Storms 01 - Family Storms

you. Why don’t I see you working on your calligraphy anymore, Sasha?”
    “I’ve done a little, but with my homework and clarinet practice …”
    “And the time you’re wasting riding around,” she completed for me. “This is very discouraging. Alena never lied to me, ever.”
    “Oh, please, Mother. She had her little white lies, too.”
    “Never,” she insisted. “Your bad habits never rubbed off on her. She was too good, an angel. That’s why God took her back.”
    Kiera looked away, and when she turned back, her eyes were filled with tears.
    “You just love making me out to be the bad one all the time. You did it when she was alive, and you still do it now. You hate me!” She leaped to her feet and ran out of the living room.
    “Kiera!”
    I sat there, frozen. Slowly, Mrs. March turned back to me. “I don’t hate her,” she said. “She’s my daughter. Of course I love her. I wouldn’t put up with all her antics if I didn’t care for her and love her, but I’m not one of those mothers who are so blind they will not see. I know her faults. Pretending, ignoring, excusing will not help her to change and improve. And you won’t do her any good by supporting her when she lies or disobeys.”
    She took a deep breath and sat on the settee opposite me. After a moment, she looked up at me. “Sasha, I think, as Donald does, that it’s wonderful you’ve found a way to get along with Kiera and perhaps help each other, but you must be wary. She has too many years of successfully manipulating both her father and me. She’s an expert at it. Will you be careful?”
    “Yes, Mrs. March.”
    “I don’t mind your being a normal teenager, but please, be careful. I take my responsibility for you very seriously. Remember, I made that pledge to your mother the day she was buried.”
    I nodded, now nearly in tears myself.
    “Donald is so happy at how things are going or seem to be going. I won’t say anything to him about this, but no more lying, okay?”
    “Okay, Mrs. March.”
    “Oh, I hate that ‘Mrs. March.’ At least call me Jordan,” she said. She smiled. “So, you got your ears pierced?”
    “Yes.”
    “Kiera has plenty of earrings to lend you. That’s for sure. Alena always wanted her ears pierced, but we never got around to it.” She was quiet a moment and then smiled again. “Donald is planning to take us all on a little trip, perhaps to San Francisco. Won’t that be nice?”
    “Yes, Mrs…. Jordan.”
    “Good. Okay, I won’t keep you.”
    I rose and started out. She held her smile and then turned away. I paused once after I walked out of the living room and looked back at her. She suddenly looked like thesaddest person in the world, alone, bedecked in expensive jewelry and her designer outfit, her hair recently cut and styled. But instead of looking wonderful, she looked like someone trapped and chained by her wealth, lost and alone with nothing but her expensive possessions to keep her warm.
    Kiera’s door was open. She wasn’t crying, but she was facedown on her bed. She heard me enter her suite and turned.
    “Why didn’t you run out with me?”
    “You jumped up and ran so fast I didn’t know what to do,” I said. It was the truth.
    “What did she say? Did she tell you how terrible I am again?”
    “No. She said she loves you, but she was worried. She liked that I got my ears pierced.”
    “That figures. Oh, well,” she said, shaking off her rage and smiling. “At least I got us out of that one, even if she tells my father.”
    “She said she wouldn’t.”
    “Did she? Great. I was afraid she would get him to lay down some new restrictions and ruin tomorrow. Perfect. We’ll tell them both about it at dinner. Be sure you look and sound very excited about it.” She studied me a moment. “You are, aren’t you? You’re not going to back out now?”
    “No,” I said, although I could hear a chorus of voices inside me saying
yes.
    “I’m going to take a bubble bath. Come in to talk if you want,” she said, and headed for her bathroom.
    I went to my suite and just sat for a while looking out thewindow. It was odd, I thought, but it wasn’t until now that I realized I didn’t even have a single picture of my mother. Everything we owned had disappeared in the road that night. Maybe it had all been tossed aside as junk. The sacks and the suitcases had been battered and stained. There had been some pictures in Mama’s suitcase, but we had had nothing else of any