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AMARA WENT HOME THAT evening, but only to gather Silvia and a few overnight things. When she walked inside, her mother sat at the table, staring at the ceiling. Amara blinked, surprised that she wasn't asleep on the floor somewhere—she was even more shocked when she didn't see any beer cans lying around.
"I've been waiting for you," Margot said, and she shut the door behind her.
"You have?"
"I want my money back, Amara," she said, standing up. "I know you took it."
"I had to. I paid the bills with it."
"All two thousand?" Margot demanded, towering over her daughter.
"Yes," Amara lied. "That's what happens when you get stuck months behind in bills. We almost didn't have electric, or hot water. Or anything." Amara took a breath, her eyes widening. "Are you...sober?"
"Yes," Margot answered. "Haven't had a drink in two days, but you wouldn't know that, would you? You haven't been here."
"Can you blame me?" She shot back. "Every time I'm here you bombard me with insults, and tell me how worthless I am! I don't need you to point out all my flaws, you know. I'm well aware I have a lot of them, so the next time you drink, try to remember that."
"There won't be a next time."
Amara scoffed. "Yeah, okay. That's what you said last time you tried to be sober, and then you threatened me with a knife."
"I'm serious," Margot said.
"Where'd you get the money, mom?"
Margot didn't answer right away, and Amara stared at her expectantly. Her mother sighed. "I met someone. He doesn't like drinkers."
"So you got the money from him?" Amara questioned.
"Something like that."
With a confused look, Amara gave her mother a curt nod, before running up the stairs to pack an overnight bag. She made her way to her sister's room, gently shaking her shoulders to wake her up.
"What?" Silvia grumbled.
"Debbie had a really bad day today," she explained. "I think she might need a friend. Do you want to go have a sleepover?"
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"I'm not supporting six kids," Roberta's voice rang out, waking Amara from her sleep. She blinked her eyes, opening them to find Lip perched on the other end of the top bunk, looking through the cracked open door. She kicked his leg in question, and he turned his head, putting a finger to his mouth for her to stay quiet.
"We get the DNA results back tomorrow," Roberta continued. "It'll prove Liam isn't Frank's."
"Shh!" Monica shushed, and Amara quietly moved herself next to Lip so she could hear better. Their sides touched, his body heat making Amara's cheeks flush red, at least, that's what she told herself. She shook the thought away, now was the time to ponder her feelings.
