flag a cab for Leah,
so she can go home. She's getting a bit restless."
I nodded. "Sure, whatever."
I didn't need to worry about Leah right now. When Sierra was out of
sight, I felt another wave of relief. I walked over to Sherry and past Lotus.
She looked up at me.
"What do you want?" she whispered before looking up at Lotus.
"Hello," Lotus said, approaching us. For fuck's sake.
"Can I help you?" Sherry asked.
"I'm looking for my son, Joseph. He was visiting his girlfriend. I think
her room is around here." I shifted from foot to foot.
"Oh yes. Joseph, what a very nice young man. He was just here. He
went to get something to drink. He said he'd be right back."
Lotus took a seat. “I’ll wait for him here. I tried calling him, but he
didn’t answer.”
“I’m very grateful that Joseph was there for Mira during her time of
need,” Sherry replied.
I wanted to roll my eyes at her. Sherry was acting as if Mira and she
had a great, grand, and amazing relationship. If she cared at all, she’d
recognize how unhealthy the entire relationship was.
 “Joey talks about her all the time. I have to admit, she has been an
amazing influence on him. He has been cleaning up after himself more.
secretly suspect she is probably picking up the slack.”
Sherry flinched and confirmed, “Mira is a very tidy person.”
Lotus stood straight. “You must be proud. I could never get my kid to
pick up after himself.”
Sherry shuffled in her seat. We were both uncomfortable with Lotus
being there, obviously for different reasons. Joseph came down the hallway,
looking at his phone.
“Joey,” Lotus stood up.
He practically jumped out of his skin. “M-mom? What are you doing
here?”
This was about to get really awkward. Lotus reached over and gave
Joseph a big hug. He stiffened, obviously not happy to see his mother. Oh
well, boo hoo.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered.
I looked at Sherry, who was probably thinking the same thing.
“I was trying to get a hold of you, my son. You weren’t answering your
phone. So, I came here to check on you. I was worried about you after
hearing what had happened to poor Mira.”
He gritted his teeth. “She is going to be okay. So, can you please go?”
Lotus grimaced. “Now, now, is that any way to talk to your mom?”
He looked at me, then back at his mother. “Let’s go for a walk.” There
was an edge to his voice. “Let’s not pretend to act like you care,” he said
more quietly.
What gave Joseph the impression that his mother didn’t care? I could
never forgive myself if the person I had turned to for help was the one who
nearly killed her. I needed to know more than ever what the hell the two of
them were talking about.

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 THIRTY THREE
Joseph

2006
Mom rolled her eyes. Like, why is she here? Can’t she just show some
compassion for once?
“Oh, I’m not here to chat, really. Such a pity about your girlfriend.
Hope she recovers. It’s just too bad we never met, but hey, that was your
choice, right?”
I opened my mouth but stopped. I decided to keep what I really wanted
to say to myself. Not with Mira’s parents here. I glanced over at Mark, who
just couldn't help but interject where he didn't belong. He was white as a
sheet for some reason that I couldn’t put my finger on. Sherry just sat there,
emotionless. This felt weird.
“Let’s not get into the many reasons I keep you away,” I whispered to
Mother. “So, what do you want? I’m kind of busy. I just got done talking to
those detectives. It’s been a long day, and I don’t need your drama.”
“What are you doing talking to detectives?” Mom’s voice was a low,
forced threat.
I threw my hands up in the air. “Let me think. I don’t know. Like I saw
my girlfriend get hit by a car. Nothing serious like that.”
Mark approached me. “And like you had no part of that?” he accused
me. “She didn’t react to your drinking? Or find your stash of booze? I don’t
know why you’re here.”
I felt that punch in my gut. At the same time, I wasn’t going to take it
laying down. He was a hypocrite, and my days of trying to win that punk
over were done.
I balled my fists at my side. “No disrespect, Mr. Harris. You weren’t
there. You didn't witness that car barreling at her, the sickening thud as she
collided with it, her head slamming onto the unforgiving curb. I was there,
every agonizing second etched into my memory."
 I looked at Sherry, incredibly sorry for reopening the wound. “I’m
sorry to have to bring it up. I’m sorry to rehash this.” I turned back to Mark.
“But I was with her the entire time. I waited until help came. I was here
when she got rushed into surgery. You? You show up hours late, after
everyone’s been trying to find you. Not surprising, given your history of
abandoning Mira. So don’t you dare question my being here.”
“Damn…” Mom whistled under her breath with a smirk on her face.
“Yeah…”
There was no taking it all back. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
He and Sierra had been carrying on for a few years before he had
abandoned Mira, her sister, and her mother, his wife, to start a new family
with Sierra and Leah. I felt bad for Leah, but still, he had options. He had
made choices.
“That is none of your business,” Mark said.
I shrugged. “Neither is my relationship with Mira, but you seem to be
trying to convince her to break up with me. I'm not even sure what the hell
was so wrong, that she didn't know about.” Except the drugs. I still wasn’t
sure if she would forgive me for it…after she had time to process
everything.
"Yeah, like taking her to a nightclub and getting her drunk. Or, you
know, selling drugs all those years. It's like you had never changed. Not
sure how she ended up with someone like you."
I couldn't believe the hypocrisy of his words. "Selling drugs? You
really want to go?” I laughed bitterly. He wanted to dance. He was going to
get it. “You cheated on your wife with Sierra and left your family in the
dust. Now you're judging me for something I was roped into it by my own
mother before I even knew what the hell I was doing. That's rich." I lowered
my voice at the end because we were getting looks from people in the
waiting room.
Mom's face had lost all its color; even Mark seemed to realize the
audacity of his criticism. The awkward silence broke when Sherry, who had
been sitting quietly in the corner, finally spoke, "What the hell is going on
here?"
 I looked at Mom. She was usually very composed, but she appeared a
bit flustered now. Was she hiding something? I stared at Mark, who couldn’t
hide his intentions, either. Mom and Mark exchanged a glance.
Holy shit. They knew each other. They knew each other?
“Mom, did you and Mark meet before today?”
Lotus smiled weakly, but I wasn’t buying it. It was like she was a wolf
stalking a sheep. “We are acquainted, yes…” she admitted, and it looked
like the leaf could blow Mark over. I half expected him to throw up his
hands and start protesting, but he just stood there.
“Lotus…” he uttered, but Sherry interrupted.
Sherry jumped into the conversation. “Wait!” She looked at Mark and
back to Lotus. “When did you two meet? I remember Mark mentioning a
client years ago. Lottie, or was it Lotus? Late 90s, I think... always on the
phone with them. I suspected…” her eyes went glossy with tears and she
plopped back into her seat, head in her hands.
Were they serious? I suspected Mom was sleeping around on Dad the
last few years of his life because of his drinking and inability to keep a job.
But Mark?
“You had an affair with Mira’s father?” I blurted out to my mother.
Everyone stopped and looked at me.
“I wouldn’t quite put it that way…” she said.
It was too late. The truth, or at least the suggestion of it, hung heavily
in the air. I turned to Sherry. Her face drained of color, her hands trembling
visibly as she clutched the edge of her seat. A choked gasp escaped her, the
sound of someone grappling with a truth too painful to fully comprehend.
I looked at Mother. I needed to call her out. “You haven’t held a job
more than a few months in my entire life, especially not one working with
high clients. So the ‘client’ was the keyword for an affair. Yet, I’m a bad
influence on Mira. Like seriously?”
A nurse or some kind of medical personnel stopped by. "Will you guys
keep it down? I can hear you from down the hall. There are sick people
here. If you can't keep it down, I'll ask you all to leave." She turned and left
down the hall.
 I mumbled something and turned to leave before I said something I'd
regret. I decided to check on Mira. Everyone else was lost in their own
goddamn drama, as if they had forgotten that she was here. With how
selfish they all were, something they did or didn’t do could lead to the
person who had actually harmed Mira.
I knew she wanted to rest, but I really wanted to see her. It would make
me feel better. Mom had no shame. She didn't care about Dad, and what
made it worse was that she cheated with Mira's dad. Just confirming the
suspicions hurt so goddamn much. Being around all of them and their
hypocrisy sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.
In the room, Mira was awake. I pulled up a chair. "How are you
feeling?"
“I just feel so tired. I really am kind of annoyed by that cup.”
I looked over at the tray at the end of the bed. The cup was nearing the
edge. “do you want me to move it?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but not there. It’s empty. I wish the nurse would
come pick it up. And on the floor… I can see some sticky substance. I just
wish I could mop it right about now.”
I could tell that Mira didn’t want to be here any more than I did. I
wished there was something I could do to make this easier on her. When she
got out of here, she wouldn’t be able to clean up after herself, or the house,
in her condition.
She fiddled with the collar still on her neck. “I wished they’d take this
thing off. They said as soon as neurology comes and sees me, they will.
Whenever that is.”
“You’re looking a lot more alert than when you first got here, babe.”
Suddenly, Mira clutched her chest, gasping for air as if she couldn’t get
enough oxygen. “The pain meds help with that. I don’t feel much of
anything unless I move. So far, so good.” She was trying to reassure me, but
I noticed that she looked a little ashen.
“I’m also really grateful you haven’t told me to fuck off.”
Mira looked away, sighed, and forced eye contact. “I-I...” She found
herself trying to catch her breath again. “I haven’t really had time to think
about what I found. I just remember you being there when that car hit me. I
don’t really remember much of anything before then. I barely remember the
drug dealing.” She was whispering now. “I-I…”
Yet she told the detective a different story. "Why didn't you tell the
detectives the truth when they were here?"
Her gaze dropped. "I didn't think it was necessary. Besides, you weren’t
the one who hit me." She winced in pain, grabbing her chest.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah, just need to catch my breath. What were you
thinking?"
I leaned in closer, my concern growing. “The way they questioned
me... it was intense." I paused, noticing the sheen of sweat on Mira's
forehead.
Mira wiped her forehead, her hand shaking slightly. “You didn’t do
anything wrong. I didn’t tell them what we argued about because it wasn’t
relevant. It’s between you and me. I…”
“I am sorry, babe. I know this isn’t really the time, but I want you to
know everything I did was because I was afraid you’d leave me if you knew
the truth.”
Suddenly, Mira's speech slurred, her words trailing off into a mumble.
"N-no..."
I reached out, my hands hovering over her, unsure how to help.
"Babe?"
"I need a minute... my leg..."
She didn't look so good as she lay back in the bed. Then that hollow
expression returned. It was like the scene all over again.
"Mira, stay with me," I pleaded, looking around for someone, or
something. "Babe? Babe? Are you okay?” I nudged her arm. "Mira?" I
waited for some kind of response.
Then the monitors went off. “Babe?” I jumped up, scanning the room
for a nurse button or something but finding nothing. “Stay with me.”
A nurse rushed in. “I’m sorry. I’m going to need to ask you to step
outside.”
“What’s wrong with her?” My heart pounded. “She was just fine a
moment ago. Mira?”
 As a doctor and several staff members rushed past me, I felt hands
gently but insistently guiding me out. “We’ll update you as soon as we
can,” one of them promised.
They closed the curtain. I stood there dumbfounded, my body stiff.
Sherry and Tiffany rushed in. “What’s happening? Is Mira okay?”
“She... she was fine. We were talking, and then…” She wasn’t okay. I
couldn’t bring myself to meet their eyes; instead, I started pacing back and
forth, trapped in a whirlwind of helplessness and dread. “She just stopped
responding. The monitors went crazy, and they... just told me to leave. I
don’t know what’s happening. She looked so tired, b-but she was okay.”
She was fine. She had to be okay. The thought of losing her was
unbearable. I couldn't lose her in the same way that I lost my father. Was
this all my fault? Was bringing up the very thing that made her run out of
the house in the first place, why she was declining now?
I got angry. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and focus. I might
have sent her running out at two in the morning, but someone out there was
responsible. We still had no idea who put her in this hospital or why.

