Page 142 of Cashmere Ruin

For the rest of the day, I go about my business like always.

I won’t say Eleanor’s words didn’t touch me at all. I think it’s impossible to have your own mother call you a selfish bitch and not have some kind of reaction. So yeah, of course I’m hurt. Of course I wish things hadn’t unfolded like they did.

But I’m also used to it.

“Some people don’t change. And it’s not your job to change them.”

I smile to myself. Even in his absence, Matvey’s words are keeping me warm.

Which reminds me—we promised we’d keep each other informed. I shoot him a quick text about Eleanor’s surprise visit.

The Wicked Bitch of Staten Island was here this morning. We’re all fine—I’ll tell you more when you get home!

Then, on second thought, I add,Buttons might need a rabies shot, though. He scratched her. Do you think she’s contagious?

Then, fingers hesitating over the screen, I type a third text:PS. I love you.

There. All said.

I pick up my baby and valiant guard cat, one in each arm, and settle on the couch. “What’ll it be?” I ask out loud. “Romcom? Action movie? A three-hour long drama about the nihilistic fleetingness of life?”

Before I can decipher May’s coos, there’s another knock.

I dump Buttons on a pillow and hoist up my growing baby—God, she’s gotten big. “Eleanor, if it’s you again, I swear…”

I open the door and the words die in my throat.

It’s not Eleanor.

It’s Charlie.

And he’s sporting a nasty black eye.

“Howdarehe?”

“Apes, I’m okay, I swear. It just looks bad.”

I move the ice pack around, trying to get all of the swelling. God, how often have I heard those words?It’s not that bad; it looks worse than it is?

How often have I said those words myself?

I force myself to calm down and swallow my rage. “He shouldn’t do these things. He’s your father.”

“I talked back to him.” Charlie shrugs. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“What happened?”

He hesitates. “When Mom came back, I heard them fighting. That’s how I realized she’d been to visit you. I was almost mad she didn’t ask me to come with, and then Dad—he started yelling. About money. He tried to hit her, so I stepped between them… told him off, tried to stop him…” He gives a dry laugh. “Guess I wasn’t very good at it.”

I feel a stab of guilt. “It’s my fault. She came to ask for the prize money.”

“From the contest?” He perks up. “You won?!”

A hazy smile spreads on my lips. It’s just like Charlie to be happy for someone else’s good news when that someone is the reason he got beaten to a pulp in the first place. “Yeah. First place.”

“That’s amazing, Apes!”

Right now, I feel anything but. That voice I’ve spent so long trying to silence is back with a vengeance, and for once, I have no good reason to shut it up.

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