Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,52

the biggest hypocrite. So many times I had seen people in and out of the ER with suspicious-looking bruises, and watched carefully as excuse after excuse rolled from their tongues. I always thought that if I was in their place I wouldn’t put up with it. I would leave, because I was strong. I knew my self-worth and knew I deserved better.

But here I was.

If I could track down every patient whom I silently judged, and just tell them I was sorry, I would.

“Look, you don’t need to tell me that it’s wrong. I know that. And you don’t need to tell me that I need to leave. I promise you, whatever you’re thinking about right now, I’ve already thought about a thousand times over.”

Renee’s lips went into a flat line and I knew there were thousands of things she was dying to say, but didn’t. For that I was grateful.

I pushed myself away from the counter abruptly and straightened out my shorts. “Can we drop this, please?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed my purse and walked toward the door, anxious to leave this conversation behind us.

“Victoria?”

I slowly turned.

“This isn’t your fault,” Renee said quietly.

I lifted my head and blinked back my tears.

“And you ever need anything, I’m one call away.”

“I know,” I replied.

She stopped me by grabbing my arm gently. But it still made me flinch. “I mean it. I’m there. For anything.”

When people reach out and try to help, I truly believe it’s done sincerely. But also with naïveté. It’s so easy to make declarations while being far away from the situation and even easier to run away when everything gets rough. But from the look in Renee’s eyes, I knew she meant it.

“Thank you,” I whispered gratefully. And I meant it.

The second we emerged from the hallway, Renee put a small smile on her face as if nothing was wrong.

“We’re back,” she announced.

Sinclair tapped his watch. “You do realize you’ve been back there for almost thirty minutes, right?”

“We were talking.”

Sinclair’s eyes veered between his sister and me. “About?”

“I’m sorry, did you grow a vagina while I was back there and I didn’t know it? Why do you care what we were talking about?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Just asking. No need to rip my head off.”

“I should be going,” I announced.

“All right. See you later,” Renee replied breezily.

Sinclair stared at me for a long second, making me feel like I was under a microscope. “See you later,” he finally said.

His words weren’t empty, just said to be nice. No, his words sounded a lot like a promise.

July 2014

Nobody should be ringing the doorbell at eight in the morning.

It’s just wrong. A cardinal sin.

I belted my robe as I hurried down the stairs. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Quickly, I peered through the peephole. My mother was on the other side.

I flipped the lock and opened the door.

“Good morning.” My mother breezed past me, looking bright-eyed and cheerful as though it were the middle of the day instead of early morning. She carried a box with VICTORIA’S STUFF written on the side. She balanced two coffees and a carryout bag on top of it.

I didn’t know where to start so I took the food and coffee. Then I pointed to the box. “What’s that?”

My mother dropped her purse and the box on the table against the wall. “Oh, I was cleaning out the attic and found some of your old things. I thought you’d like to see them.”

I really didn’t, but I shrugged. She took a deep breath and grabbed one of the coffees out of my hand. She still hadn’t explained why she was there and it didn’t look like she was going to do so anytime soon.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I shut the door.

“I just wanted to spend some quality time with my only daughter.”

“At eight in the morning?”

“Is it a crime to want to have breakfast together?”

There was so much wrong with this impromptu visit. I didn’t know where to begin. My mother liked planning things in advance. No surprises. She applied that theory to everything.

Something was up.

I followed her toward the kitchen. “I told them to give me two decafs but I think they messed up the order. There was a long line so I didn’t bother getting it fixed.”

“It’s fine. I have some creamer.”

As I grabbed two plates, my mother sat at the kitchen island and took two large bagels out of the bag.

Coffee and carbs. Dear God, was she here to tell