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 THIRTY FOUR
Mark

2006
I found Sierra by the front entrance as a yellow cab pulled away from the
curb.
Sierra turned to look at me. “I paid for Leah’s cab home. With
everything going on, the last thing we need is to worry about Leah and her
dramatics. The constant talking I can handle most times, but right now, is
not one of them.”
I nodded. Everything was becoming too much. I had to stop myself
from punching Joseph in the face. Everything was out in the open. The
reason why I disliked him so much. Lotus and my affair. Sherry was this
close to bursting into flames.
Now she had Joseph as an ally. Piece by piece, everything was falling
apart.
“Are you okay?” Sierra put her hand on my arm. “I know you’re under
a lot of stress. But it’s okay to take a moment and breathe.”
I shook my head. “I’m okay. It seems like Mira is doing better. It was
still hard to see her like that. Her face is swollen, and she’s bed bound, but
she seems to be in high spirits.”
Sierra smiled. “I’m glad to hear. I’m actually so glad things are looking
good.”
I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Maybe you could go
see her. Offer her your support.”
Sierra shuffled from foot to foot. “I don’t know.”
I grimaced. “Why?”
She looked at her feet. “I mean, Sherry is there. I’m sure I’m one of the
last people she wants to see. Considering she thinks I was out to steal your
daughters from her.”
 Sherry thought a lot of things. She created narratives and liked to create
drama. Surely, she would keep her cool for Mira’s sake. Because if she
didn’t, I’m sure either security or Mira would tell her to leave.
But she did have Joseph as her new sidekick. I just hoped that Lotus
had moved on. But knowing her, she would stick around. She thrived on the
drama, and Joseph hadn’t paid her to go away. Because money and or drugs
placated that woman faster than anything.
“I’ll stay here, or maybe I’ll just go home and you can stay with Mira,”
she added softly.
I shook my head. “No. Sherry will just have to get used to it.” That and
Sierra being there would be the perfect distraction. I’m not sure where
Lotus was, or what Sherry will continue to spout. She was a ticking time
bomb, and her finding out Lotus and I had an affair was just what was
needed to set her off. “I’m sick and tired of pretending like moving on is
wrong. Do you know what I mean?”
Sierra hugged me. “You’re right. We aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s
not your fault she can’t move on.”
I swallowed, my Adam’s apple bobbing. A lot of Sherry’s reactions and
attitude toward me were my fault. But at some point, she’d need to get over
it. See a therapist, start dating, or take up some kind of hobby, but she
couldn’t keep doing this.
“Okay, let’s go. I’m sure Mira will love to see you.”
We started walking back towards the ward. My heart pounded the
closer we got. I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with everything.
When I got to the waiting room outside of Mira’s hospital room, the
tension was noticeable.
Joseph paced back and forth, worry painted on his face. He should be
worried because I wanted nothing more than to put him in the hospital.
Sherry and Tiffany sat quietly on a small couch off to the side. Sherry kept
rocking in her chair.
Sierra shifted from foot to foot. I could tell she, too, felt uncomfortable.
She whispered to me, “I should go…”
Then Sherry looked up at us. She glared at Sierra, then at me. “What
the hell is she doing here?”
 Tiffany and Joseph turned their attention to me.
“Seriously? Why is she here? That is a good question! Bringing her is
the last thing anyone needs…” Tiffany blurted angrily.
I narrowed my gaze. “This isn’t the time for this conversation.”
Tiffany stood. “No, really?” Then she burst into tears. “Mira isn’t doing
okay right now. The last thing she needs right now is for you to bring her
here. Mira has everyone she needs. She has a Mom. Me. Her boyfriend.
And you Dad, but not her.” She pointed at Sierra. “She isn’t Mira’s mom.
She isn’t my mom. So why don’t you take her home? Why must you
continue to put us second all the time?” Tears streamed down her face.
“What the hell is going on here?” I asked.
Sherry rose and took a step forward. “Your lack of giving a shit. You’d
rather flirt and get laid than be there for your daughters—either of them.
Right now, Mira is having some kind of complication. We don’t know
anything. And right now, what I don’t need is for you to bring her…”
Sherry took a deep breath, her face becoming beat red. “Do you have any
shame? Like take her and…and…” Sherry glanced over to Joseph and
sighed. “Just take her home. I’m Mira’s mother. And that is all she needs.
So just go.”
Sierra looked visibly uncomfortable.
“Now is not the time to discuss this,” I tried to insist. “We are together.
You have to get over it. You have to get over whatever jealousy you feel…”
Joseph's hands clenched.
I turned to him. “What the hell are you all angry about, punk?”
“At your hypocrisy.”
Sherry glared at me and smirked.
Joseph stood again. “You really have no right to tell anyone to get over
the past.”
“Oh, will you shut up all ready?” I nearly yelled at him.
Joseph wasn’t about to shut up. What the hell was up his sleeve? He
better not bring up Lotus. It was bad enough she showed up here at all. I
didn't like not being able to control the narrative. He better just sit the hell
down. The last thing I needed was this to make everything worse for Mira.
Not with everything going on.
 “You don’t just wake up, bail on your family, and ghost them for a year
without a reason! And her," he gestured towards Sierra, "if you guys hadn't
run into Mira and me that night, who knows when you'd have decided to
show up again? Did Sierra even ask why your kids were MIA? Or did you
just hit her with that news out of the blue? Or maybe she knew and just
didn't care. And bringing her here? That's low. Man, I don't even know what
to say. It's messed up. Any judgements you get from other people is all on
you." He sat down on an empty chair. "Now I'll shut up."
I found myself cornered. I hated him so much. “This doesn’t concern
you. Any of you.” I couldn’t say anymore out loud without exposing to
Sierra my connection to Lotus.
Sherry’s face turned beat red. “You really couldn’t resist, could you? So
you got tired of your own family, had an affair and went and made a new
family with someone like her. Desperate. Cold. Messy. No wonder Tiffany
doesn’t want to be around you and your whore.”
Sierra, who had been silent and composed until this moment, blurted
out, “I can’t help that you couldn’t satisfy him. It needs to be said since
everyone else around you, Sherry, refuses to tell you the truth, because you
are so fragile!”
I wanted to tell her to stop, but I didn’t. I was too shocked to speak.
“And frankly, I can’t help that Tiffany is nothing but a spoiled brat,”
she briefly looked at me, “no offense, Mark. She’s simply out of control,
and it's clear she gets that from her mother. Mark, you’ve done your best,
working tirelessly to provide for your children, but Mira saw through it all
and made a wise choice. I’ve done everything I can to offer Mira the
stability she clearly lacked at home. She seems to really value what I bring
to her life, and she’s such a delightful young lady."
I took a step back. This was about to get ugly. Sierra pointed out all of
Sherry’s insecurities, one by one. Her relationship with Mira seemed to be a
huge trigger. I’m just glad Tiffany wandered off somewhere and wasn’t here
at this moment. I looked over at Joseph. This was his fault.

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 THIRTY FIVE
Sherry
2006

I hated them both so much.

