Page 17

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 readBeauty and the Beastand recite a tale as old as time.“Once upon a time, there lived a young prince in a beautiful castle. . . .”
Hours later, when Mitchel and everyone else are leaving, I find it hard to breathe let alone process the news I’ve been given. We’re standing in the foyer of Ava’s home, one she no longer occupies, but in moments like this, and since her death, I feel her presence here more than ever. Maybe that’s why I’ve kept it together? Because though she’s gone, I’m not entirely sure she is from my life.
The room is too hot, too intense, heat licking my cheeks. With each movement of my body, it shifts the heat in overwhelming abundance like the deep red paint of the door making it seem that much warmer.
My eyes eventually drift, finding others in the room. The faces and voices around me hold pain. We’re by the door, soft chandelier lighting, stray shoes, and worn coats.
Before Mitchel leaves, his black leather briefcase in hand, I want to reach out and run my fingers over the bulky stitching. I love colors, bright and bold, fabrics, leather, silk, buttons and the way touch has a way of evoking even the smallest of reactions inside of you.
Mitchel catches me alone, leaning in, our eyes level. I’m wearing my bright green dress, the one Ava loved, and my mother said was hideous for a funeral. I wore it anyway, and still today, the day after, I’m wearing it again. Something inside me doesn’t ever want to take it off, like River and her dress.
Mitchel breathes out slowly, his wrinkled olive skin stretching over high cheekbones. “Your sister left you something else,” he whispers, words he only wants me to hear, tucking a letter inside my hand. “You’re a strong woman, Amberly. Take care of that little girl.”
Mitchel Robinson has been a friend of the family for years and our family lawyer just as long. I’ve known the man my entire life and trust him with it just the same.
I take the letter, tucking it away in my cardigan. Do you notice the way Alexandra’s standing at the door? She shifts her weight from one foot to another, sweeping her hair behind her ear. Her dark brown eyes move from the door to the letter I hide from her.
Do you think she’s wondering what it says? She’s dying to know. When I was twelve and she was fourteen, her boyfriend at the time asked me out in a letter. To this day, anytime I’m handed a letter, I think she thinks back to that letter Quincy Sadler gave me. For the record, I didn’t go out with him. It wasn’t in my nature to steal my sister’s boyfriends. I can’t say the same for Alexandra.
Mitchel leaves, and I’m left standing in the foyer with my mother and Alexandra. Terrance reaches for the door handle. “Alexandra, I have a meeting I need to get to in LA. Are you staying here?”
Terrance is a music producer and spends the majority of his time working while Alexandra spends his money.
Nodding, Alexandra purses her lips, her focus on me. “What did he give you?”
I breathe in slow and deep, in search of calm. I knew it’d come to this. Now look, both her and my mother are staring at me like they want to burn my body and take the letter I’m hiding. Do you see the look on Alexandra’s face? Do you think she’s looking at it, and me, and reminded of Quincy and the love letter on the back of a Taco Bell receipt? I bet she is.
I ignore, deflect, distract her with telling River to give her a hug. River hasn’t willingly hugged anyone in the last four days, unless it’s me and Kona. She wouldn’t even go to Papa Taylor and she’s always loved Cullen’s grandfather. But can you really blame her? She lost her parents. Nothing about the last four days since she witnessed her parents die has been comforting. Even a hug won’t change that.
Alexandra forces the hug, as does my mother.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this? Maybe until we figure this all out, River should come stay with me,” my mother suggests, straightening her wrinkled light pink blouse. I don’t like light colors. I like bold and distinct because if you’re going to wear color, be anything but ordinary.
I shake my head, straightening my posture, hold my determination. Our eyes catch and I stand strong. I usually don’t when it comes to her, I can’t, I want to please my parents, though I seldom do. “River’s better off here, for now. I’ll figure out something and if and when we have to sell this place, I have an apartment.” My words sure and decided, and for once, they don’t feel foreign coming from me.
“We have to put it on the market,” Alexandra adds, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. Her perfectly manicured, acrylic nude nails stand out against the white leather bag. “It’s not a matter of when, Amberly. We have to and immediately.”
We don’t have to, and she knows it, but to distract, deflect, I nod and reach for River’s hand beside me. I hold the chubby baby-soft hand, my fingertips tracing the scar on her palm where she fell a year ago and a stick stabbed her. Three stitches later and now the raised skin feels puckered and edgy, like the way two pieces of metal feel when joined together.
I look down at her, but the familiarity of her eyes doesn’t match Ava’s, and I’ve never seen Cullen in her features. She’s unique in her beauty, dark eyes framed by thick black lashes. Tender touches of golden freckles sweep over her nose and cheekbones. Her hair, unwashed, unbrushed, wild and free, falls in her eyes and catches in her pink pouty lips.
“Ava wanted me to take care of her,” I breathe out, letting River hear those words. She watches me as I speak, and I wonder, does she understand? “We’re going to be okay.”
Do you see it? Do you notice the way those pink pouty lips pull at the edges and the gentle lift at the corner? Did she smile?
My heart soars, constricts in both sadness, and happiness.
My mother hugs River, says her goodbyes and tells me she’ll be in touch. This means, she will be, probably more than I want her to because she can’t not meddle in my life. Why can’t she be like my father and never care? I’m surprised he found time to come to the funeral.
Alexandra lingers at the door and then on the front porch. Terrance is in the car, waiting impatiently, staring at his fiancée, willing her to get in the car. But the fact that I have River, and a note she wants to read, keeps her from moving.
“What did Mitchel give you?”
“Phone numbers for her doctors and emergency contacts,” I lie, and it’s not something I do very well. My face heats with the words. I look at her, internally begging her to approve of me, and I don’t think I’ve ever realized just how much she looks down on me until this moment. And even through my hazy thoughts, I see how much I don’t need it.