notes and put down his pen. âWhoâs Steven?â
âGretchenâs boyfriend.â
âAnd whoâs Gretchen?â
âMy big sister.â
âI see.â A single strand of tinsel, probably from whatever party heâd been called away from, clung to the front of Officer Bertâs sweater. âDid he only look like Steven, or was it actually him?â
âIt was him.â
Without taking his eyes off me, his right hand slid to thewalkie-talkie clipped to his belt. âWhat makes you sure it was Steven? Do you know his last name, sweetie?â
I shook my head.
âHe doesnât have all his teeth.â It was the first full sentence Remy had uttered since weâd come upstairs, and once he said it I knew there was no holding back anymore.
âHis tooth is missing.â I opened my mouth and pointed to an incisor.
âHold on one second, sweetie.â He left the room and found my mother, still praying at the front door. I couldnât hear their conversation, but itâs not hard to guess how it went. Not thirty seconds after Officer Bert walked out, Remyâs mom stepped in with Gretchen and Abby Tickle. They wore matching Billy Idol T-shirts instead of nightgowns. Abby was a little pixie of a thing, so her shirt reached almost past her bowed knees. She was still cute in a girlish way, whereas Gretchen was almost a foot taller and already looked like a woman. Except that she wasnât; she was seventeen, but I guess that fact was easy to forget.
My mom lunged toward Gretchen and pulled her into a hug. As they wept in each otherâs arms, my mother caressed my sisterâs face with strokes that grew increasingly aggressive until before I knew it they became outright slapsâone hard smack followed by another even harder one, at which point Remyâs mom pushed her way between them, but not before my mom yanked out a fistful of Gretchenâs hair.
âThis is your fault. Itâs
your
fault.â She pointed a trembling finger at my sister, who huddled between Remyâs mom and Abby.
I screamed when I saw Gretchenâs hair, which fell to the floor in lazy wisps, and my eyes stung from a fresh gush of tears. I wondered if a person could dry out and die from too much crying. When I tried to stop, the tears continued to flow, silent but steady. Other times I sobbed until I couldnât breathe. This lasted for days, even while I slept, and continued until there wasnât a drop left for me to lose. By then I was a husk of myself, dehydrated and exhausted. We all were. I had never been so thirsty in my life.
Chapter Five
Summer 1996
My parents are divided on the question of whether I should get a summer job. Dad says no; Mom says yes. She doesnât want me hanging around the house, doing nothing for three months. I donât have a driverâs license, and even if I did, my mom needs her car to drive Hannah around most days. Mom wins, as usual, and I get the job of helping Susan Mitchell clean out her familyâs basement. Formerly occupied by Susanâs now-deceased mother-in-law, the space is scheduled for some major renovations.
âDo you know what a âman caveâ is? My husband wants one.â She sniffs the air in the dim, damp basement. Even though the layout is identical to ours, I can barely tell because of all the stuff crowding the room. âMold,â Susan announces, wrinkling her nose. âIâm sorry, Sam. Itâs a potpourri of mold and mildew down here.We kept a dehumidifier running for Betsy. We never would have put her down here by herself, but she became very paranoid toward the end of her life. You remember her, Sam, donât you?â
âOf course I do. We called her Grandma Bitty.â
Susan smiles. âI know. She was a wonderful woman. I couldnât have asked for a better mother-in-law. But once she developed dementia, she became a whole different person. She was