Page 59 of Lillian

If I could take her out today, I would. Instead, I glance around her apartment. “Doesn’t look like you’re ready to leave. Why don’t we start packing up some of your stuff? We can leave the essentials, and I’ll load up as many boxes as I can into my car to take back with me.”

There’s that smile again. “Deal,” she grins. “How long are you staying?”

“I’m not sure. A few days at least. Me and the director have a few things to discuss this week.”

There is that nervous look again. That won’t do. “Why don’t we get some ice cream on the way to grabbing some boxes?”

She jumps up and tackles me in a hug. “I missed you,” she whispers, her voice wavering, and it chokes me up for a second.

I have to swallow the lump in my throat and clear it before answering. “Yeah, I missed you, too, kid.”

Beccaand I stayed up half the night packing things into boxes, eating straight from the tub of Rocky Road, and catching up. We kept away from the heavy stuff of the past few days.

Instead, she asked me about Lillian and how that was going. I told her about Grace and what Lillian has been up to the past four years. We talked about them staying over this past weekend and if Becca would mind if they stayed some more after she moved home. She looked at me like I was crazy, told me that she loved kids, and can’t wait to meet both of them.

It’s been a long time since she’s had that feeling of family. Even growing up, family time was our favorite nannies watching movies with us and letting us eat popcorn on the couches. Which is why I’m even more excited to introduce her to Lillian and Grace. Having all my girls together, being a family after too long of being apart, it’s all I want.

With all the hubbub, I didn’t end up getting checked into my hotel until almost two in the morning. I couldn’t keep Becca up any later because she’s got school tomorrow—or rather, today.It’s a therapy center, but the long term patients, the kids of the politicians and billionaires, treat it more like a boarding school.

While she’s in class tomorrow, I’m going to the staff and talking to anyone I can about the incident.

It’s almost three in the morning, though, so I’m about to fall asleep when I finally check my phone messages for the first time all night.

Lillian

Let me know when you make it okay.

Did you make it safe?

I’m getting a little worried…but I’m hoping you’ve been having a good time with your sister and aren’t checking your phone, so I’m not calling the cops yet. I might if I don’t get a text by tomorrow, though.

Her messages make me grin. Since being back in my life, she hasn’t told me she loves me again. I’ve only ever heard her say it the one time in my kitchen, four years ago. But the slew of worried messages is telling enough, so I don’t need her to say it. Yet.

Just so she doesn’t call the cops or start calling around to morgues in San Diego, I shoot her a quick goodnight text.

Me

I’m sorry, I did get caught up with Becca. I made it safe, she’s doing okay now, and I’ll call you tomorrow night. Love you.

I know she’ll be asleep already, so I don’t expect a text back. Instead, I switch my phone to silent, shut off the lamp on my bedside table, and go to sleep.

“Are you sure you have to leave?” Becca pouts as I finish packing her last box into my car. It’s a minor miracle how much we were able to fit in there, but it turns out that she’s excellent atTetris. Getting it out and into my apartment will be a whole other ordeal.

“I do. Dad has been on my ass all week about getting back in the office,” I tell her as I shut the trunk. “But I’ll be back in one week to pick you up. Promise.”

She pulls me in for a hug and concedes. “Fine. Next Thursday. The best birthday present ever.” She steps back and smiles at me.

“That is not your birthday present. I got you something better. Something really cool.” I need to go shopping and get her something really cool for her birthday.

“We both know you haven’t gotten me anything yet,” the brat laughs and opens my driver’s side door. “Now get out of here. Go annoy your girlfriend or something.”

“I’m not annoying,” I mutter as I slide into my car, and she shuts it behind me. Only my sister can bring out the petulant adolescent in me. “Next Thursday.” I point at her as if she’ll forget.

She points right back at me. “Next Thursday,” she confirms. Then I pull out of the parking lot and start the drive home.

The beginning of the week here was awful. I had several meetings with the program director, the clinical supervisor, and the on-staff therapists Monday. They all maintain the story that Nurse Ratched told was true. I tried getting a meeting with herand the two teachers who bruised my sister, but they informed me they were given some paid leave because of the incident.

Convenient.

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