I had married and divorced a liar. For twenty-three years, I had stood
by his side, seventeen of them as his wife, believing that we were building a
family for our daughters. I was loyal. I could have been a better wife and
mother, but our family didn't deserve to be thrown away like trash.
Did he ever love me? Did he only marry me because I got pregnant with
Mira? Now he was trying to break up Mira's relationship with Joseph, using
Joseph’s mother, his former lover, to do so. I shouldn't be surprised.
Now he had brought around the one person I hated the most. Did he
know that Sierra and I knew each other? Did Sierra tell him the truth? He
chose this moment: our daughter was in the hospital. The building was
filled with the injured and sick, security, and hospital staff, yet it infuriated
me that he wanted to rub it in my face that he had replaced me. The focus
should be on Mira!
I didn't know how he had met Sierra, or what he saw in her that he
didn't see in me. It was a knife in my gut and the ultimate betrayal. Sierra
was my half-sister. I hated how she walked in here, pretending to be a
caring person and have my daughter's best interests at heart... It took
everything in me not to grab something sharp and stab her in the eyes. She
deserved to be here, not Mira.
I had spent eighteen years trying to put her in the past where she
belonged, but she was never going to leave me alone.
Ever since she and Mark ran into Mira and Joseph at the nightclub, my
life had been nothing but a downward spiral. I never expected in a million
years that Mira would prefer to live with them, especially her dad, who had
abandoned her for a year and choose Sierra over me. When I told Mark that
she was his problem now, I thought she had to see for herself what Mark
was really like; then she’d come back to me.
I didn’t know at the time that he was with Sierra. It wasn’t until a
month later, when Tiffany visited his house, that she told me he was dating
her. I regretted just letting her go without a fight ever since. I wanted so
much to go back in time and do so many things differently. Maybe she
wouldn't be here right now, badly injured. I just wished I could blame this
all on Mark. I blamed him for leaving me and our family, but I never told
him about Sierra.
Sierra stood there with a smirk on her face. She always knew how to
set me off. It was part of the reason why I distanced myself from her. I
never knew how to deal with her. Right now, I was struggling. I didn’t
know what was wrong with Mira, and Sierra was here looking for a fight.
I turned to look at Mark—just standing there, all pathetic. He was Mr.
Passive, the king of avoiding confrontation; but I had been doing the same
thing for twenty years.
"Oh, really, Mark? You've got her fighting your battles now?” I blurted
out. “That’s rich. Is that why you brought your sloppy seconds here? It’s
just too bad…” I was curious if Mark would defend Sierra.
I needed to find it in me to confront them both so I could move on.
He just stood there. Sierra came to his defense. He was such a coward.
How could I have ever loved him?
“Deep down, you’re just bitter because you wish you could have Mark
back,” Sierra spit out. “Isn't that right? Your husband left you. Then Mira
left you. No wonder…"
I prepared myself for her jabs. Because Mark would have filled her in
on all our marital problems and growing up together, she knew exactly what
buttons to push and how to get under my skin. She would use it to
manipulate me.
Mira was one of the discussed topics. My relationship with Mira was
one of those things I found hard to navigate. Sierra was making it so much
worse. I was here now, for my daughter, the way she deserved. I had spent
the last few weeks reflecting on how things had gotten so wrong and how I
was going to fix it. Then her accident happened. All those old feelings, the
grief, and my fear of losing her again came crashing back.
She had tried to steal my daughter from me. She had tried to turn Mira
against me, and I thought she had succeeded. Then the phone calls came,
and she started to taunt me. The first call happened a week after Tiffany
went there for Mira’s birthday.
It was the first time I had heard her condescending voice in so many
years. Remember me? You thought you could keep me away, but I’m back
for good. I will now have what I always deserved. Mark and I are going to
spend our anniversary in Paris. Then she hung up.
At the time, I had reacted by drinking an entire bottle of red wine and
looking at old wedding photos and where Mark and I had gone on our
honeymoon. Had he rehashed our entire marriage, too? Every little detail?
Maybe he was just that unoriginal, or he was trying to punish me for
something I had done. I couldn’t have been that bad.
Then came the voicemails. She was ballsy. She had left a message on
my phone that she was sure I would find. Mira is such a wonderful young
woman. It’s a shame you didn’t appreciate her. If she were my daughter,
she’d be so much more successful than she is…
Why didn’t I call her out? There were so many opportunities and I
could have ended this, but I didn’t. I didn’t want everyone to know who she
was. I wasn’t prepared emotionally or mentally to address that woman.
I never realized until the day that Mira gave me back her house key just
how much of an influence Sierra was having. Sierra would call me from
block numbers every few days for two weeks, narrating how well Mira was
doing. Still, after all that, I said nothing. I was allowing that woman, who
was just as unstable as I was, because of what… pride?
“Remembering what was lost?” Sierra’s snide voice cut through my
memories. “Or about what a lonely life you are living? Jealous?”
"Jealous?” I laughed. “Of what? A man who couldn’t even be loyal to
his own family for someone else's sloppy seconds. Please, Sierra, you ended
up with a real prize. If that is what you consider a prize, anyway." He had
cheated on me with at least two women. Who knows, maybe he had been
having an affair on and off with many, many more. Maybe even with
someone as we spoke.
"Should we clap to your great accomplishments?" I slow clapped
anyway, mostly to add insult to injury.
I looked back at Mark, the center and the glue that kept all this going.
What a poor excuse of a man, standing there looking lost. He looked like a
puppy abandoned on the roadside. I would have pitied him if he hadn’t
betrayed me so deeply. But I had to let him go. I had to let what he did to
me go.
Tiffany kept telling me that Sierra wasn’t worth it, and she was right.
Her voice rang in my head even now: You are much better than her, Mom.
It’s not your fault Dad downgraded. And if you keep going like this, you’ll
lose Mira for good, and that will be all on you.
Tiffany had been right. I didn’t want to lose Mira, especially not when
we nearly lost her today..
Surely Sierra would rejoice in silence at Mira hurting, if it was a means
to hurt me. I could never let myself get back to that place. What Sierra was
capable of scared me. But she was on a rampage to ruin my life.
Eliminating Mira would be the opposite effect. She had Mira as an ally. But
I needed to do something fast to get rid of her before she realized Mira and
I were bonding over her accident. Sierra might… I didn’t want to go there.
She was Mark’s problem now.
I laughed, trying to keep myself together. Tiffany was right. He wasn’t
worth another moment of my thoughts. His opinion, his headspace, should
have stopped mattering when he threw his family away. I was working on
it, but still his name sent me spiraling.
Sierra shrugged nonchalantly and uttered, "He rescued Mira from you.
He is a good father.”
Little did she know that I was going to control things this time. “Yeah,
a father who is not around and didn’t even bother to show up at the hospital
for his daughter most of the day. And really, if I were a big, bad mother,
huh?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “If I'm so terrible, why did Mark run off to
play daddy to some fatherless kid instead of taking care of his own? Was
your child's dad so repulsed by you and that talkative little brat?”
My words were sharp. Yes, I knew about Sierra’s fatherless daughter.
That spineless twit had ditched her years ago, and she had tried to keep it all
quiet. I knew it was petty, and it wasn’t that poor girl’s fault, but I was hurt.
Hurt people lashed out. It would be something I’d need to work on.
Sierra scowled. Did she underestimate me? I fingered the necklace
around my neck.
I glanced over at Joseph. He stared at it. I stopped abruptly and hid it behind
my hair. He was practically squirming, dying to say something. This was an
ivory pendant, hand carved. Only two exact ones had been created: identical
for me and for Sierra. I hated the stupid pendent, but it kept me grounded. It
reminded me in a twisted way of where I had come from, and it was one of
the last things I owned connecting me to my toxic childhood.
“That’s enough, Sherry, this isn’t the place…” Even Mark wasn’t
convinced by his words.
 “Because you can’t handle the truth?” I said, but stopped myself. Let
him go.
Tiffany showed some back up. “Of course, Dad can’t handle no truth.
He doesn’t want any of us. He’s happy pretending everyone is the culprit
for him being a shitty father.” She turned to me. “Do you have a dollar? I'm
short for the soda machine, Mom.”
Mark said. “I’ve got some change.”
Tiffany stared at him and shook her head. “Nah, I’m good. I don’t need
your pity change.”
The look on Mark’s face was priceless.
“A chip off the old block. An ungrateful child who frankly could use a
tune up to show her elders some respect,” Sierra interjected.
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “What are you, Mother Theresa?”
“Tiffany, that’s enough,” Mark interjected weakly. “You will not speak
to her that way. You will respect…”
I burst out laughing. Just the nerve of him to tell Tiffany to respect
Sierra.
“What is your problem?” Mark approached until we were face to face.
“I have been patient with your issues. I’ve given you the benefit of the
doubt. I even let Tiffany move back.”
I pushed him away. “Pfft, you didn’t let me do anything. I’ve always
had custody. Let’s remind everyone what you willingly gave. Sole custody.
I let her stay with you and look how that turned out. She came back because
she couldn’t stand a father who chose another woman over her. Like really.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take you back to court. I’m sure I
can convince a judge with your open DUI charge that Tiffany would be
better off staying with me.”
Tiffany jumped up. “Fuck that. I’ll tell the judge you abandoned me
and told me to get out because I didn’t like your girlfriend. I’ll never live
with you again. I’d rather live with strangers than with you. I hate you and I
hate her…” She pointed at Sierra and added, “even more.”
Mark gritted his teeth. Even the smirk on Sierra’s face had disappeared.
I hated that Tiffany had to come to my aid, but Mark needed a reality check.
He needed to know that actions had consequences. If I had to face my
demons, so did he.
Still, he couldn’t stop kicking me where it hurt: bringing up my DUI,
one of the lowest moments of my life. At the side of my view, Tiffany was
talking with Joseph. He whispered something to Tiffany, who turned back
to me. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Both Mark, Sierra, and I
stared over at them.
“Are you serious, Dad?” She looked at me. “Did you know about the
necklace you’re wearing? Dad bought one for Sierra, too. That same
pendent.”
My heart started to pump. Shit! Shit! How did Joseph know about the
necklace? I didn’t say anything.
“What necklace?” Mark shouted.
I held the pendant tightly in my hands. I couldn’t read the expression
on Sierra’s face, but she wasn’t smiling.
“The one she’s holding…” Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Like…are you
trying to play dumb? "
Mark had to practically rip my hands off the necklace to look at it.
Then he looked at Sierra.
“You have one like this… did you steal it, Sherry?”
I slapped his hands away. “Fuck you.”
“Mira saw Sierra wearing one the same night at the nightclub. Earlier
this morning, she saw that necklace. I thought…” Joseph glanced
downward, ashamed.
I let out a forced laugh. “Of course, Mira would be the one to notice
something like that…” I just wished she was observant enough to see right
through Sierra’s manipulations.
Sierra bit her bottom lip.
“What’s going on here?” Mark said. “Someone tell me what this is?”
I paced a bit, avoiding eye contact.
“I should have made good on my promise, there shouldn’t I have?
Should have told Mira the truth.” Sierra said.
That got my attention. The night of my arrest, she had been trying to
blow up my entire world the entire day. I had been drinking all day. I had
lost my job that morning, having come to work one too many times
hungover and reeking of alcohol. The house was a mess. I missed Mira and
was too proud to admit it. Then there was the phone call from Sierra that
sent everything over the edge.
I snooped at Mira’s phone. Looks like things aren’t going so well for
you. Maybe I can help things along. Tell Mira the whole truth about why
her mother hates her so much. I’ll spin it in a way that she’ll never talk to
you again.
She had hung up the phone. I had taken her bait. I grabbed my keys,
got into my car, and backed right into the neighbor's vehicle. I tried to drive
away, not sure what the hell I was thinking. I was ranting about Mira and
God knew what else.
The police came, threw me to the ground, and handcuffed me. I was
crying, begging them not to take me away. Bob and everyone else in the
neighborhood saw me unravel. I’d never felt so low, so embarrassed in all
my life. I saw Tiffany staring in the window. At that moment, I wanted her
to look away. I’d never admit to her that I had seen her.
At the police station, I blew a .22, almost three times over the legal limit.
Then I was fingerprinted, photographed, and thrown into a holding cell. She
wasn’t home the next day when I was able to post a bond. I had thought I
had lost her, too…that Mark and Sierra had won. I never received another
phone call from Sierra after that.
“Yeah, maybe you should have told Mira and Mark, and everyone else
that you were harassing me. Calling me and leaving voice mails. You were
snooping on Mira’s phone.”
Mark threw his hands in the air. “And why the hell would she do that?
Have you seriously lost your mind?”
Sierra smirked, and Mark didn’t miss it. He stared at her, his mouth
gaping. “Sierra? Is this… true?”
I mean, everything was out in the open. “No one needs to take my word
for it. I have the voicemail right here. One of many, so should we all take a
listen?” I pulled out my cell phone. Sierra stopped smiling.
She didn’t think I’d hide the evidence. I guessed she didn’t realize that
I used to listen to her voicemails on repeat as some weird way to torture
myself. I would often look at old photographs of my old life. The life I
missed and drank away, listening to her stupid voice over and over again.
“How do you know Sierra, Mom?” Tiffany interrupted. “And how the
hell did you even find out my mom’s number?”
“She hacked into your sister's phone, sweetie, and read your messages
with Mira.”
"What the hell is wrong with you? Snooping on Mira? Are you so
insecure that you need to check up on what she's saying? Do you think she
was talking trash about you?" She clenched her fists, glaring at Mark. "And
don't you dare try to defend her, Dad. She's fake. You're fake. You two
deserve each other. Mom deserves better than both of you. Life was so
much better before you came back. I bet she was harassing Mom because
she's secretly jealous. She wanted to alienate Mira from Mom, wishing Mira
was her daughter because her own daughter, Leah, was so damn annoying.
Disappointing. She took advantage of Mira when she was vulnerable..."
She turned to her dad. "You don't love Mira. You just wanted to use her
as a pawn. Why don't you two just go? Go be your fake, perfect family and
leave us alone!" She pointed to me, Joseph, and herself. "We are the ones
who truly care about Mira, not you."
“One more word…” Mark warned.
I was tired of this. I was so tired of Mark defending a woman who was
trying to alienate Mira. Who was trying to turn Tiffany and Mira against
one another. She needed to be stopped.
“The truth is, I know Sierra. I’ve known Sierra all thirty-six miserable
years of her life. Why do you think I never brought you home to my
mother’s house? She always came to our house. Why do you think she
always took a liking to Mira?”
I paced back and forth, dreading the conversation. "Sierra is my sister.
Mom had an affair, and her father ditched her. Luckily, Dad..."
"Shut up!" Sierra yelled. “Shut up right now!”
"You can't handle the fact that your father had abandoned you. Then
you gave birth to a child whose father also abandoned her... It's a cycle that
keeps repeating."
"Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about. It's not like she
sent you away to live with relatives..."
That was not how it happened at all. "You did it to yourself when you
tried to set the house on fire!"
Sierra clenched her teeth. "You did that. You were the one with the
matches. I-I…"
I tensed up. "You looked Mom in the eye and tried to tell her that same
lie, but she didn't believe you. We all know that you lit that couch on fire. I
managed to put it out before we all died. You just stood there
expressionless."
I swallowed and continued, “When you were five, you punched a hole
in the wall? Took some scissors and cut up all the screen doors. You
threatened to kill the cat. When confronted, you walked away and acted like
nothing had happened. Again, no expression.”
“That never happened. You’re crazy,” Sierra tried to protest.
"And the bizarre behavior didn’t stop there. She was staying with our
aunt Susan. A lot of emotional outbursts. Lying. Starting fights and getting
expelled from two schools in two years because of threatening behavior.
She stole a week's worth of grocery money. Even when they reported to the
police, she still said nothing until they found it stuffed in her mattress.”
“Stop lying!”
“Which part?”
"You ruined everything!” Sierra shouted. “Mom told me it was your
fault. You convinced everyone that I was the problem, but you just wanted
it all. It's clear that you are still unstable, Sherry. Still lashing out, raising a
disrespectful little version of yourself."
"Please..." When Mira was five, Mom had eerily remarked that she was
the “perfect version” of Sierra, the daughter she sent away to save her
marriage. That confession haunted me. My father never accepted Sierra,
and Mother never owned up to her choice. The thought of Sierra
influencing Mira terrified me. The day I learned she was living with Sierra,
I should have fought harder to bring her back. Someone always got hurt
when Sierra was around.
"You convinced her to send me away because you didn't want me to
ruin your perfect little life. Now you can't stand that Mira doesn't want to
live with you." Only Sierra didn't care about Mira. I realized that Sierra’s
focus wasn’t on Mira at all. Both Tiffany and Mark stood there, stunned,
letting us rant.
“S-she is my aunt…?” Tiffany blurted out softly.
I shook my head. “She’s a nobody. Nothing changed except the world
needs to know what kind of person she is.”
“Except… Grandma.”
I glanced down at my feet. “I’m sorry, Tiffany, that it had to come out
like that. Your grandma loved you very much.”
“But… how is any of this your fault? Or…” Tiffany swallowed as if
she wasn’t sure whether to burst into tears or run away. “Like this sounds
like Grandma’s fault. Like, you didn’t send her,” she pointed at Sierra,
“away to go live with anyone.”
 “Oh, you don’t know anything. None of you do…” Sierra was actually
getting angry, seeming to be vulnerable. Good. “Mom only saw Leah a few
times. Mom loved your daughter. You hated your daughter because she
reminded Mom of me. I should have been the most important daughter. I
had all the qualities that Mom had wanted in a daughter. She had told me
that, mentioning that she wished she had met my dad first. Then life would
have been perfect.”
“There was no point in denying it.” I muttered and looked at my feet.
“A lot of Mira reminded me of you, but I tried everything in my power to
make sure she didn’t turn out like you. And really, she didn’t turn out half
bad. She was never arrested for stabbing a child. She never stole a car and
crashed it at the age of eight. She was never so violent that I felt like she
wasn’t a risk to the rest of the family. I can't help but fear that your shadow
has somehow reached her, and that's why she's in the hospital.”
“Why would I want to hurt Mira?” Sierra tried to act all innocent, as
usual. "Besides, somehow Mira doesn’t hate your guts. You hated your
daughter just because you hated me. You don’t deserve to be a mother…”
I shook my head. My heart raced, and I wanted to throw up. I hadn’t
wanted to talk about this, but it was only fair. “I was wrong about Mira. But
at least she isn’t psychotic.”
Sierra was shaking. “In the end, she’ll always remember you, though
there is something wrong with her. She’ll get better and see you for whom
you are…” Sierra's face was flushed a deep red. “She’ll break off with her
good-for-nothing boyfriend, who is nothing but a bad influence. Then she'll
come back to her father and my house. I’ll treat her like the mother she
never had. I’ll show her what a happy, healthy relationship is.”
“Oh, really!”
Lotus came from around the corner.
“Go away,” Mark said, entering the discussion.
I needed a drink. I hadn’t had a single sip since after Mira had
showed up at my house and gave me the house key back. The three-night
detox was hell. But with his two whores in the same space, the urge was
there, and I needed to fight it.
“I’d love to meet this Mira. She seems like such a nice young lady,
considering the drama the three of you seem to find yourself in.”
“This doesn’t concern you. Your son will never be with my daughter in
the end…” Mark tried to interject.
 “Yes, go away and mind your own business. Or you’ll end up on your
ass like Sherry here,” Sierra stated.
I saw the look on Mark’s face.
“Oh really…” Lotus said with a smirk. “What if your girlfriend here,
and whatever drama you have found yourself in, is the reason your daughter
is in this mess? It's obvious, isn't it? Everyone, including you, has failed her.
You've all just turned her tragedy into your own personal soap opera. Did he
mention, by any chance, that he called me last night? That we slept
together? He was desperate to keep Mira away from my son. I mean, I had
no intention of doing anything because, let's be real. She has had such a
positive impact on my son's motivation that I have never seen my house so
clean. So, maybe it's time for you to reevaluate your so-called 'perfect'
relationship and focus on Mira, who you all claim to be worried about.”
With that, she turned and went to Joseph. “Like I didn’t expect this
dramafest when all I wanted was some money. Give me a little something,
son, and I’ll be on my way.”
What I really needed right now was to see Mira and tell her that I was
sorry for how I had treated her. I couldn’t let what happened between Sierra
and me control me anymore. I needed to make things right with Mira. And I
needed to find out what the hell had really gone down with Sierra and
Mark, because Mira didn’t deserve any of this.
And Lotus, of all people, needed to remind us of that, and I hated it.
Mira didn’t deserve a mother who did the same thing my own had done to
me, and she deserved justice.

OceanofPDF.com
 THIRTY SIX
Mira
2006

"I wished the nurse hadn't closed the door after the doctors did their thing
and left without so much as a 'You need to rest.' While they wanted to let
me get some sleep, and while I wanted a long nap, I also wanted to hear
what else was being said. Dad had brought Sierra to the same area as Mom.
Was he looking for a fight? What the hell was he hiding from? He'd only
introduce trouble if he was trying to deflect from it. I guessed having Mom
and Joseph here when he clearly didn’t like him for whatever reason just
added to the sentiment.
Then the arguing happened. Like everyone who knew Mom knew she
wouldn’t stand silent around Dad when he introduced the woman he left
Mom for. Then the bombshell exploded. I was still shaking. Lies. Secrets.
Everything I despised came crashing down, and I couldn’t stop it.
Mom was acting her old, confident self. She was trying to make
amends with me. And if the last few months meant anything, I expected her
to freak out and have security called on her. But she took charge. She would
not let Dad hurt her. I had to admire that, even though those words replayed
in my mind.
The shock.
Mom had blurted out like it was nothing that Sierra and she were
sisters.
Sisters.
Everything felt so overwhelming.
It was about control, something Mom always needed. She wanted to
control her narrative. The hell with how I would feel. Or Tiffany. Wonder
what the hell she was thinking about this new revelation. Especially after
how she freaked out on Dad. Would she give Mom the same energy?
Then I heard Sierra blame Mom for her getting sent away like some
bad secret. Mom blamed Sierra for Grandma having an affair and for Sierra
being born. I didn't know what to think about any of it. I had always
considered Grandma as someone who people liked and respected.
I felt my eyes tear up again.
They were related. Sierra was my aunt. It blew my mind. I felt lied to. I
wanted to go out there and demand answers, but I couldn't. I was trapped. I
hated this.
I saw the plastic wrapper of the disposable gauze on the edge of my
bed. I wanted so badly to throw it out. Even the comforter on the bed had a
wrinkle. I-I…
All these years, Mom kept this secret. When I moved in with Dad, she
could have told me…told Tiffany. She drank herself silly instead of telling
anyone she had a sister. She let me be the victim of her hatred of someone I
didn't know about.
After I picked my jaw up off the floor and really thought about it, it all
made sense. I reminded Grandma of someone. That someone was Sierra,
and Mom hated it. She hated that I was compared to Sierra.
I considered the necklaces. I knew there was a connection, but I
thought Dad had bought them both, too cheap to be original. But again, why
would Mom wear something that reminded her of betrayal?
I shifted to find a comfortable position. Whatever the nurse gave me
made me feel better. I was waiting for them to return so I could have yet
another CT scan and blood work.
The doctors who rushed in and kicked Joseph out were talking among
themselves, as if they forgot I existed. They suspected I had a complication
called a pulmonary embolism.
I was much more interested in the conversation going on outside the
door, like the bit about how I reminded my mom of Sierra. That I liked to
clean and organize. So, whatever happened between Mom and Sierra must
have been bad. It had to go beyond just an affair.
How did that justify keeping me from my cousin Leah? She deserved
better than this. Maybe Tiffany would have treated her better if she knew.
But at the same time, there was Sierra. She knew about my mother. Yet,
she still formed a relationship with my father. Mom was subjecting me to
her own prejudices, but could she have had that hard of a time reconciling
her relationship with her sister that she couldn't separate the two? And what
was Sierra's motive?
 I took a deep breath, finding it still hard to breathe. My heart was
pounding. I was sick of the lies. Whatever was happening with Mom and
how our relationship would go forward was up in the air.
What I needed right now was to think about what life was going to be
like going forward. I was in for a long recovery, relying on a family I
couldn't trust. I had a boyfriend into drugs, and I was still no closer to
knowing who wanted to harm me.
I watched the door. 'Hello!' I shouted.
I didn’t want to be alone."

