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"In here," Dad and I spoke in unison and I grinned, hoping to break the ice I felt between us, but it didn't. Dad stood,
hands on his hips, eyes still searching mine, no hint of humor in his gaze.
Mom appeared, dressed, though disheveled. Her perfect appearance had slowly unraveled. Hair like a skewed broom,
circles under her eyes no amount of concealer could cover and she'd dropped jewelry and accessories because Abria was
fascinated with all things glittery and off limits like earrings and necklaces and belts. She'd rip them off faster than a thief in a
jewelry store.
Again, resentment scratched at me. I didn't look long at my mother. It hurt too much seeing her wither before my
eyes.
"Where´s Luke?" Mom glanced around.
"Here." Luke´s bass voice slid down the stairs. I moved in for a closer look at him. He, too, was thrown together, his
sandy hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, pants baggy. Yep. The lazy look in his eyes told me he'd gotten high last night. When our
gazes met, I rolled my eyes at him. He gave me a heavy blink.
"Can I drive with you?" Luke asked me.
"Can't we all drive together?" Dad's tone was irritated but I knew why Luke wanted me to drive over: he didn't want
Mom and Dad too close, they might get a real good look at him. And his car was still busted.
Dad threw his stare between Luke and me, but dropped the fight. I glanced at the coat tree by the front door, not sure
if I'd hung my purse there last night. When I saw my denim bag, I reached over and grabbed it, digging for my keys.
Abria started running upstairs, so Dad snagged her into his arms.
"Let's go," Mom snapped. "Abria's getting antsy."
Of course. Let's bow to Abria. All hail Abria, queen of the moment, ruler of our lives. I let out a loud sigh so Mom
and Dad would hear my displeasure, then turned and went out into the bright, sunny Sunday morning.
Winter air nipped at my exposed skin, and I shuddered, wishing I was back in my toasty bed, sleeping.
In the car, Luke leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Man, I'm so tired."
No doubt residual weed in your blood," I smirked. "You wanted me to wive so you could squeeze in as much time to sober
up as possible." Luke sniffed. "I wouldn't get too close to them if I was you."
I cupped my hand over my mouth for a whiff of my own breath. Sure enough, the sour stench made my face crinkle.
Luke looked over with a lopsided grin. "Lush." "Okay, so neither one of us is perfect." "Thankfully."
"But I'm not addicted, there's a difference," I said. "I'm not addicted. I smoke socially."
"Yeah," I laughed, "but it becomes addicting when all your friends do the same thing."
"So you're saying Britt and all your friends don't drink?"
"No, they do. But not every time we're together."
"Then they're missing out." He closed his eyes again.
"No. They know when it is and is not appropriate. You and your friends on the other hand only need a lighter and you
light up."
"Because we know how to relax. That's your problem, Z. You're too uptight, even with the booze."
"I am not uptight." Frustration bubbled in my veins. "You don't know anything."
"Whatever."
I flicked on the CD player and raw guitar licks grated the air. So much for Mom's efforts to bring peace to Sundays. I
peered through my rearview mirror, saw Mom and Dad in the car following us and felt anger and guilt collide inside of me.
They'd die if they knew I drank. Die. In their eyes, I was the oldest child and the rock. I was the rock, all right. The rock
everybody else climbed all over. Zoe, do this. Zo5, help with that.
I may have felt distant from them now, but my childhood had been full and lovely, with lots of sunny days and
complete immersion in adoration. Clouds had shadowed our lives only after Abria came onto the scene.
Why did she have to be in our family? This question nipped at me continually, an ugly, itchy rash that never went
away, just moved to another part of me. Countless times I'd been unable to answer the question with what reason resided in
my head, "One of God's mysteries," our Pastor had once murmured in what he thought was comfort to my teary-eyed
mother.
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