Page 11 of Home Is Where the Bodies Are

“Why?” Nicole asks.

“She wasn’t happy with my workload.”

“That doesn’t seem like a real reason. My last boyfriend broke up with me because I sold his watch for drug money,” Nicole says, nonchalantly. “Apparently, that was a deal-breaker for him.”

Michael and I exchange worried looks. He glances at his wrist.

“I’m not going to steal your watch, Michael.” She rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t say you were,” he says.

Nicole shifts in her seat and winces. “I’m fine,” she says before either of us can ask. She positions a pillow behind her back, trying to get comfortable again. When she’s settled, she looks to Michael and then me. “Do you think Dad will come back now?” She seems so young when she asks, as though she still believes in Santa, the tooth fairy, those monsters under the bed.

Michael hangs his head and stares at the dark-gold liquid in his glass.

Mom’s final words return to me:Your father. He didn’t disappear. Don’t trust.

Nicole pulls her chin in when neither of us respond, as though she’s embarrassed to have asked the question. I consider telling them what Mom said. But I don’t. I’m not even sure it’s worth mentioning. Maybe it meant nothing.

“If he knew Mom passed, he’d come home,” I say. I’m not sure I believe those words, but I know Nicole needs them. Michael tosses back the golden liquid and pours himself another.

She nods and asks, “So, what next?”

“First, funeral arrangements. Then, we should get the house in order. Go through everything and decide what we’re going to do with it all,” I say.

“What do you mean? Like sell the house?” Nicole asks.

“Yeah. We either sell it or keep it.”

Michael leans back into the cushion. “What are you thinking, Beth?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe sell.”

“I think you should sell it,” Nicole says.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I could use the money.” Her eyes shift between Michael and me.

“For what, Nicole?” I tilt my head.

“To live on.”

Michael raises a brow, but he doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t had to deal with Nicole’s addiction like I have, so he can’t understand how bad it’s been.

“You know you can’t be trusted with money, Nicole.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she spits.

“I think you know.”

She stands quickly but winces and nearly falls over, spilling part of her drink onto Michael in the process. He groans and wipes at his pants.

“If you have something to say, Beth, then just fucking say it!” Nicole yells.

I’m used to her emotional outbursts. It comes with addiction, and it’s why I put distance between us a year ago. I couldn’t take it anymore. She’d call me every name in the book, tell me she hated me, that she wished I was dead. Sometimes, she even turned violent, lashing out at me or destroying whatever was around her when I told her no, that I wasn’t giving her any more money. I’m not sure she even remembers any of those fights.

I look up at her and draw my brows together. “What would you spend that money on, Nicole?” My voice is calm.

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