Storms 01 - Family Storms

hit you and your mother,” she said.

3
Kiera’s Mistake
    I didn’t know what to say when Mrs. March told me her daughter had hit Mama and me, so I just watched her as she began to pace back and forth, moving her hands as if she were speaking. I think she was trying to find the right words. Were there right words?
    She turned, pressing her lips together. Then she took a deep breath and continued. “She was high on one of her recreational drugs. X they call it.” She paused and turned to me. “Do you know what that is?”
    I nodded.
    “But you don’t use that stuff, do you?”
    “No,” I said, but what difference would that possibly make to her?
    “Good. Kiera has been more than a handful for us. She has everything any girl her age could possibly want. My husband, Donald, is one of the most successful builders in Southern California. Half the malls you see are malls he built, and he’s busier than ever. He gives everything he canto our daughter. Kiera has her own car. She’s already been to Europe twice. She has a wardrobe that’s even bigger than my own, not to mention expensive jewelry and watches that would choke an Arabian prince.”
    She shook her head. “You would think any girl would be grateful for the life Kiera has, but this is not the first time Kiera’s been in big trouble. Each time, my husband has bailed her out, pulled strings, saved her. The result is that she never learns a lesson. I told him. I warned him something bigger like this would happen, but he didn’t listen, and now he’s already busy saving her again. I told him this time he should let her pay the piper, but he won’t have it. He’s hired a top attorney, but this is not the first time. You can’t even begin to imagine the money we’ve had to spend on attorneys because of her.”
    She spoke quickly and excitedly, and her face turned crimson. Then she took a deep breath, looked out the window, and relaxed her shoulders. “Of course, I understand why he’s like this,” she said. “And it’s hard to blame him.”
    She sat in the chair near the bed. For a few moments, she just sat there with her head lowered. Her words and actions had captured my full attention. I was holding my breath in anticipation of the next outburst, but she began in a low, soft tone.
    “We lost our younger daughter, Alena, to acute leukemia three years ago. We took her to the best doctors and the best hospitals in the country, but we couldn’t save her. You can have all the money in the world, Sasha, and still not be happy. Anyway, Donald doesn’t want to lose Kiera, too. I don’t, either, but I think that his always finding waysto excuse her misbehavior will lead to us losing her. It’s like a slow disease, just getting worse and worse. You’re probably too young to understand all of this,” she added, and sighed. “Forgive me for throwing it all at you like this, especially at this time when you’re soaked in your own horrible trouble.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    She looked at me again, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe you’re
not
too young to understand what I’m saying. Children who live harder lives grow up faster. I’m sure you’ve seen more than your share of the dark side, and now look at what’s happened to you. I’m sorry. I really am, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make things better.”
    “My mother’s dead,” I said. “They told me she died instantly.”
    Her whole face seemed to tremble. She understood that I meant there was no way to make my mother better, there was no nice room for her or expert doctors to fix her injuries. No one could promise her anything anymore, so Mrs. March couldn’t make things much better for me. Mrs. March looked as if she would cry and did turn away to dab her eyes with her handkerchief.
    I certainly didn’t feel sorry for her. I didn’t care how unhappy she was or what terrible things had happened to her. Maybe that was mean, but I didn’t feel like feeling sorry for anyone else except Mama and myself at the moment. Did she expect me to say it wasn’t her daughter’s fault? Had she come here and done all this for me so I would forgive her daughter and help her feel better?
    “It’s terrible. I know,” she said, still looking away. “Thatpoor woman. On top of struggling just to exist.” She sighed and turned back to me. “How did the two of you end up living on the street? I see so many people pushing carts and sleeping in tents or just under something. Some of