Page 74 of Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter

Citronella candles appear on the windowsills. Sara came outside to bring me an ashtray a few hours ago, which I mistook for a peace offering, but has otherwise left me to frantically pace in silence. The dogs have taken her side in the fight and ignored me all day.

My hands are raw from so much wringing, my face warm from a sunburn, my bare feet blackened from dirt. One more lap around the trailer, I tell myself, just to burn off more anxious energy, then I’ll go inside and pack my things. I’ll find a motel to stay at for a night or two, and maybe once—

I shriek when my phone buzzes. I nearly fumble it out of my hands twice. “Hello?”

Josiah needs no introduction. The wet mouthful of tobacco is enough. “Providence? Sheriff Eastman here. I, ah … well, Ican’t tell you too much, but I wanted you to know we found Harmony’s car up on the reservation.”

He tells me about the unmarked dirt road, the copse of dead trees (charred by a brushfire, he adds) in which the car had been concealed. It was almost forty miles away from where my mother’s body had been found.

“Was there anything in the car? My mother’s shoes?”

“Just Harmony’s personal effects. Mints, a vape, a scone covered in mold. The front of the car was mangled like she hit something.”

“A vape?”

Karishma gave me a vape. I lost my last one.

My stomach lurches into my ribs, my heart into my throat. Suddenly, I can feel every part of my body. I feel my bones straining against my skin. I feel my teeth rooted in my gums. I feel every blood vessel and every nerve ending catching fire.

“Providence? You still there?”

I am grateful beyond words that the sheriff cannot see my face right now. “Yes. Yes, I’m here. It’s—I’m—sorry, I wish I could stop stuttering.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Did she take the plea deal?”

“Fifteen years, possibility for parole after ten. Plead down to manslaughter.”

“She’s going to prison.”

“She’s going to prison,” he echoes.

“Maybe I should be relieved.”

“I would be.”

What sweet relief it would be for all of it to be over. For Josiah, it is. Case closed. Car recovered. Plea deal signed. Confession affirmed. Sentence handed down.

But it’s all a lie. A giant fucking lie.

I run inside for my purse and my keys. Sara is in the bedroom with her door shut, sparing me the further pain of tellingher what’s happened. I will combust if I have to explain myself to anyone. I beg myself to wait until I’m in the car before I really put the pieces together and draw the terrible conclusion I am careening toward.

I only have one sister who vapes.

It’s not Harmony.

CHAPTER

21

August 21st

8:52PM

“GO HOME, BUTTERFLY.You’re not welcome here.”

“I want to see Grace.”

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