Page 62 of This Life and All the Rest
“Did Capri run off again,” Claire asks from the doorway behind me.
I don’t even turn to look at her.
“Well, that’s no surprise,” she continues, then pushes past me and grabs a coffee cup from the cabinet. “She decided a long time ago that she’s too good for us.”
“Shut up, Claire,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Just for once, could you keep your bitchy thoughts to yourself?”
“Oh, funny,” she hisses at me. “Does self-righteousness always come with sobriety? What didyoudo for her to run?”
“Don’t start with me,” I say. “Don’t act like you give two fucks if she’s gone. You don’t want her here. You haven’t wanted her here for years.”
Claire opens her mouth to argue, but Mom throws her hand up, cutting her off.
“Both of you stop,” she says, her voice cracking. “My husband is lying in a hospital bed in a coma. We don’t know if he’ll wake up. I have a ten-month-old child to take care of. I shouldn’t need to parent my adult children, too.”
Mom’s tears have always crushed me. I hate seeing her cry. I’ve gotten better over the last few years, but right now, I feel like that same fucked-up teenager who always let her down.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, pulling her and Evie into a hug. Evie pats my cheek and slobbers me up with a baby kiss. “We’ll do better, okay?”
I look at Claire and raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, Mom, we will,” Claire says softly. “Sorry.”
Masters joins us in the kitchen, sliding his arm around Claire and kissing her temple. She smiles up at him, and I have to force myself not to scowl.
There’s a knock at the door that makes us all sit up straight. There’s only one person who would be knocking on the door right now.
“I’ll get it,” Masters says, before lumbering out of the kitchen.
I strain to hear what’s happening as he opens the door. Muffled conversation that I can’t make out, but I already know who is about to round the corner with Eric. I don’t even look up from my coffee mug when he comes back to the kitchen with our guest in tow.
“Capri,” my mom breathes out.
She rushes to her, and I glance up just in time to see her pull Lennon into a hug.
“Honey, where have you been? Where did you stay last night?”
Lennon’s eyes shoot to mine, and I shake my head once, letting her know that I didn’t tell my momeverything.
“I got a room at a motel out of town,” she says, looking back at my mom with a forced, tired smile.
“How are you going to paint?” I ask, and she startles.
All her stuff is still in my studio. No way she can paint in a dumpy-ass motel. She doesn’t answer. Just shrugs.
“Why can’t she paint at the rec center?” Masters pipes up. Helpful Boy Scout as always. “I doubt the owner will mind,” he jokes, looking at me with a friendly grin.
I flare my eyes at him, trying to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he tilts his head like he’s confused.
“Oh, who’s the owner?” Lennon asks.
I stare Masters down. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. He looks from me back to Lennon, but before he can even attempt to fix his fuck-up, Claire laughs.
“You’re kidding me,” she says, looking between me and Lennon. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Didn’t tell me what?” Lennon says slowly, looking at me.
“Macon owns the rec center now,” Claire says. “He bought it from the Billings because they had to move back to Massachusetts when James’ dad got sick.”
