A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,104

mother’s dark eyes. “Last minute? With no phone call? What happened?”

Tiffany didn’t want to get into it while she was wearing nothing but a hospital gown. She sat up and forced a smile. “Can I be discharged?” she asked the doctor to stave off her mother’s interrogation.

“There’s nothing to keep you here,” Dr. Frewer said, shrugging, “though I would recommend you see your family doctor if anything gets worse. He or she can prescribe you physical therapy, in case you have any difficulties with your wrist. In the meantime, I’ll write a prescription for some painkillers.”

“We have Tylenol at home,” Tony said. “She doesn’t need a prescription.”

“Of course we’ll take the prescription,” Rose insisted, shooting a look at her husband.

Tony growled in Cantonese, “It’s a waste of money.”

“No one asked you to pay for anything.”

Their glares locked over her bed. Tiffany closed her eyes and sank into her pillow. Please, not here, not now, and not over me.

“I’ll make soup.” Poh-poh’s declaration broke the stalemate, and Tiffany’s parents withdrew to their respective corners. No one would argue with the respected elder. After all, her grandma’s soups could cure anything.

An hour later, they were all packed into her dad’s old minivan. Tiffany sat alone in the middle row of seats while her mother and grandmother breathed down her neck and her father glanced at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat. Daniel’s gaze met hers in the rearview mirror, and the interrogation resumed as the van got up to speed.

“What happened out there?” her mother demanded. “How did your car end up in the ditch? Why were you driving out of the city on a Monday night?”

“Maybe we should wait till we get home to discuss things,” Daniel said as he methodically checked all his mirrors. Tiff knew he hated it when his passengers distracted him.

“She could have been killed,” her mom exclaimed. “I want to know why she put herself in such danger.”

“It was an accident, Mom. I’m fine.” Tiffany couldn’t suppress her irritation. Her body ached, her arm was in a sling and she’d just had the worst day of her life, so she figured she had a right to be cranky.

“The cops said something about your rearview mirror being blocked by garbage bags in the backseat.” Daniel picked his words carefully.

Dammit. Why’d he have to bring that up? “That had nothing to do with it. The road was slippery, and I lost control.”

“You haven’t come to visit since Christmas,” Mom said. “Why drive up now?”

Tiffany wished she could have pleaded exhaustion, waited until morning to tell them the awful truth. But the last of her strength left her and she gave in. “I...I lost my apartment.”

Stunned silence crowded into the vehicle, but only for a second. “Why did you lose your apartment?” her father asked slowly.

“I...didn’t pay my landlady in time.”

Tony’s jaw clenched so hard she could hear his teeth grinding. His fingers curled around the armrest.

“So, you got evicted?” Daniel’s tone wavered. He knew she was standing on thin ice with their parents. “Why didn’t you stay at a friend’s place?”

“You could have stayed with Jennifer,” Poh-poh added helpfully.

Tiffany’s eyes burned. Reality had slammed home today. She didn’t want to humiliate herself further by describing all the doors that had been shut in her face, how her cousin Jennifer must have moved without telling her. But then, they’d never kept in touch. “I didn’t want to impose on anyone.”

“Well, how are you supposed to get to work?” Mom asked. “Are you going to drive three hours every day to get to the city? I hope your insurance will cover a rental.”

“That’s not going to be a problem—” she took a deep breath and took the final plunge “—because I was laid off.”

“You were fired?” her parents cried simultaneously.

“Laid off,” she emphasized. “The company was restructuring, and there isn’t that much room to cut out fat. I was a junior assistant to the publisher, so—”

“If you were worth keeping, they wouldn’t have laid you off.” Her father’s proclamation was as final as the fall of an ax. She’d done the unforgivable and come home in disgrace, homeless and unemployed. He snorted and grumbled, “Moh gwai young.”

Useless.

She straightened her shoulders, despite the ache that shot through her bones. “I did my job well. Really well,” she said, echoing her employer’s words from the exit interview. “It was a budgeting decision. It wasn’t personal.”

That, at least, had been what her boss had told her. But since none of