OceanofPDF.com
 THIRTY SEVEN
Mark
2006
Sierra was fuming. Sherry was fuming. Lotus was trying to get money out
of Joseph, and he was blowing her off. Why couldn’t he just do me this one
thing and give her what she wanted before she blew up my entire world?
She kept glancing me looks. She had me cornered. She had me by the
balls. I wiped some sweat from my forehead. All I wanted was for Mira not
to associate with that boy.
I wanted to protect her from getting herself in trouble. She had always
been an outcast, not having a lot of friends, so the first boy to show her
attention she takes it.
“So, what the hell were you doing with Lotus, or whatever the hell her
name is?” Sierra said with her hands on her hips. She wasn’t as mad as
Sherry would have been, but still, she wanted an explanation I couldn’t
give.
Sherry glared at Lotus and mumbled. “She really gets around. She and
Sierra would be the best of friends…”
“Just go home! I don’t have any money,” Joseph was trying to protest.
I reached into my pocket. I only had a twenty. That wouldn’t be enough
to entice her to leave. The whole thing with my car.
“Oh, come on, Joey. Help your mom out.”
“Why don’t you just go ask your lover or something?” Joseph shouted
back.
“Can someone give this woman some money so she’ll go?” Sherry
stood. “Or maybe you can take her to the bank and give her some money.
Because obviously you and her have been having some kind of thing. How
long? Two, three, four years? Or maybe it didn’t stop. Just the disrespect
and the awkward position you’ve put Joseph in.”
Lotus rolled her eyes. “Nah, our affair stopped abruptly. He paid me a
couple hundred dollars to keep quiet. Then he contacted me last night out of
the blue. He needed me.”
 “Yeah, I needed something,” I interrupted, trying to shut her up before
she went any farther, “but you didn’t deliver, so why don’t you just leave?
And take your son with you.”
“That isn’t my fault. Shall I go into more detail about why that didn’t
happen? Why what you wanted, wasn’t possible and surely it isn’t my
fault.” She approached me and pulled me gently by the collar.
I pushed her away. “I don’t know what the hell happened last night, but
you pulled something.”
She smirked. “And what exactly happened, Mark?”
She was playing me. She was making me reveal bits and pieces of
things I didn’t want to share.
“I mean, you’re going around making demands when it looks like you
seem to be the root of all these problems. You don’t seem very loyal. And
from the sounds of it, and yes, I heard bits and pieces of it. You decided to
have relationships with two sisters, then cheat on them both. But sure, my
son is the problem. If he was so bad, why didn’t you stop her the moment
you found out they were together? Seems like you want to blame everyone
else except your own.”
“Will you shut up?” I yelled at her. “I bet anything you were the one
who stole my car last night…” I wished I could take back that statement.
Lotus turned and put her hands on her hips. “Oh really?”
“Just leave…” I was flustered.
Then Lotus stared at Sierra and smirked.
“How’s your perfect relationship?” Sherry asked Sierra as she walked
past.
God damn shut up…
“It’s kind of funny,” Lotus hackled as she said it, “but just further
shows what kind of hypocrite you are and how you can’t take responsibility.
You called me because you wanted me to break up your daughter and my
son?”
Joseph jumped up. “What?”
Lotus shrugged. “Relax. You’re eighteen years old. Son, these high
school romances never last. And if it was meant to be nothing, I or Mark did
would interfere with that. I saw an opportunity that benefited me. And my
god did Mark and I have a fun time last night. Should have seen the cocaine
lines he had? He’s a dirty cheater, but man is he fun to be around. We drove
to another bar a few blocks away because the bar we were at was too cool.
We had some shots, danced. But by like almost one am, he got all soft on
me. So, we had a quickie in the backseat of his car. He dropped me off back
at the bar and left.”
How can she remember what the hell happened, but I don’t? She knew
way more. Like what the hell happened to my car?
I clenched my fists.
“What the hell is wrong with the both of you?” Sherry shook her head.
“Trying to break up your daughter’s relationship. You wanting to get some
sex and drugs, so you’ll go and sabotage your son’s relationship? So, is that
why you didn’t show up at the hospital until so late in the morning because
you were partying with your lover? So, what the hell was Sierra doing?”
“Oh, shut up. You’re the one with the DUI!” Sierra spat back.
Only Sierra couldn’t have hit Mira with my car. “Where were you at
2am last night, Lotus?”
“From one am to closing, I was at the bar. We left the diva bar at
around 12:50am, and I was inside dancing and drinking after that. I’m sure
we can talk to the bartender and surveillance. I’m not sure why what I was
doing matters when you should be worrying about what you remember.”
“That is a good question.” The detective from earlier showed up.
Detective Lopez. We all stared at him, Sierra and Lotus looking the
guiltiest. I struggled to keep my face blank, neutral. “We got a call about a
noise complaint, and I happened to be in the area," Lopez added, but I was
horrified to realize—he probably never left.
I turned to look at them and shuffled from foot to foot.
“I was actually just coming to ask you about something very particular,
Mr. Harris,” Lopez continued. “While discussing what happened with your
daughter, Mr. Harris, another officer mentioned he pulled you over earlier,
regarding a stop sign…”
All eyes were on me. “Yeah, it was a hit and run, and I think Lotus
here, who I was with part of last night, stole my car and crashed it…”
The detective nodded and looked at Lotus.
She rolled her eyes. “I arrived at the bar, Frantz over on third, at around
seven. Then Mr. Harris here, Mark, arrived around 10:30pm. We hung out
in the back of my car for a bit, then he drove us to Mike’s dive bar a few
blocks away. We had a few drinks, talked, and had a quickie in the back seat
before he dropped me off back at Frantz at around one. The bartender,
surveillance and pretty much all the locals there can vouch I was there. So,
I’m not sure where he was, but I sure as hell didn’t borrow his car or
whatever he claims.”
Lopez looked confused for a moment, then deeply frowned. “Why
don’t we go for a walk, Mr. Harris? Just to chat.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t like where this was going. “I-I think I want
to talk to a lawyer.”
Sherry stormed up to me. “What the hell did you do? If you know who
could have hit Mira with their car, my god, why don’t you tell them what
you know?”
I didn’t say anything. Not when it looked like it was my car that hit my
daughter. I stumbled backward.
“He doesn’t know what happened to Mira,” Sierra spat back.
“Oh, will you shut the hell up? If he doesn’t know what the hell
happened to Mira, then why the hell is he asking for a lawyer?”
Soon, the other detective from earlier showed up. “Mr. Harris, we’ll
need for you to come down to the station for questioning.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere right now. Not until I find
out for sure that my daughter is okay. We are all just waiting to hear about
her condition.”
“We just want to find out what happened to Mira,” the detective said.
I stood, my heart pounding. “And I want to know what happened to my
daughter, too. And I don’t like where this is going. When I know my
daughter is okay, and I can get ahold of a lawyer for my own protection, I’ll
for sure answer whatever the hell you need.”
Detective Lopez turned to Lotus. “Well, for sure, we'll look into your
alibi.”
Lotus shrugged. “Do whatever you need to. For my son's sake, I hope
they find out who harmed Mira. She is simply lovely.” She side-hugged
Joseph, whose face was beet red, and he was staring at me with a look that
could kill. “Is there anything else you need from me, officers?”
The detective handed her a card. “If you think of anything that could
help, please give us a call.”
She nodded. “Will do.”
She turned to Joseph and me, smiled, and was on her way. I leaned
back against the wall. If what Lotus said was true, then that means... I hit
Mira in my car. I put Mira in the hospital. It would be me that left her for
dead. The worst part about it was I didn't remember any of it.
And could Mira forgive me for it? My career? My relationships with
not just Mira but Tiffany will be beyond repair? I could lose it all.
Fuck!

OceanofPDF.com
 THIRTY EIGHT
Mira
2006

I pressed the emergency button, and the nurses rushed in, but what I really
needed was my family. I tossed in the bed as much as my body would
allow, trying to forget about my broken legs and fractured skull, but the
sheets twisted around me. Each time I closed my eyes, the word 'aunt'
echoed in my mind, jolting me awake. Especially with no details. Sierra
was my aunt. Sierra knew she was my aunt and had said nothing. What
reason could she have for keeping quiet?
Mom had kept that secret for years. She harbored so much baggage,
anger, and God knows what else for so long. I deserved to know everything.
I deserved to know so many things. Did I even know my mom?
The nurse asked if I was feeling okay, but I was hurting all over again.
She followed the same routine, asked the routine questions, and inquired
about my pain. I said I was in pain, leaving off the last part.
My eyes darted towards the door every time it opened, and each rustle
of the curtains intensified a silent hope that it would be my family walking
in. “I want to see my family. Right now, I don't want to be alone here. I
can’t sleep knowing something is wrong with me...”
My chest felt tight, each heartbeat thumping against my ribs like a
drum, but they gave me something to relax. The nurse gave me a look that
was a mix of pity and understanding. Maybe they had sent my family home
after all the arguing. I could only imagine the drama that must have
unfolded behind those closed doors. But I needed to see them, all of them,
desperately.
“I want to see them. All of them. Please.”
The nurse sighed lightly and smiled. “Okay, we'll make an exception.
Three people, but only until you're taken for more tests.”
“Thank you.” I thought she would definitely say no, leaving me to
suffer alone.
“Which three?” the nurse asked me.
 That stopped me. Only three? My mind raced. I wanted Joseph,
definitely, but I needed to see my dad, too. The problem was, Dad and
Joseph couldn't stand each other. So, for now, I had to pick one.
The nurse narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently, as if
every second I wasted mattered.
“My parents and…” who else did I want?
The nurse turned to leave.
“And my sister, Tiffany.”
After the nurse left, I knew it would confuse everybody. Sierra would
likely feel jealous. But I wanted everything to feel normal again. I wanted
just one more moment with my parents together, with my sister and me like
in the old days. Before Dad abandoned us for Sierra. Before meeting Joseph
and the events of the past twenty-four hours, when my family was still
whole. I knew I could never have that life back. But I could pretend for just
one moment. Maybe that was what I needed.

