“We’re going to have to sell the house,” my mother says, shaking her head.
I can honestly say, and mean it, I’ve never liked my mother. You should never love anything more than you love your children, but Regina, she loves material possessions.
I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you want.
When I was fourteen, I went a year convinced I was adopted. After a DNA test—I stole hair samples from them and Tiller knew a guy who knew a guy—my theory was wrong. Sadly, they are my biological parents and I wasn’t birthed by a gypsy family, which is what I had been hoping for.
I even told myself somewhere out there my real mother existed and she sold me to Regina. And now look at her. . .. Someone like her, obsessed and consumed by the material things money can offer is probably saddened only by the fact that something this beautiful won’t stay in the family. And personally, my parents have the money to pay off the remaining mortgage, but they won’t.
“Which is why it makes sense for River to live with me,” Alexandra points out. “Amberly’s apartment is too small. She doesn’t even have a bed for her.”
“She has a bed,” I add meekly, knowing nothing I say really matters anyway. My presence here is nonexistent in so many ways.
Does your stare drift to Alexandra like mine does? Do you see her distaste for me like I do? Is it strange that even as sisters, we can be both saviors and strangers, and sometimes both?
My belly knots, my stomach heavy with regret. For the day, for the moment, for the life they’re discussing with absolutely no regard to what she might want. What’s wrong with them? How can they even discuss this? They’re ignoring Ava’s wishes. They’re. . . blinded by what they think is right regardless of the parents’ wishes.
My pulse pounds in my ears. I sit at the table long after Mitchel leaves. I sit because maybe I’m in shock to think me, Amberly Sky Johnson, twenty-three years of age, has a three-year-old little girl to take care of now. Okay, I’ve managed for five days, but what about when I have to go to work? Who do I leave her with? And if she gets hurt. . . what happens then? I have medical insurance through Jett Industries, but how do I add River? Will I need to? What if she gets a cavity? And school. . . what school do I send her to?
What if she runs and trips and hurts herself? Should I bubble wrap everything?
And we can’t sleep in the same bed forever. I’ll have to move her bed into my apartment. Or maybe get a bigger one eventually. I think the only reason these few days have gone as smoothly as they could, is because I’ve gone with the flow of everything at her pace. Truth is, she hasn’t showered since then because she refuses to, and I can’t bear to make her.
Can you hear my thoughts? The way they come one right after another. They’re firing like rounds of ammunition inside my head and the only person I can think to ask these questions to is Tiller. Despite him being unreliable and childish most of the time, he’s surprisingly savvy at figuring things out. He always knows what to do. It’s hard to explain my relationship with him, but I suppose at some point, I need to, or you’ll never understand why it is I think I need him for things like this.
River touches my hand. I hadn’t noticed her return in the house, but her presence captivates my soul, and I move, twisting to face her. “Hey, you done outside?”
She nods but doesn’t say anything and takes my hand in hers, tugging and pointing to her playroom. I stand willingly, because I can’t bear to hear them dissect River’s future with no regard to her.
We’re in a room together, just us. This room, with the pale pink walls and chunky white molding, it was once a den, before they had River, and now it’s home to a princess castle mural and hundreds of books. Inside, she points for me to sit and hands me her favorite. The one we’ve read and re-read over the past five days. Beauty and the Beast.
I’m not sure why she’s clinging to this book suddenly. I don’t know how she hasn’t broken down and cried a thousand tears since losing her parents. I know I cry, but River, she hasn’t yet.
“You want me to read to you?”
Again, she nods and points to her bean bag. I sit first. Then she crawls on my lap. I hate to say it, but I think I need to force her to take a bath tonight. She’s starting to smell like dirt and chicken nuggets. Probably because there’s one stuck in her hair.
I pull it out, toss it aside, and then open the book. Kona, who also hasn’t left River’s side, eats the day-old nugget like I’ve been starving him.
Crap. I forgot about the dog. I’m assuming this means I have custody of him too. They didn’t say, but the dog’s River’s so he probably goes with her, right?
Should I tell River I’m taking care of her now?
No, not yet. Ease into it.
River takes the book from my hands and opens the first page, running her fingers over the artwork on the prince. When I kiss her temple, in the distance I notice Alexandra and my mother watching our interactions together, but I turn away from them.
On my lap, on a velvet bean bag with a little girl in a lace and lilac princess dress, I read Beauty and the Beast and recite a tale as old as time. “Once upon a time, there lived a young prince in a beautiful castle. . . .”