Chương 6
She had also chosen, one second at a time, to grab her, follow her, touch her again, leave after she fell, and tell a different version before anyone confronted her.
Intent had become a place to hide from the rest of the verbs.
At six thirty, Ethan made coffee.
He did not drink it.
At seven ten, Claire arrived without calling.
The doorbell chimed.
Maya woke with a violent start.
Ethan was at the door before Claire could ring again.
He stepped outside and pulled the door mostly shut behind him.
Claire looked terrible.
Her blond hair was tied back crookedly. She wore sweatpants and an old college sweatshirt. In one hand she held a cardboard tray with two coffees.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“I brought coffee.”
“I see that.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re making me stand on the porch like I’m selling something.”
“Maya’s asleep.”
Claire glanced toward the camera.
Then back at him.
“Mom said you blocked her.”
“I muted her.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
Claire thrust one coffee toward him.
He took it mostly because she looked as though she might drop it.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Across the street, Mrs. Cardenas rolled her trash bin toward the curb in pink gardening gloves.
Claire lowered her voice.
“I watched the video.”
Ethan looked at her.
“How?”
“Mom sent me a screen recording.”
His stomach turned.
“What screen recording?”
“The clip.”
“She shouldn’t have access anymore.”
“She recorded it before you kicked her out.”
There it was.
The cost of delay measured in minutes.
“What did she send?”
Claire pulled out her phone.
The video began after Maya had already pulled away from Gloria’s first grip.
It showed Maya saying, “Don’t touch me.”
It showed Gloria raising her hands.
It showed Maya turning.
Then Gloria’s second reach and the fall.
The video ended almost immediately afterward.
“What happened before this?” Claire asked.
“You said you watched it.”
“I watched what Mom sent me.”
“That’s not the whole clip.”
Claire’s face changed.
“Of course you’d say that.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Do you hear yourself?”
Her mouth tightened.
“Do you hear you?”
He almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because siblings could be forty years old and still become twelve on the right porch.
“She left out the part where she grabbed Maya first.”
Claire looked toward the door.
“What did Maya say to her before that?”
Ethan did not answer.
Claire nodded as though silence proved something.
“Exactly.”
“What could Maya possibly have said that makes Mom putting hands on her okay?”
“I didn’t say okay.”
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Making sure there’s room for Mom to be less wrong.”
Claire went still.
Ethan recognized the hurt before the anger.
She had spent three years living twelve minutes from Gloria.
She handled the furnace technician when Gloria refused to answer unknown numbers. She drove her to eye appointments. She changed light bulbs in the vaulted ceiling because Gloria would climb a ladder alone if nobody stopped her. When Raymond died, Claire was the one who slept on the couch for nine nights.
Ethan had sympathy for her.
He also saw, maybe for the first time, what that sympathy had purchased.
“You got to leave,” Claire said.
“I live twenty minutes away.”
“You know what I mean.”
He did.
She folded her arms.
“When Dad died, you went back to your life.”
“I went back to work.”
“You went back to Maya.”
“Maya is my life.”
Claire looked away.
The sentence hung between them.
Not because it was romantic.
Because Claire had not expected him to say it without qualification.
She stared across the street.
“Mom thinks Maya hates her.”
“Maya doesn’t trust her.”
“That’s not the same?”
“No.”
Claire gave him a flat look.
“It feels the same to the person who isn’t trusted.”
“That doesn’t make the mistrust wrong.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
She became angry about it immediately.
“I’m not defending what she did.”
“You are.”
“I’m explaining.”
“You always think explanation is different from defense.”
“So do you.”
That stopped him.
Claire shifted the coffee tray to her other hand.
“You’re acting like you just discovered Mom can be difficult. You’ve known your whole life. You just let me handle it.”
Ethan said nothing.
“And now because it landed on Maya, suddenly you’ve found boundaries.”
The words were cruel.
They were also accurate enough to stay.
Claire saw that.
Her shoulders dropped.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am for how I said it.”
“That’s different.”
“Fine.”
They stood there while a garbage truck groaned around the corner.
Ethan looked at the coffee she had brought.
“Mom sent you the clip to prove it was an accident?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you police took a report?”
Claire’s face closed.
“Yes.”
“What did she ask you to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
“She wanted me to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Not making it worse.”
Ethan looked up at the camera.
His sister followed his eyes.
“I want the clip she sent you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not getting pulled into evidence.”
“You already are.”
“Don’t.”
“She sent you an edited version of something police now have.”
“I don’t know that she edited it.”
“It starts halfway through.”
“Maybe that’s what the app recorded.”
“It isn’t.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“I hate this.”
“So does Maya.”
Claire flinched.
Good, Ethan thought.
Then hated himself for thinking it.
He held out his hand.
“Send it to me.”
Claire stared at him.
Finally she did.
Before leaving, she said, “Mom hasn’t slept.”
Ethan nearly answered.
Then he stopped.
Claire saw him stop.
The saddest thing about the moment was that she seemed proud of him.
Inside, Maya was awake.
She was sitting exactly where Ethan had left her, both hands around a glass of water.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know Claire still hates our porch.”
May you like
“She always has.”
“She says it makes the house look fake Southern.”