OceanofPDF.com
 THIRTY NINE
Mark
2006

The detectives had left, but I knew they'd be back. Suspicion hung in the
air, a cloud of doubt I couldn't shake off. Me, involved in Mira's accident?
The very thought was absurd, yet here I was, grappling with it. A father, my
own daughter, a car collision — it was a nightmare scenario. Clinging to the
belief in my innocence was all I had.
Sierra was sitting alone in the corner on her phone, while Sherry was,
thankfully, on the other side of the large area, looking toward Mira's room. I
was so thankful when a nurse came out and walked toward us.
I couldn't deal with Sierra not telling me she knew Sherry, or with
Sherry keeping that from me our entire marriage. I felt a little less guilty
about all the lies I told Sherry because she was just as guilty.
"Is she okay?" Sherry didn't waste any time and was right there in the
nurse's face.
The nurse nodded. "She is conscious and requesting visitors."
I tried to take control of the situation and looked toward Sierra. "We'll
go in..."
Sherry was about to interject, saying that she's the mother, and Sierra is
scum, and cause a scene before the nurse put her hand up to stop us.
"Can't you just make an exception for the one-visitor rule? Maybe more
support will make her feel better." I tried to reason.
The nurse let out an exasperated sigh. "Hold on, all of you. She has
made a specific request about who she wants to see."
I stared at Joseph, my heart beating. I didn't want to be in the same
room with him and sure as hell didn't want him around my daughter any
more.
Joseph didn't move, but looked with anticipation toward the nurse.
I shuffled from foot to foot.
"She requested her parents and her sister," the nurse said.
 I stared at Sierra, who was beet red, and I was about to object because
clearly, spending any time alone with Sherry after everything that had
happened was the last thing I should do. She would already have serious
trust issues.
Joseph stood and headed toward us. "If that is what Mira wants, Sierra
and I will stay out here, won't we?"
She bit her lip. "I’ll stay out here with Joseph. Go be with your
daughter. Because I need some time to think about…”
Sherry and Tiffany were already heading into the room. I stopped to
make sure Sierra was okay. “Just go already!”
I followed into the room. Mira was sitting up. She looked pale and out
of sorts, definitely not as well as the first time I saw her. I forced a smile,
especially with everything else going on.
"How are you feeling?" Sherry asked her.
Mira took a deep breath, holding her chest. "T-they think I have
something called an embolism or something. I'm getting more tests done."
She took another deep breath.
Sherry looked at me, clearly expecting me to say something.
"That was the same complication a friend of mine had when he had
surgery. But he recovered well. Mira is tough." It was probably not
something I should have said, but I just wanted to keep the focus on Mira.
Mira looked down. "I-I overheard part of the argument out there."
Mira literally ripped the band-aid off. This was so bad. What did she
know? Why did she need to know, and why couldn't just one member of the
family not bring up shit?
Sherry looked away. "W-what did you hear?"
"Sierra is my aunt…" Then she looked at me. "You willingly brought
the two of them together. I just didn't realize Mom hated her that much. I
thought it was just because you left us for her. B-but…" Mira stopped to
catch her breath.
Tiffany jumped up. "Can you even believe it? Turns out Leah is our
cousin. Seriously, our grandma had this secret affair! So really, it’s
Grandma's fault. But anyway, Sierra, she's just so bitter because Grandma
wouldn't leave Grandpa. She got so mad she tried to burn their house down,
and they shipped her off to live with some relatives. And for some twisted
reason, she blames Mom for all of it. She should have blamed her mom.
Not our mom. She's been trying to poison us against Mom, but she's just a
psychopath. Clearly."
"Hey…" I came to Sierra's rescue. "We don't know for sure what the
full truth is. Just because your mom has an issue with Sierra doesn't mean
anything."
Sherry clenched her fist.
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Seriously, stop upsetting everyone with your
bullshit, Dad. Like Mira wants the truth. Not your justifications for
abandoning us and choosing the homewrecker's side. And guess what? She
harassed Mom, even left voicemails. Tormented her until she couldn't take
the gaslighting anymore. Don't even try to pretend that's normal. But you're
still defending her. Oh, I know why — because you couldn't care less about
us, right? So typical."
"Just shut up already. Stop being a disrespectful brat." I had it with
Tiffany.
"It's your fault she is here." Tiffany started to cry.
Mira then burst into tears. "Stop fighting."
Sherry stood. "Look what you're doing? Yes, I have issues with Sierra.
But my god, try to have some compassion for once."
"You're the biggest hypocrite in the world. And maybe start caring, like
telling the detectives what you know instead of lawyering up." Tiffany
blurted out. "Or maybe stop fucking Joseph's mother behind everyone's
back."
Mira's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "What?"
"Yeah, he hates your boyfriend because he was having a relationship
with Joseph's mom. He hurt mom really badly and tried to make her look
like the bad one. I wouldn't believe anything he says honestly. And Poor
Joseph was just as shocked as the rest of us. Like honestly, I wished Dad
would have gotten hit by a car instead of you, Mira. Like I'm sorry for
everything I put you through because you don't deserve this. I-I promise
things will be different, Mira."
Tiffany looked down at her feet.
Sherry wrapped her arm around Tiffany, telling her it wasn’t her fault.
I felt the urge to walk out. The pain and anger ran deep. Tiffany was
going to make things much worse, and just being here wasn't going to help.
I didn't want to see Mira having to choose.
"I-I'm glad you are doing better, Mira."
 "Things will be different, I promise," Sherry said.
Sherry gritted her teeth but said nothing. She cleared her throat. I
turned around, and there were both detectives from earlier at the door.
"Mr. Harris, we need to have a few words with you outside."
"Can this wait?"
"No, it can't," they responded curtly and matter-of-factly.
I turned to look at Mira. "This will only take a minute. Your mom and
sister will be here."
I watched as Sherry's gaze followed me, praying she would stay put.
I followed the detectives out into the hall.
“I’ll be right back,” I heard Sherry tell Tiffany and Mira.
Why, Sherry, are you being so difficult?
"What can I do for you?" I asked, not liking where this was going, not
one bit.
I looked at Sierra, then back at Sherry, who looked like she was about
to burst.
I looked Lotus, who stood near Joseph.
“Why don't you go in and be with Mira? Who knows, she may need
your support," Lotus said to that little punk.
Joseph rolled his eyes at his mother and proceeded into the room. I
wanted more than anything to drag him away from her, but at least he
wasn't alone with her. Tiffany was there. But after she got out of the
hospital, what would I do to protect her? I needed to convince her that she
could do so much better. She had it really good at Sierra and my house.
“We’ll need you to go down to the station. And you can have your
lawyer meet us there.”
Sierra approached me and wrapped her arm around me. “Why don’t we
just find out what they want? We have nothing to hide.”
Detective Lopez stared at Sierra for a moment. Sierra shifted from foot
to foot nervously.
“Okay, fine!” I mumbled. With Sherry looking my way, and Sierra's
confidence that we did nothing wrong, if I refused to cooperate, it would
only look bad.
Sherry just stood there, her mouth parted, itching to say something.
“What do you need to know so I can get back to my daughter?”
“We talked to a witness outside of Frantz Bar.”
Sierra shifted from foot to foot.
 I looked down at my feet as they were rubbing my cheating in her face.
“Okay?”
“There was a burning in my throat. I was just waiting for them to slap
some handcuffs on me, tell me that I was under arrest for hitting my
daughter with my car.”
“Can you go through with us once again where you went?”
“Back to the hotel room. I really don’t remember much after visiting
with Lotus. We hung out a bit. Had a few drinks. Waited around in my car
until it was safe to drive, then beyond that, not a lot. I couldn’t tell you how
I even got back to the hotel, what happened to my car, or any of that.”
“We will have someone review surveillance from the hotel and bar to
confirm when you left and when you arrived at the hotel.”
Sierra bit her lip. “Is there anything else you need from us?”
I kept making side glances toward Sherry, who was becoming
increasingly annoyed. Detective Lopez seemed to catch a whiff.
“What is the deal between you, Sierra Gold, and Sherry Harris, who is
Mira’s mother? I overheard from a nurse that you two have some history
outside of you dating her ex-husband?”
Sierra shrugged. “I guess.”
Then Detective Lopez looked at Sherry and walked over to her. Sherry
openly shared an abridged version of Sierra being her sister and how she
had an affair with me. She wasn’t holding back.
Sierra gritted her teeth. “We were estranged for twenty years. I didn’t
know she was with Mark; otherwise, I wouldn’t have dated him.”
Sherry mumbled something about what a liar she was.
Then Detective Green took Sherry away from all of us so we couldn’t
hear. Except Sherry wasn’t exactly discreet with how she was feeling. She
shook her head. “So, you’re telling me you suspect my ex-husband of
running into his daughter?”
My mouth went dry.
"I've known that man for twenty-four years. He is a cheater, a deadbeat
who couldn't keep it in his pants, but he is no killer. There is no logical
explanation why he would go meet up with Lotus, who he admitted to
everyone he only saw because he wanted to end Mira's relationship with her
son. So why would he go to those lengths, drive to the area Mira was near,
run into her, and go back to the hotel room? I don't know what the hell
happened to his car, but I don't believe he would run into Mira. You guys
are barking up the wrong tree."
Then the detective said something else to her. Sherry looked in our
general direction, then turned to the detective and said something we
couldn't see. Both Sierra and I were looking at Sherry, but saying nothing.
She was speaking really quietly. I was glad that Sherry was defending
me. That she knew me well enough to believe I wouldn't hurt our daughter.
And why would I drive in the direction of Joseph and Lotus's house?
I glared at Lotus, who was still standing there, enjoying all this drama.
She was confident in her alibis. But that doesn't mean she didn't do
something before we got back to the bar.
Unless she was protecting Joseph. Who knows what he could have
done to her? Took advantage of her confused state, and the two of them
came up with a cover story. Mira asked what happened, and he told her.
She'd have no reason not to believe him.
And who knows if the surveillance didn't suddenly disappear. I hated
this.
I hated not knowing if I could be involved.
Detective Green and Sherry walked this way. Sherry headed back
towards Mira's room.
"We'll need to take your car in for evidence, Mr. Harris. Then I need an
official statement down at the station from all of you."
"Why don't you say bye to Mira, then we can just get this over with,"
Sierra told me. Her body language was curt. "Take your time."
Detective Green whispered something to Detective Lopez before
turning his attention toward us.
"Do you want to say bye as well?"
Sierra shook her head. "You can handle her just fine. Besides, I need to
keep an eye on your doxy."
I felt like a complete idiot, and I could tell Sierra was pissed at me. She
was pissed I had cheated on her. I wanted so badly to drag Lotus by her
goddamn hair and drag her out of here like the snake she was. I hated
myself for cheating. What if Sierra decides I'm not worth the risk and sends
me packing? But what if she was afraid that I would go back to Sherry? I
believed her when she said that she wouldn't have pursued me if she knew
Sherry was her sister. I believed she likely realized afterward who Sherry
was and tried to contact her, and Sherry overreacted.
 I nodded and headed into the room where Sherry, Tiffany, and Joseph
were around Mira. Mira was holding her phone, shaking a bit.
Tiffany moved from where she stood and around to the other side of
her mom.
"We need to go make a statement at the police station," I said.
Sherry glared at me and back at Mira. "They just have a few questions
about the commotion that went on today. They just want to dot every I."
Mira stared at me, blinking a few times. She still looked ashen. "I was
told you left the hotel room. Where did you go? Was that when you went
to..."
I gritted my teeth. "Y-yes. And I regret it deeply." I swallowed, my
Adam's apple bobbing. "I love you, sweetie. And I'll come visit again soon
when there isn't so much going on. We can talk about it more then. Okay?"
I just hoped that by then, the police could prove that I wasn't
responsible and that this whole thing would blow over. Sierra and I could
go back to the way things were. I would explain to Sierra my reasons. She
would understand. She would have to understand. And she'd give me her
side of the story about all this shit that was going on with Sherry. Then the
real person who tried to kill Mira would be caught. That was what was
going to happen. It had to happen.
"That sounds good. Besides, I am really tired, and I'm supposed to be
taken for some more tests soon here."
Sherry, Tiffany, and I said our goodbyes before leaving Joseph alone
with her. A few minutes later, he joined us in the hallway.
Sherry purposely brushed Sierra's shoulder and mumbled, "Why are
you so glum? What goes around comes around." Then she and Tiffany
walked down the hallway toward the front.
Next, Lotus approached us. "It was nice seeing you, Mark." She stared
at Sierra and smirked, but Sierra looked away. "I'm sure we'll get down to
the bottom of this mystery soon. Will we?"
"Let's go," Joseph said as he pulled his mother down the hallway.
Once they all left, I walked with Sierra, who was keeping her distance.
"Please talk to me."
She hugged herself. "What is there to say? You cheated on me. And I
didn't tell you how I knew Sherry when I found out. We are both liars. Now
let's focus on finding out who would want to hurt such a lovely girl like
Mira."
 Then she walked ahead of me, not even holding my hand, or showing
me any kind of affection.
She was stoic and fuming. The unspoken words were the worst. When
this was all over again, I’d make things right. I’d propose, we’d get married,
and I’ll adopt Leah. I’ll make all her dreams come true.

