“I don’t want this blamed on me.”
“It won’t be.”
“You know they’ll try.”
“I know.”
“And someday your parents will tell people I destroyed the family.”
“They were telling people you were oversensitive before we even left the driveway.”
Clare looked at me.
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what they always do.”
That sentence landed harder than I expected.
She went quiet.
Then she asked, “Have they always been like this?”
I leaned against the counter.
“Yes.”
She waited.
I realized she deserved more.
“When I was nineteen, I worked two jobs during college. Dad had been laid off. Mom told me if I didn’t help with bills, Tessa might have to postpone a school trip to Paris.”
Clare frowned.
“You paid household bills so your sister could go to Paris?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
