I nod. “Yeah. I am.”
“Who wants snacks?” My dad jumps to his feet and starts towards the kitchen. “How about bruschetta?”
“Dad. No.” My voice comes out harsher than I meant, and I feel the tension in the room kick up a notch. I try again, speaking as softly as I can manage. “I mean, no thank you. Do you mind sitting down? I have some things to say.”
“I think some snacks would—”
“Dad. Please.” I pause to take a breath. “Just this time, could you please stay?”
If he goes into the kitchen, he won’t come back out. It’s always been like this. He’s around for all the fun stuff, but he disappears as soon as my mom and I get into it.
He disappears as soon as I need him.
“Okay,mijita. If that’s what you want.”
He lowers himself into his faded leather armchair, and after a moment of throat clearing and nervous glances all around, Isabella sits down on the loveseat next to my mom.
I dig my nails into the fabric of the couch beneath me. “So. I came here with some things to say. I know we haven’t been the most...close, and to be honest, I didn’t come here to try and change that. I just want to clear some things up so we can all maybe move forward instead of being so stuck. Everything feels sostuckwhen it comes to this family, and we...we don’t deserve that. None of us do.”
I struggle to say it, but it’s true. Whatever happened in the past, we all deserve a future.
“I’m really angry. A lot of things happened that...that hurt. They hurt really bad, and I know I said some things that hurt too, but I...I got a chance to move forward recently, and I want to take it.” I look straight at my mom. “Mom, I know about Youssef’s letter.”
She blinks and then squints. “Youssef’s letter?”
My nails must be about to cut through the cushion cover. “Yes, Mom. Youssef’s letter, from back in high school. I know you took it and switched it for one you typed, and I really need us to talk about that.”
“Paige, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I can feel my skin getting hot, and part of my brain can’t focus on anything but grabbing the table lamp beside me and throwing it across the room.
“Mom, please. I know you took it. I met up with him again, and we figured it out. I just really need to hear it from you so we can leave it behind us.”
“Is that really what you think?” Her eyes narrow, and her voice gets even more high-pitched. “You think I would do something like that to my daughter? I’ve always looked out for you. I worked hard for you and gave you the best life I could, and now you’re going to listen to somemanlie about me? Did you forget everything I told you? This is what they do, Paige. This is why I tried to teach you, but you never wanted to listen.”
“No!” I’m shouting now, but I don’t care. “Younever wanted to listen, and he didnotlie to me!”
He couldn’t have. There were two letters. He couldn’t have made that up.
“Don’t you scream at me in my house!” My mom gets up off the couch and starts yelling in Vietnamese, which is my dad’s cue to stand up too and start slinking away.
“Really, Dad?” I hurl at him. “You’re really just going to go? Again? Like always?”
“Now, Paige, listen. Your mother—”
She cuts him off with another tirade and starts coming closer to me, holding a finger up to my face and speaking so fast I can only catch bits of what she’s saying.
Everything is so loud, and I need it to stop. I start yelling right back at her, telling her she’s wrong, that she’s lying, that I know she is. Tears are streaking down my cheeks by the time I notice Isabella getting up. She darts over to the two of us and literally wedges herself between us to shove us apart.
“ENOUGH!” she screams, and the whole room goes silent. “Enough, okay? I did it! I took the letter! I wrote the fake one! It was me. I did it.”
My mom gasps, and the floor seems to tilt under my feet.
“W-what?”
She looks at me with those eyes that are the exact same colour as mine, and I see she’s crying too.
“I’m sorry, Paige.” Her shoulders slump, and a sob wracks through her body. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to go.”