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 FORTY
Sierra
2006

"Want to stop at the hospital after work?" Mark asked me as he brought me

a cup of coffee.
I hadn't seen Mira yet. It had been a few days. I hadn't wanted to risk
running into Sherry again. She had a way of pushing my buttons, and I was
afraid if I came in contact with her, I'd knock her out. While the police
interrogation was pretty straightforward, they still hadn't made an arrest.
"Yeah, if she isn't there."
Mark sat beside me, took my hands in his, and looked me in the eye.
"I'll make sure she isn't there. I'll even call Mira and ask her when a good
time is. She's been doing so much better."
"Okay!"
We sat there in silence, drinking coffee. Leah was already at school,
and I just wanted a moment of peace and quiet, without thinking of
teenagers, Mira's accident, and Mark cheating on me with Lotus. It was bad
enough that he cheated on Sherry with Lotus. But me. It was a betrayal I
wasn't quite ready to forgive just yet.
Then the doorbell rang.
Mark and I looked at each other before he headed toward the front
door. He looked through the peephole, and his face went deep red. "It's the
police."
I wiped some sweat from my forehead, and Mark looked like he was
about to pass out. I mean, he didn't remember driving home from seeing his
lover, and they seemed to think that his car was involved. Then Lotus
turned on him. I hated to see him in this situation when he could have just
stayed at the hotel with me.
"Just answer the door before they break it down. Relax, we both know
you didn't do anything wrong." Deep down, I knew he didn't drive out to
hurt Mira, and a good lawyer, which he could afford, would make this
whole problem go away.
 Mark swallowed the lump in his throat and answered the door. "G-good
morning, officers." Then we both saw Detective Lopez. "What can I do for
you?"
"We are looking for Sierra Gold."
Mark looked at me, and then back at them. "For what?" He shuffled
from foot to foot, but I took a step forward.
I put on a fake smile, but I had a feeling this wasn't going to go as Mark
was hoping. "Hello, I'm Sierra Gold. How can I help you? I have to get to
work soon."
I saw him go for his waistband where his handcuffs were. Mark didn't
say a word. He didn't have to. My heart pounded a bit. This wasn't what I
expected.
"We have a warrant for your arrest."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mark came to my defense when
he should really sit down and be quiet before he makes things worse.
I cooperated by putting my hands behind my back.
I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs click around my wrists as the
officer declared, "Sierra Gold, you're under arrest for a hit and run, causing
bodily harm." I purposely showed no emotion. I stood there stone-faced. No
crying. No hysterics. All I could think about was what evidence they had
against me.
He continued with the routine, saying, "You have the right to remain
silent; You have the right to an attorney. In case you are unable to afford an
attorney, the court will provide one for you. Do you understand these
rights?"
"Yes," I said with much conviction.
This time, I made eye contact with Mark, my eyes brimming with tears.
"This is just a big misunderstanding. You'll see." I said as they marched me
out the front door. They didn't even allow me to gauge his reaction.
A female officer patted me down. Not sure what they were expecting to
find in my pajama pants with no pockets, and t-shirt, but they did what they
had to do.
Inside the back of the cop car, all I could do at this very moment was
exercise my right to remain silent. As I sat there, handcuffed, and confined,
both literally and figuratively, my mind wandered back to the events and
choices that led me to this moment.
 I had hit Mira with her own father’s car, and Joseph Oliver had
witnessed the accident. Only I didn’t see him. Mark, unable to keep his
emotions together, got himself pulled over for running a stop sign.
However, I couldn’t blame them entirely. Years and years of resentment
reared its head at the worst time. But it wasn’t too late to change the course
of all of this.
Lotus, that little bitch, also Joseph’s mother, manipulated and slept with
my man. She laughed at me, smiled, and asked me why I was mad. She had
all those businessmen buying her drinks. She flirted her way through all
those sleazeballs. I got myself kicked out of the bar. She played me, and I
wasn't about to let that slide.
A good lawyer would rip apart her and her son’s character on the stand.
As a respected accountant with no adult criminal record, who would
honestly believe I had it out for Mira? I got her a job. My juvenile record
was sealed, anyway.
I wasn't even sure Mark believed I was capable of such violence. He
was so in love with me. Ever since he left Sherry, he’d constantly tell me I
was his soulmate and that he should have never married Sherry. The truth
was, I was the smarter, prettier, and saner sister. And I made sure of it. He
knew how unstable Sherry was, so a bit of convincing would make this go
away. But also, I’m sure a part of his perception was his own guilt.
I wouldn't let this bring me down. My journey began when I spent my
life waiting for the right moment to have the life I deserved. Born from an
affair, they often reminded me that I was a mistake. My biological father
abandoned me, instructing my mother to only contact him if she put me up
for adoption. I could have had a normal life if they had followed through
with that.
I had a stepfather, but he didn't want me because he had his real
daughter, Sherry. All I wanted was to be loved. I did things to get attention,
like trying to light the couch on fire and blaming Sherry. But it didn't work.
I screamed, yelled, and broke things to show my mom that I wasn't okay.
When that didn't work, I tried being extra nice and helpful.
I got attention, but not the kind I wanted. My Aunt Susan and Uncle
Brian had a solution for my mom. They invited me to come live with them.
They didn't have children and thought they could give me a better life. I
thought this would be my happy ending, but they never officially adopted
me. They still saw me as my mom's 'bastard daughter.' That was the '70s
and '80s for you. It only made me more resentful.
I acted out. I got into fights and even threatened a teacher with a knife.
I shoplifted. I must have been picked up by the police at least a dozen times
and weaved a sob story for sympathy. One time, I vandalized a neighbor's
garage. I lied a lot. I got so good at it that people believed everything I said
because I could keep a straight face and my story straight. I didn't know any
other way because it was the only thing to get me what I needed.
When I visited my mom, she wanted me to come back. I made a
mistake. I took my stepfather's car without permission. I didn't mean to; I
just wanted to have some fun and thought it would help me fit in. But then I
accidentally crashed the car. I was only eight years old. My stepfather made
Mom choose between him and Sherry or me. Mom chose them. So, I had to
leave.
On Christmas day, when I was eleven and staying with Mom for the
holidays, Sherry returned home. Sherry, twenty years old, had been dating
Mark for a few months. Mom mentioned Sherry was living with Mark, but
he had to work. I think Sherry made up this excuse to keep me from seeing
him. Mom explained Sherry felt embarrassed by our family.
Those three days with Sherry that Christmas were the worst. It was that
year Mom gave us both ivory pendant necklaces. The irony of it didn't
escape me, even then. There was an ethical controversy, so much so that it
was now illegal to sell ivory.
I remember seeing her give Sherry her necklace while she thought I
was in the bathroom. “I want you to know that I’m sorry I cheated on your
dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the sister you deserved. You understand
this mistake means nothing. So please try to get along. Otherwise, I’ll have
to stop her from coming over.”
Later that night, she gave me mine. “I wished I had met your father
first. I wished things would have been so different.” It wasn’t until much
later that I realized what she was doing and what this necklace represented.
She didn't want to be responsible for her affair. She didn't want to
support me and was too selfish to let me go. I could have gone to people
who genuinely wanted me. She chose Sherry instead of me. Sherry felt
threatened by me, even though it wasn't my fault. Yet, she blamed me. By
the time I became an adult, my relationship with her had fallen apart. She
heard me telling Mom that she had to choose between me and her. Mom
chose her.
The necklace was the only thing I had left of my mother. It symbolized
the connection I had to Sherry. It reminded me I couldn’t stop until I had
taken from her what I had never had. Only once I achieved that goal could I
finally be at peace.
Even as an adult, I never stopped trying to gain approval. I met Leah's
father in my last year of accounting. He was married and said all the right
things. He was also very enjoyable to be around. I thought this would be the
key to getting approval from my mother and gave us something to connect
over.
But my expectations backfired when I became pregnant with Leah. The
father abandoned me and denied being the father. I was ready to take him to
court for child support and to tell his wife everything. My mom was furious.
She called me a mistake and told me to stop embarrassing myself. She
urged me to pretend I was a surrogate mother and give Leah up for
adoption. She didn't want her "mistake" thrown in her face.
For years, Mom picked sides. She chose Sherry and her kids over me
and Leah. The day she died should have brought relief. On her deathbed,
she apologized for not being there for me and Leah but said that Sherry
made her choose. I could never forgive her for that.
But then I stalked Sherry. I wanted to know what made her so special.
So, I studied her life. I learned that Mark, her husband, was having an affair
with another woman, Lotus. I overheard conversations about Sherry's
paranoia.
At that moment, I reconsidered. I believed that if I told her about her
cheating husband, she would want a relationship with me. But when I saw
her at the supermarket, she looked at me with disgust. She said they had
nothing to talk about now that Mom was dead. Once again, she rejected me.
That was when I decided that if she couldn’t appreciate what she had, I
would take it from her. I waited. I watched. I was patient. I saw how she
treated Mira in public. She was often annoyed, embarrassed even. But Mira
was such a delightful and perfect child. The child I wished Leah was. Leah
was loud, spontaneous, and over the top. I wanted Sherry’s family. I wanted
to give Leah a father and a sister. I wanted to have the life I never got to
have. And Sherry was going to give me hers.
 I got myself an invitation to a company party where Mark worked. I
knew he flirted with women and was an easy lay. I complimented him, and
by the end of the night, I had sent Leah home with a babysitter. We
exchanged numbers and spent the night together.
It was difficult to get him to leave his wife. I had to listen to him
complain about Sherry. Sherry was becoming more controlling and
paranoid. I acted like a caring and patient girlfriend. I told Leah that living
with Mark would be great, so we could be a happy family. Leah saw Mark
as the dad she never had. I knew it was wrong to use Leah to manipulate the
situation, but she was benefiting from my deception. Sometimes we have to
do morally wrong things to get what we want.
Soon, I told him he deserved to be happy. I told him I didn't want to be
this afterthought anymore, and that I loved him. But he needed to make a
choice. I even intentionally distanced myself, and the risk paid off. A few
weeks later, he left Sherry. The icing on the cake was when he served her
divorce papers at her work. It took all my restraint not to reveal to her then
that I had stolen her man. My revenge wasn't complete.
He fell deeply in love with me. For the first time, a man like Mark
loved me. He didn't know that I was Sherry's sister. He was attracted to me.
He treated Leah as his own. It even got to where we talked about marriage
and him adopting Leah. Everything was falling into place, but I still needed
to steal her kids from her.
Then one day, I ran into Oscar, Leah's worthless biological father, at a
grocery store we frequented. He tried to avoid me, but I confronted him. He
said he still didn't want Leah. I told him he could either talk to me or I
would make his life very difficult.
By chance, I discovered he was friends with Joseph Oliver, the boy
dating Sherry's daughter. It was a perfect situation. So, I paid him and
threatened to take him to court for child support if he didn’t agree to keep
an eye on Joseph. And when I found out he was driving Joseph and Mira to
the nightclub, I convinced Mark to take me out that night.
Mira looked so much like Sherry. She even dressed provocatively, with
dark hair, and had similar facial expressions. I was amazed. And when she
brushed off her dad, I thought I had my work cut out for me. But the
following day, Mira moved in. Having her around actually surprised me. I
liked having her around.
 Surprisingly, she bonded well with Leah, giving her the sister, she had
always yearned for. It seemed like everything was falling into place. But I
needed to alienate Tiffany from her mother. I taunted Sherry. I called her,
carefully saying all the right things. I wanted to see her unravel. She was
too embarrassed about her husband leaving her for me to stop me. I wanted
everyone to see her as the problem, the same way everyone thought I was
the crazy one. It wasn't too hard. Her behavior became erratic.
I thought Tiffany might want to come live with us too if she became
more unstable. Otherwise, Mark would have to force his hand. I knew
Tiffany and her mom were close, but not as close as they actually were. It
took a DUI to fully unravel that bitch. But Tiffany was a nightmare to live
with.
Again, I was patient. But then Mira did the one thing I never expected
out of her. She went behind all our backs and tried to get Tiffany to go back
to her mom. She still wanted to put that woman first. I didn’t understand it.
I was so angry last night. While Mark and I were out, he couldn’t stop
thinking about Mira and Joseph being together. He became increasingly
distracted. He was texting a lot, and his attention wasn’t on me.
I read his texts with Lotus. Lotus was upfront in so many words about
what she wanted. He told her he needed to make sure I was asleep. I saw
him slip one of my sleeping pills into my drink. I waited until he went to the
bathroom to hide the drink.
I prepared myself an exact glass and drank it in front of him. And I
waited. I pretended to be asleep.
When he came back at shortly after one, he drank the glass he had
prepared for me. Only I added extra sleeping pills in it, and he went to
sleep.
He had smelled like sex and perfume. So, I checked his phone some
more. He was dumb enough to not clear his messages. I found out where
Lotus and he were hanging out. I had her house address from stalking her
son. So, I took Mark’s keys, and on the way to her house, I came across
Mira standing there in the street, off in a daze.
I was drunk. Mark had cheated on me. Mira was reuniting with her
mother. She wouldn't break up with her worthless boyfriend. Everything
was falling apart, and it was all Mira's fault. I wanted to hurt Sherry so
badly and not lose everything I had worked so hard for. I could have driven
back to the hotel and rethought my approach, but I didn't.
 I made the decision at the moment to hurt Mira. I stepped on the
accelerator. I watched as the car hit her. I watched as she went flying,
headfirst into the curb. I made the decision to leave her there and drove
away. I only wished I would have thought of a way to use her demise to my
advantage.
I should have gone back to the hotel after that, but I made the decision
to go confront Lotus. I would have been home free. But it wasn’t over yet.
My thoughts came crashing back to reality when we arrived at the
police station. The officers opened the back door of the police car, grabbed
me by the arm, and hauled me out. I knew the drill. I would be booked,
fingerprinted, and thrown into a holding cell. That, or they would take me to
an interrogation room where I’d call for a lawyer.
Regardless of what was about to happen, I couldn't ignore the fact that
Mira had crossed me. I thought she was just like me. I felt bad because she
had a mother who treated her like shit, and she was an outcast. She could
have had the stability I had to provide, and she could have found a
respectful boyfriend. But she chose her mother, and I wasn't about to let her
ruin everything. It was a shame. But now she was stuck with Sherry, who
will still hurt her like she hurt me. But that is a choice Mira will have to live
with.
As for Leah, I tried my best. I never had stability, and I did everything
within my power to provide her with that. If she wants to blame someone
for what happened to Mira, I’ll direct her in the right direction. Because
every decision has consequences and a justification. That goes for Mira, my
sister, my mother, and Leah herself.
The truth was, I wasn’t finished yet because, like I said, patience was a
virtue. I would stop at nothing to secure what Leah and I deserved. Either I
would get what I deserved within a few weeks when the charges were
dropped because of insufficient evidence, or years down the line as I left
prison. Nothing would stop me. No matter who stood in my way or what I
had to do, I was determined to get it.

