Chapter 5: The Parking Lot
Carla was standing beside her car.
She'd taken off her heels.
That was the first thing I noticed.
She was holding them in one hand, standing on the asphalt in her stockings, and for a second she looked less like the woman who had laughed at my dress that morning and more like someone who had just realized how far from home she was.
Then she saw Ruth walking beside me and her expression hardened again.
"I want to talk to my stepchildren," she said.
"Alone."
"That's not going to happen tonight," Ruth said pleasantly.
"I wasn't speaking to you."
"I know." Ruth stopped walking.
"But I'm speaking to you.
My name is Ruth Ellison.
My sister was Margaret Ellison.
I believe you remember her."
Carla's chin lifted.
"I remember a meddling attorney who tried to interfere in a private family matter."
"She tried to protect two children," Ruth said.
"There's a difference."
"I protected those children." Carla's voice rose.
"I moved into that house after their father d*ed and I kept the lights on and the refrigerator full and I drove them to school every single day while I was grieving too—"
"Carla." My voice was quiet.
"Stop."
She stopped.
"You didn't grieve," I said.
"You redecorated.
You threw out Mom's things.
You took the money she saved for us and you put it in an account with your old name on it." I looked at her.
"Those aren't the actions of someone who was grieving."
"You don't know what I was dealing with—"
"Then tell me," I said.
"Right now.
Tell me what you were dealing with that required forty-seven thousand dollars that belonged to Noah and me."
Carla's mouth opened.
Then closed.
"That's what I thought," I said.
Noah was standing slightly behind me.
He hadn't said anything yet.
Carla turned to him — I think she thought he'd be softer.
He'd always been quieter than me.
More careful with his words.
"Noah," she said, and her voice changed.
Gentler.
"You know I care about you.
Whatever these people are telling you—"
"Did you know Mom picked out those jeans herself?" Noah said.
Carla blinked.
"What?"
"The ones I used for the dress.
She bought them when she was pregnant with me.
She kept them because she said they were the most comfortable thing she owned during that whole year." He looked at Carla steadily.
"She told me that story when I was seven.
I remembered it when I went through her box."
Carla said nothing.
"You laughed at the dress," Noah said.
"You laughed at it in our kitchen, and then you drove here to record it so other people could laugh too." His voice didn't shake.
"That wasn't grief.
That was just mean."
The parking lot was quiet except for distant music still drifting from inside the gymnasium.
Carla looked at Ruth.
"Whatever you think you're going to do, I have my own attorney."
"I'd call them tonight," Ruth said.
"The DA's office opens at eight."
Carla's jaw tightened.
She looked at me one last time.
"I gave up a lot for this family," she said.
"You took a lot from it," I said.
"That's not the same thing."
She got in her car.
We watched the headlights sweep across the parking lot and disappear.
Ruth put her hand briefly on my shoulder.
"You did well in there."
"I don't feel like I did well," I said.
"I feel like I'm going to be sick."
"That's normal," she said.
"It means you're paying attention." She looked at Noah.
"Both of you.
May you like
Come on.
There's still a prom happening, and I believe you won something tonight."
