tell her, they swapped us and brought me into their bedroom, where I immediately knew something was off because I wasn’t normally allowed in their bedroom. It had the quiet, austere presence of a church to me, a place I entered without shoes so I wouldn’t sully the cream-colored carpet. The air smelled like sandalwood, although of course I didn’t know it was sandalwood at the time, just a bright, piercing scent that to this day makes me summon up the word:
Divorce.
We all sat on the upholstered bench at the end of my parents’ king-sized bed. Mom’s face was a picture of calm, like one of those masks from a party store, completely expressionless.
Dad’s face was red. His eyes were also red. Bloodshot. Puffy. His voice shook as he tried to tell me that he was moving out. Finally he stopped trying, and Mom stepped in.
I didn’t get it. Not really. But I nodded like I did.
Then they brought me back to the playroom, where Afton was waiting. Her expression was set exactly like Mom’s. I can still see it in my mind’s eye. If I did a drawing, I would title it Determined.
It’s wild to think she was only seven years old.
Mom and Dad were out in the hall, yelling again.
Afton took my hand. “It’s good,” she said.
“It feels bad,” I said.
She shook her head. “They don’t love each other anymore.”
That was a terrifying thought, that people can love you, and then they can stop.
She didn’t let go of my hand. I don’t know if that was for her, or for me. We were still clutching hands when Dad appeared in the doorway holding a suitcase. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry before, or since. I felt so bad for him I started crying, too.
Then he was gone.
“Don’t worry,” Afton told me, squeezing my hand so tight it hurt. “I’m still here.”
33
I wake up to yelling. I open my eyes to see Afton and Mom standing at the foot of my bed, squared off like boxers.
Dear god, I think. Here we go.
“That is unacceptable, young lady!” Mom says, in as close to a shout as she gets. “You can’t simply not come home at night!”
“This isn’t my home!” Afton hollers back.
“You know what I mean!”
“I’m eighteen!” Afton yells. “I’m legally an adult. I can do what I want!”
“This is my house—” Mom pauses, jaw clenching. “My hotel room, and as long as you’re part of this family, staying in our rooms, you’ll do what you’re told. It’s not unreasonable for me to ask you to come home at night, and for you to let us know where you are. Who you’re with. What you’re doing.”
“No,” Afton says.
“No?”
“No. And what are you going to do about it? Ship me home? Lock me up?”
“I’m considering it,” Mom says. “I’m surprised at you, Afton. Normally I can trust you to be responsible. Think about the example that you’re setting for your sisters.”
“Oh. That’s nice,” Afton says. “Coming from you.”
I scramble out from under the covers. “Hey, you two, let’s—”
“Stay out of it, Ada,” they both say at the same time, with the same exact inflection.
They are too much alike.
“So I assume you spent the night with Michael Wong,” Mom says. She gives a humorless laugh. “I knew you had a crush on him, and I thought he must be humoring you. But staying out with him all night, that’s—”
“That’s none of your business,” Afton says.
“Everything you do is my business,” Mom argues. “I created you. My body assembled the cells that made you a person. That makes you my business.”
“Doesn’t the human body replace every single cell over the course of seven years?” Afton says.
“And the Wongs are my business,” Mom continues like she didn’t hear. “Billy Wong is my closest colleague. My partner at work. My friend.”
My breath freezes. This would be the most opportune time for Afton to confront Mom about Billy, and I don’t know how to stop her. I don’t know how to stop any of this.
“Stop,” I say, but they ignore me. “You’re going to wake up Abby.” My little sister is a deep sleeper. She’s literally slept through a fire alarm before, without so much as stirring. But still. She’s just in the next room over.
Afton scoffs. “Oh, so you’re afraid I’m going to make you look bad in front of your work buddies.”
“No, but having a fling with Michael Wong reflects badly on all of us,” Mom says.