OceanofPDF.com
 FORTY ONE
Mark
2006
I still couldn't figure out how the hell she even pulled it off. How did Sierra
outsmart me and pull off stealing my car without me even knowing? Then
to hit my daughter with it, with zero remorse. This was my fault. I brought
this woman into our lives. I trusted her. I loved her. She used me to get to
my family.
I must have read the angry text from Tiffany a million times. I meant
what I said in the hospital. I wished it was you and not Mira who got hit by
the car. Since you were the one to bring that bitch into our lives. And don’t
bother responding because I don’t have a dad any more.
She hated me. This wasn’t an angry teenager not getting her own way.
She actually felt she didn’t have a father. I was dead to her. She saw right
through Sierra, and I brushed her off, taking Sierra’s side one too many
times.
Lotus. I regret ever trusting that woman in the first place to help me
deal with my issue. She was mistake number one.
I walked around my house. Sierra had picked it out. I never really
wanted another large house, especially one not so white. But I loved Sierra.
I trusted her. What the hell was wrong with me?
Leah’s stuff was scattered, waiting to be picked up. I didn't have the
heart to pick up her things. I even missed her insane chatter. I was currently
on a leave of absence from work to deal with the fallout. So far, the news
hadn’t camped out my house looking for an interview.
A social worker came and took Leah after Sierra’s arrest. I wasn’t sure
if it was the school, the police, or a neighbor who tipped them off.
She begged me not to let them take her. “Mark... Please. I promise I’ll
stop talking so much. Call mom. You got to help Mom.” But I said nothing.
I couldn’t do anything at that moment because I wasn't her biological father.
We had talked about me potentially adopting Leah one day. But it just never
happened.
 I didn't have it in me to tell her. I'm sure she heard about her mother’s
arrest, but maybe not yet the details. I just didn't have it in me to tell her that
Sierra intentionally hurt Mira. There was no way Sherry would, or was even
in a great place to, take in her niece, so foster care was the only option.
I passed Mira’s room for what felt like the millionth time since I got
home. It was neat, just as she left it. I guess that was one thing Mira and
Sierra had in common. That was enough of a resemblance for Sherry to
shun her like nothing. Because, my God, they had nothing else in common.
But what kind of father was I? I couldn't even blame Sherry for this one
when I couldn't even build up the courage to see Mira after Sierra’s arrest. I
felt so much guilt. All I wanted was to take her away from a house where
her mother was tormenting her and provide her with a safe place. Instead, I
led her to someone who nearly killed her.
Maybe Tiffany was right. I should have stayed away. Maybe Mira’s life
was better before I tried to come back after abandoning them. Maybe I
should stay away now, and they can all move on without me.
The doorbell rang. I walked back to the living room and stared at the
door. I wasn't sure if it was going to be a news reporter. I could check my
phone for messages, but what was the point? I deserved everything that
came my way. I answered the door. It was Sherry. I was kind of surprised to
see her, after everything that had gone down.
"Are you busy?" Sherry looked tired and worn out.
I forced a smile, praying for some good news, not sure I'd get it from
my ex-wife, of all people. "How's Mira?"
"I had just got back from visiting her. She's doing better. They
confirmed it was, in fact, an embolism. It sounds like she may be
discharged in a couple of days if everything goes well. You could call or go
see her and see for yourself. I just stopped by to grab some stuff for her."
I openly let her inside. I wouldn't keep Mira from her belongings, and
Sherry seemed in one of her better moods.
Sherry looked around the living room. It was less cluttered and more
minimalistic than she was used to. But the way she frowned and rolled her
eyes said everything I needed to know.
I sighed. "If you came to gloat, then don't bother."
Her gaze narrowed. "Gloat? You think this is funny? Take a good look
around. Our family is in ruins. Tiffany despises you. And Mira's never
going to trust anyone ever again. Who could blame her, since we are the
world's worst parents? It's sad when her boyfriend is the person she can
count on the most. Meanwhile, I'm the mother of the year, pleading guilty to
driving drunk and crashing my car. At least it wasn't into my daughter. My
lawyer got me a good plea deal. Hell, even Sierra’s daughter, Leah, is
caught in the crossfire. But maybe she’ll be better off away from all of us.”
Then there were tears in Sherry’s eyes. “And even then, Mira won’t get
any real justice. Especially when she intended to harm her.”
I nodded. “They have a strong case against her, at least. They caught
her on surveillance in a few different places with my car. A piece of
headlight was found at the scene. There is even talk of upgrading her
charges to attempted murder.” I realized it probably wasn’t wise for Mira to
come back to this house. “I think it might be better if Mira goes back to
your house when she gets out.”
Sherry pulled away and looked at me funny.
“Who knows if Sierra will get bond? The last thing I want is for Mira
to come back to this house to the person who tried to kill her. She’s not safe
here. It’ll be bad enough me dealing with the fallout of all this. I have to
separate all our shared assets. It won’t be as easy as it was for you and me.”
Because I decided to date someone with no conscience and even with a
restraining order, who's to say that Sierra won’t try to attack Mira again.
Sherry scoffed. “Was it worth it? Throwing away your whole family for
her. I’m not trying to rub it in, but damn. Had I mentioned something about
her in the past, maybe we wouldn't find ourselves here. But at the end of the
day, we can’t go back in time. Like those at AA…”
I jumped up. “Wait, AA?”
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, AA. Don’t be so surprised. I’m an alcoholic.
I guess admitting it freely is the first step. I've been drinking every day
since you left. I hid it at first. It spiraled out of control, especially after Mira
left, too. I lost my job, my sense of self. And then, when Mira returned her
house key, it really hit me. It's been just a few weeks, but I'm trying to take
it one step at a time."
I slumped my shoulders. “I want you to know I’m sorry for how I
ended things with you.” I motioned for Sherry to come sit down. I was so
wrapped up in my own wants and desires that I never gave Sherry the
respect she deserved. We never did talk about the end of our marriage.
Sherry grimaced but sat in the chair adjacent to where I was sitting.
“Yeah, being caught off guard was an understatement. I knew we were
having problems, but I didn’t expect you were having an affair, never mind
leaving our family.”
I felt so ashamed. “The truth is, I didn’t know how to tell you that I
wanted out. While I think divorce was inevitable, how I went about it was
wrong, and I’m sorry for not giving you the respect you deserved.”
Sherry bounced her leg and avoided eye contact with me. “It broke my
heart. All I wanted was to give the girls an intact home. I spent the first
couple of months hoping, praying you’d come back. Pathetic, right? I was
so bitter and resentful that I neglected my part in being a good mother and a
good partner. But I sometimes wonder if we only got married in the first
place because I got pregnant with Mira.”
I did love Sherry. “Don’t think like that. We were happy at one point.
We were in love, and we had many great years together.”
Sherry looked at me seriously. “If you loved me, then why the affair
with Lotus? With Sierra?”
“I didn’t love Lotus. I was selfish, plain, and simple. I tried to justify it
to myself because we were arguing. But I liked the attention she gave me.
When you almost caught me, I stopped it and tried to make our marriage
work. With Sierra, I guess I liked what she showed me, even though now I
realize it was all fake. But I want you to believe that I loved you. That I
married you because I loved you.”
Sherry began to tear up. “I wish I had been upfront from the beginning
about Sierra, about why I didn't want her around and why I kept my mother
at arm's length. Then maybe things would have been different. Maybe I
would have been able to deal with the anger I had. And maybe…” She
sighed. “Maybe I wouldn't have been such a horrible mother.”
“Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda.” The exact same thing Mira told me back
when we were talking about school. I wished things were different.
"Well, I just want to gather a few of Mira’s things and be on my way. I
took too much of your time.”
I realized I really didn’t want her to go. I wanted to keep talking to her.
“Please, stay. Maybe.” I liked this side of Sherry. The side that can be
reasonable. While we may not be together anymore, thanks to me, at this
moment I really wanted her to stay so we could continue down memory
lane.
She shook her head. “I think we both know that we can’t go back to the
way things were again. I’m really glad we were finally able to sit down and
talk like this. I think it’s great that for the first time without me lashing out,
we could admit our faults. But I can't go down this road again. I’ve
accepted that we are over, and that our daughters will come from a broken
home. To move on, I need to mourn the life I dreamed of and accept that we
can't go back to the way things were. My goal going forward is to work on
improving my relationship with Mira. And maybe you can work on
improving things with Tiffany. And we can continue to work toward being
cordial? Please.”
I nodded. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for everything. And I
would love nothing more than to be able to be there as a united front going
forward for anything to do with the girls.”
After she gathered some of Mira’s stuff, she looked at me one last time
and gave me a hug. “Take care, Mark." Not even a snarky comment about
the size of her bedroom. I never did move Mira into the bigger bedroom
like I promised her.
I lay on the couch, staring at the four walls. What had my life become?
One minute I had Sierra. I left my family for her. I loved her with
everything I had. But it was all a lie. She showed me all the attributes that
attracted me to Sherry, her sister, and also showed me all the qualities I felt
were lacking in Sherry. Now, I was truly alone, and it was all my own
doing.
I looked out the window as Sherry got into a cab. Once she was fully
out of sight, the regret settled in. When Sherry and I got married, in that
moment, I had intended to spend my life with her. The births of our
daughters, Mira, and Tiffany, just a year apart, were two milestones I took
for granted.
Now I had lost them all. Now that I reflect on the past few years and all
my mistakes, reality was sinking in. For the first time since I made the
choice to leave my family for Sierra, I realized the grass wasn't truly
greener on the other side.

OceanofPDF.com
 FORTY TWO
Mira
2006

It’s been eight days, six hours, and some minutes since the hit-and-run
accident. I was so grateful to Joseph for taking me home. It was quite the
adventure, transferring and trying to get two broken legs into a car. The
hospital didn’t even send someone out to help. I was discharged with
follow-up instructions and sent on my way. I guess being an adult is hard.
So, there I was, safe in the backseat, which wasn't as clean as the front
seat, but who cares at that point? Joseph was driving me home. Well, not to
Dad's home, but to Mom's place again. I never thought I'd end up back here,
but it's the better option right now.
When we pulled up, it didn’t feel like home. It hadn’t been for years. It
hadn’t when I left, and when I gave back that house key to Mom, it was
finalized in a way. But in the hospital, the whole thing with Sierra brought
us somewhat closer together. She even visited me every day I was in there.
Mom helped Joseph get me out of the back seat. “I made you a ramp
out of my limited building knowledge,” Mom smiled. “It’s solid, but not
exactly pretty.” It was so rare to see her smile, as she was always so angry
all the time.
She and Joseph retrieved the ramp. Like she said, it was unique. Solid,
I guess, but put together like one of Tiffany’s old art projects.
“Oh, before I forget, Babe, I got you something.”
Joseph ran back to his car, opened his trunk, and brought out a grabber-
looking thing. “I saw this in the store. It makes picking stuff up easier.” He
demonstrated, and I smiled.
Inside the living room, it was clean. There was no clutter. The floor,
end tables, and coffee table looked so clean it seemed new to the store.
Mom avoided eye contact. I realized she was just as insecure as me. We
just masked it in different ways, but I really appreciated the effort. Was it
short-lived? I didn’t know. It was hard to tell with Mom. But I would take
it.
I transferred myself with a lot of trouble, despite the nurses working
with me, onto the couch. That wheelchair was awkward.
Joseph sat beside me. “I got a job interview for tomorrow. It’s a real
legitimate job.”
We hadn’t really talked about the drugs I found in the room. I didn’t
want to talk about it. I was all ready to leave him that night too, before the
accident. It was still the elephant in the room. I just didn’t expect him to be
the one to bring it up.
I caught Mom's glance. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
“Thanks, Mom. I really mean it.”
She left down the hallway, leaving me alone with Joseph and the
conversation we still had to have.
“So, have you been applying to places?” I asked, wiping some sweat
from my forehead. I still had hot and cold flashes and lingering headaches
and fatigue. The neurologist said that would pass.
He looked downward. “I’m sorry for all the lying. But I’m ready to do
things straight from now on. I got a call for an interview for overnight
shipping and receiving. It’d be twelve hours, three days a week, with
alternating Thursdays. Weekends off.”
“Why the change?” I asked. He made big money selling drugs. How
else could he afford to pay all his mom’s bills, his own bills, and all that
drinking?
He glanced down at his feet. “I told my mom that I could no longer
support her. Well, she didn’t take it well and put a huge guilt trip on me.
Told me to get out when I didn’t relent. So, I got myself a storage locker.
Now I need to get my stuff out.” He looked down again. “I really need to
find something fast. And a place to live. Because if I don’t, I’m going to end
up losing everything. Getting my ass thrown in jail or worse… like my
father. Time for a change. The whole thing with you getting hit by that car,
babe. I thought I was going to lose you. Like I lost my dad. If I don't make a
change, I just don't know....”
My heart sped up. I couldn’t stomach the thought of Joseph becoming
homeless with nowhere to stay. Not after everything he did for me. I felt
sad.
 “Don’t worry about me, Babe. I still have some time. Besides, I can
couch surf. Spend my days with you. It’ll be fine. You have to worry about
yourself. You have a lot on your own plate.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t just let him fend for himself.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know, Mira.”
I hugged him. “I love you too.”
Then there was a knock on the door. I tried to get up but couldn’t.
When Tiffany entered the room, she exclaimed, “Hey Mira. I didn’t know
you were home.”
The door knocked again. Tiffany rolled her eyes and opened it.
It was Dad.
“What are you doing here?” Tiffany asked angrily as she went to close
the door.
“Please, Tiffany, wait. I need to talk to Mira. Well, all of you. It’ll only
take a moment.”
Tiffany's face turned red.
I texted mom that Dad was here, and we needed her assistance.
“I don’t really care what you have to say,” Tiffany said. “Don’t you
think you’ve done enough?”
Mom entered the living room. “Mark!”
“This will only take a moment and I’ll be on my way.”
“What’s up, Dad?” I asked, actually really happy to see him.
He walked in, hugged me, and nodded at Joseph. I offered him a seat
on the other side of me, which he took.
“You’re looking good,” he said.
Tiffany stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for an explanation.
Dad sighed. “I wish I could come here with better news. I know we
were all expecting it. But Sierra was able to post bond. I just got back from
her bond hearing after they had upgraded the charges. I just wanted to warn
you all.”
Then he got up to leave, but before he did, he turned to me. “Call me
anytime you need anything, Mira.” He turned to Tiffany. “I’m really sorry,
Tiffany. I hope in time you will forgive me and we can have a relationship.”
Without another word, he left.
“How can you look at him after everything he has done?” Tiffany
asked me after he left out of sight. I paused, thinking about her question.
Mom and Joseph were both in the room, and I wanted to choose my words
carefully. I had forgiven them both because I valued the relationship and
what they brought into my life.
“He has regrets, just like the rest of us, and I honestly don’t want him
to leave again. It’s up to you to decide if you want to forgive Dad. So, let’s
agree to disagree, okay?”
Tiffany wiped some sweat from her forehead. “Well, you are a lot more
forgiving than I would be,” she smiled. “But I’m so glad you're okay, back
home where you belong. It wasn’t the same without you.” Tiffany hugged
me before standing up. “I’ve got my last finale of the year tomorrow, so off
to study.” She bounced up and left the room.
“I can’t believe she made bail…” Mom stood there, fear crossing her
face. “What if she comes here?”
“We call the police!” I said. “I still have a restraining order against her.
She can’t come within two hundred meters of me or the residence, or she’ll
be picked up.”
Mom didn’t look relieved. “I wish that made me feel better, especially
when I go to work at my new job.”
“Joseph will be here, right?"
Mom stopped, as if contemplating a thought. “How are things with you
at home, Joseph?”
Joseph shuffled in his seat. Please say something.
“You’re always welcome to stay here. And frankly, she could use the
company, and I’d feel better, especially with Sierra out there. Who knows
what she’ll do, in her state of mind, when she realizes just how much she is
set to lose.”
The awkward moment was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Let’s
continue this conversation in a minute. It’s the warehouse I applied to. Wish
me luck,” Joseph said as he rose and headed outside the house, leaving my
mom and me alone. It was the perfect opportunity for us to talk. Since we
hadn’t actually had a moment to really talk about Sierra. About everything
that had gone down.
Mom looked at the door, then at me.
“Things aren’t great with Joseph and…” She couldn’t even finish the
sentence. I still hadn’t met Lotus, but from all I heard, it was probably for
the best.
 “His mom told him to leave when he told her he wasn’t going to
financially support her.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Of course… What kind of mother…”
Then she looked at me and stopped mid-sentence. There was still a lot
of animosity between us.
Changing how we view one another and how we communicate wasn’t
going to change overnight. But acknowledging that we don’t understand
one another was the first step. But there was still so much to talk about.
Spending eight days in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think. A lot of
time to figure out what I wanted in my life.
I could either be bitter, or I could get better. It's that simple. I take what
has been dealt to me and decide whether to let it make me a better person,
or let it tear me down. The choice is not in the hands of fate. It was my own.
“We have a chance to move forward, Mom.” I broke that very awkward
silence. That elephant in the room. The bitterness, the anger, and resentment
would only keep growing, getting in the way of us having a functional,
healthy mother-daughter relationship. “I’m really glad we are moving in a
direction where we aren’t yelling at each other.”
Mom shuffled from foot to foot. “I let my feelings about Sierra... My
sister. Your aunt,” she swore under her breath. “I don’t even know what to
call her. They clouded my judgment. I abused and mistreated you. And I
still don’t know how you can stand to sit here and even want to talk to me.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I only have one mom. And I’d rather have you in
my life than not. I know I haven’t always been easy. I know we have both
said and done things we regretted, but at some point, something needs to
change.”
Mom nodded. “I should have told everyone the truth about Sierra. I let
all of this get out of control. And I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
I shook my head. “A support worker visited me in the hospital. We
talked a bit, and I think I want to see a therapist. I have so much anxiety and
low self-esteem that I've spent my whole life trying to navigate.”
Mom looked away.
“Mom, it’s not all on you. It’s everything. It’s the big picture.
Generational dysfunction. I think that's what they call it.”
This got my mom’s attention. “What do you mean?”
 “How are things supposed to get better, Mom, if we ignore the big
picture? I have spent my whole life feeling inadequate. Different. I just
didn’t know how to tell anyone. I know that I compulsively clean and
organize. I know that you don’t understand that part of me. For a long time,
I didn’t really understand it either. When I’m stressed or worried, I just do it
more.”
“But what kind of mother mocks and resents their kid for it? Takes
their own insecurities out on their daughter.”
This is where the real revelation came in. “Grandma did the same to
you,” I paused. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Mom, but she did the
same thing to Sierra. It should have never been your responsibility to carry
the burden of Grandma having an affair, any more than it should have been
Sierra's, to be sent away for a mistake she didn’t make. She didn’t ask to be
born.”
Mom's whole body stiffened. “You don’t understand.”
“Don’t I?”
“You don’t know what it was like having her around. She isn’t
someone to defend, Mira.”
I took a deep breath. Maybe Mom wasn’t ready yet to face the facts. “I
love you, Mom, I really do… Let’s just leave it at that.” I leaned back on
the couch and closed my eyes. It was the only thing I could do within my
limitations to end the conversation.
“M-Mira?” Mom said, with a hint of desperation in her voice. “What
are you saying?”
“You’re getting upset, and I don’t want to upset you anymore.”
Mom glanced away. “It’s not up to you to protect my feelings. If you
have something you need to say, then say it. I’m a big girl, and
acknowledging the hurt I have done is the first step of recovery.”
“I think we should agree to disagree. Let’s just take things one step at a
time.” I realized that Mom wasn’t ready to acknowledge that Grandma
pitted her against her sister. “I’m just glad we both want things to be better.”
Mom cried. I cried too.
Not even a month ago, Mom and I were in this same living room, at the
point where I wasn’t even sure we’d ever be able to have a civil
conversation with one another, never mind actively having a heart-to-heart.
 I would have never been able to tell her how I felt. To reflect on my
own childhood, my own self-esteem issues and acknowledge that this
couldn’t go on.
In the hospital, Mom, without even really realizing it, let go of her own
burden. The pain, the betrayal, and the dysfunction wouldn’t change
overnight.
Then Joseph came back into the house. Mom wiped away her tears and
smiled. For now, I believe we know where we both stand.
Today was a new day to shed the weight of the girl I once knew. That
girl I had carried with me everywhere I've gone. Now I was ready to accept
that life would never be the same way again, and that was okay. I could
choose to focus on the negative, be mad, angry, and bitter, or I could look
on the bright side, which was what I was choosing to do. I was alive, and
that's something to be grateful for.
One day, I would forgive Sierra for hurting me. I hoped for Sierra's
sake, the time she spent in prison, she would reflect and make a positive
change in her life for Leah's sake. I hoped the same thing would happen for
Mom. I hoped she would get to a point where she could let go of the hurt,
betrayal, and anger and put her childhood behind her. It was the only way
the cycle would ever truly be broken.
I had Joseph who still loved me, and I had a new chance at having a
relationship with my mom and sister. I was going to stay connected with
Leah. Maybe even try to convince my dad to fight for her. That was the
least he could do.
As for the past, it was finally going to remain where it belonged — as a
distant memory.

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 EPILOGUE
Leah
2014

Mira took me out last night for supper for my twenty-first birthday, and I’ll
never forget it. I wasn’t big on going out and getting drunk and acting like a
party animal, as so many do when they come of age. I enjoyed being
twenty-one by ordering myself a glass of red wine. Just one glass, and a
bowl of beef stew. It was what my mom promised me for my twenty-first
birthday back when I was eleven. It would be her present to me. She’d buy
me a glass of the best red wine she could afford and treat me to her stew.
But that never happened. It was even worse because she was in prison, and
it made me feel terribly sad.
I had to accept the alternative. The beef stew, while a cool tribute,
wasn’t like Mom’s. Nothing compared to Mom’s beef stew. If there was one
thing I would take away from my relationship with my mom, it was that she
made great stew. Beyond that, there wasn’t much to say. One moment she
was all I had, then the next she was gone.
I was driving toward the prison just having gotten off the phone and
temporarily blocking his number. I was thinking, as I always did.
Even eight years later, I still don’t know why she would want to harm
Mira. Why would she preach about finding the man of my dreams, find the
man, only to take Mark’s car and run it into his daughter? Someone as nice
and kind as Mira? If she had targeted Tiffany, I would have at least
understood, because Tiffany wasn’t a nice person. At least not back then.
Today, Tiffany is still a pain in the ass, but at least we can stand to be in
the same room for five minutes without her ripping off my head, and I even
have a cordial relationship with my aunt Sherry. I know now it will never be
more than that because of Mom and her toxic past. It’s just unfortunate they
didn’t put the blame where it belonged with Grandma.
I had always thought I was the problem. But, as Mira told me one time,
“It’s a cycle. Grandma was dysfunctional. Then our moms were
dysfunctional. It wasn’t until I told my mom I couldn’t keep going on like
this that a change was made. The cycle ended because I had had enough.” It
made sense, in a way. Mira had been a much-needed support and inspiration
for me, helping me not follow in my mother’s footsteps.
I just remembered back to the months following my mom’s arrest.
Things were hard. I had come home from school, and Mark was there.
When I asked where Mom was, he looked so sad. “I’m sorry, Leah. Your
mom isn’t here,” he told me. He told me to go pack a bag. He didn’t say
why. But I was in my room, humming to Green Day's 'When September
Ends,' when I heard the doorbell. I got up and ran to the door. Mark tried to
stop me… then I was ripped away from my family.
They sent me to live with strangers.
At first, I struggled to fit in. I already felt insane pressure to be perfect,
like Mom tried so hard to do. It took many years of court-mandated therapy
to realize that her expectations were just her projecting her emptiness onto
me. She was just an empty shell.
But for the longest time, I went from hating her for going to prison to
feeling responsible and blaming myself because I talked too much, and was
too scatterbrained. Then, once I realized that nothing, I did could have
changed who Mom was or what she did, I felt relieved. I just felt pity for
her instead of holding onto that burden.
On the other hand, I was so glad Mira was able to repair her
relationship with her mother. I knew when she moved in all those years ago
that her relationship with her mom was toxic. But my aunt Sherry and Mira
were able to break that cycle.
When it came to Mom, I could have repeated the same cycle as her. I
could have hurt people, been resentful, and blamed everyone for all my
problems. Instead, I was grateful for all the people and things in my life that
I still had.
I had Mira, who I was forever grateful for, not hating me for the
mistakes my mother made. One of the first people to have contact with me
when I was sent to foster care was Mira. It was because of her that Mark
went to court to become my legal guardian. I wasn’t sure if it was because
of guilt, but I was still grateful to be with someone I grew to see as a father
figure in my life.
I was grateful for finishing high school and for Mira and my
backpacking trip to Europe last year. I was grateful that Mira was the sister
I never had, and I was going to be a bridesmaid at her upcoming wedding to
Joseph. I was so glad those two made it through thick and thin. High school
romances never really lasted, but what they had was obviously something
special.
I was a few miles away from the prison. After a wonderful birthday
yesterday, my mother was being released from prison after serving 80% of
her 9.5-year sentence, which was bittersweet. She ultimately had pleaded
guilty to aggravated battery to avoid an attempted murder charge. From
what I was told a week after she was originally arrested, they discovered
enough evidence to upgrade her charges. She was planning on going to trial,
but after learning she might be in prison for twenty years or longer, she took
a plea deal.
Last month, she had written me a letter. I had had no contact with her
since the morning she dropped me off at school. She refused visits while
she was on bail and while she was incarcerated. I had to learn from Mark,
after I begged him to tell me something about what she was feeling, that he
had spoken to her on the phone when he tried to tell her I wanted to see her.
She told him she couldn’t and would reach out to me when she was ready.
Three weeks ago, was that time.
Hello Leah.
Long time no see. I know it has been a while. I had tried many times to
figure out a way to reach out to you. But words couldn't explain the
upheaval in our lives. I've spent the last almost eight years finishing my
punishment. And I know you probably have many questions and confusion
about what happened. Next month I'll get out on good behavior, just like I
knew I would. It may seem like I stopped caring about you. But that is far
from the truth. I have spent your whole life trying to give you the stability I
never had. Every decision, mistake, and adversary that got in the way, I did
my best to deal with. My silence was my gift to you. Now that I'm getting
out in exactly three weeks and four days, my goal is to make things right for
you and for me. Something your biological father and our family of origin
had failed. See you at the prison gates.
Mom.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. Just thinking about that
letter, which I had now memorized from reading it so many times, brought
up a lot of unresolved feelings. I had debated on whether or not I wanted to
see her. I had figured she didn't try to write back to the many letters I had
sent her over the years. But the other part of me tried to rationalize it. What
if she felt embarrassed? Or what if she felt it was better that I didn't see her
at her worst?
Mira believed she was capable of change when I expressed my
apprehension. The mother I knew wasn't the one she turned out to be. Did
she change? That was the question I wanted to know. No matter what, she
was still my mother. I wanted to know if she was ready to let go of the past
and break the cycle with me.
Finally, I arrived. Here I was, waiting outside the women's penitentiary
in a car I bought with my own money, standing just outside the driver’s
door. Would Mom be proud of me?
Then Mom came through the gates. I recognized her instantly. She
looked skinnier, older, with shorter graying, blond hair than I remembered,
wearing a white t-shirt and black trousers. She recognized me and smiled,
but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hello, Leah!" she opened her arms for a hug.
I hugged her. It felt kind of empty. This wasn't the same warm welcome
I remembered from my first day of kindergarten, or the excitement and
affection she'd show when I did well on a test in school, or even when she
told me she had found the man that would change our lives. This felt
impersonal, almost like a business transaction. But maybe that was because
I didn’t really know who Mom was anymore?
"How are you doing, Mom?"
She took my hand, and we walked toward my car, the only one there.
"It's good to finally be free," she said, stopping to look at my car. "Nice
wheels."
“Yeah, I bought it.”
"Missed me?" she asked with conviction.
I nodded. "It's good to see you." I wasn’t sure what I felt, to be honest.
"Well, that is unexpected!"
I bit my lip. "What is?"
"I just half expected you to go on one of your tangents. I always knew
you for your insane chatter."
I flinched at 'insane'. Was that what she always thought of me? "Well, a
lot has changed. I don't talk nearly as much anymore." My whole world and
everything about me changed when she went to prison. What did she
expect? For me, to be the same naïve girl she left behind?
 Mom frowned, but then quickly smiled. "Now that I'm free, I can
finally give us the stability we both deserved. I had done a lot of thinking
while on the inside. Like how things will go going forward."
I looked down at my feet as I got into the driver's side and she slid into
the passenger side. "Honestly, Mom…" My heart pounded with fear. "Why
can't we just embrace the life we have right now?"
Silence.
She didn't talk to me the entire time. She didn't ask how I was doing, or
what my plans were for the future. It seemed like she had a plan in her mind
about how she saw our relationship with her newfound freedom. I
swallowed back tears when I realized she didn't really know me anymore.
I briefly saw her glance at me with a coldness I had never personally
seen before. "So, you did just fine without me?"
I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I wouldn't say fine. I lived. I dealt
with it. I would have much rather you not gone to prison. But why dwell on
it? I've dealt with it, accepted it, and now just want to move on. Why be
stuck in the past?"
Mom looked like she was about to say something but didn't. She was
acting very composed. It wasn’t how I imagined she or really anyone would
act after spending time in prison.
"You hungry?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "I got paid
yesterday, so why don't I treat you?" I figured she hadn't had a decent meal
in forever.
"That sounds good."
I drove us to a burger joint in the next town over, and we ordered
burgers. She scoffed down the meal, telling me that the food in prison was
slop. She also asked about my job. It was a mix of small talk and
awkwardness.
After we ate, as we headed to the car, Mom asked, "Would you mind
dropping me off at the transitional house? I need to get settled in before I
call my probation officer." I agreed. The transitional house was only a
twenty-minute drive away. During the entire trip, Mom went on and on
about how she was glad to be free, her plans to get a job, make some
money, and rebuild her life. She said she spent her free time in prison
studying ways to rebuild her reputation and career as a convicted felon.
While I was glad, she spent her time productively, what I really wanted
her to mention was Mira. I half-expected her to deny it, or have a change of
heart and say she regretted what she did. Say she was sorry for hurting
Mira. Something, anything. But instead, it was all about her. Not one
mention of Mark, Mira, Tiffany. Hell, not even a mention of where I lived,
who I stayed with, or how I coped. It was all about her, just like usual.
Before she walked away from my car to the ramshackle apartment
building that served as her transitional house, she looked at me. "I know
you think your life now is great, Leah. But just you wait. After I deal with
some unfinished business, our lives will be so much better. Just you wait
and see. I love you."
Without another word, Mom walked away and left me there,
flabbergasted.
She finally told me she loved me. But it didn’t feel right. She wasn't
sorry. She didn’t care about how any of this affected me. She was proud and
was planning something else.
I was horrified. I realized that no one was safe - Mira, Aunt Sherry,
Mark, Tiffany… even me? Especially if she found out about my biological
father, Oscar, who had reached out to me when I turned eighteen. Now, our
relationship was closer than ever. My mother never did get over her own
biological father abandoning her, and she’d likely take me connecting with
mine as a betrayal.
So, I called Mira as I had promised.
Everyone was worried about my agreeing to pick her up, especially
because of my mother's lack of remorse toward Mira, coupled with her
unpredictable and apathetic behavior.
On the phone, I warned Mira to watch out for my mother. It was clear
Mom had never changed, had many years to think about her next move, and
that made her very dangerous.

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 AFTERWORD

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