Storms 01 - Family Storms

some special attention.
    “I guess you’re adapting pretty well,” he said before driving off. He rarely said anything, so I was pleased and actually felt myself blushing. I waved when I saw Kiera driving away, but she didn’t notice.
    Either because we were friendlier now and she was assuming more of a big sister’s role or because she had reached some important realizations about herself, Kiera complained less and less about her therapy and behaved much more nicely and kindly toward her mother. I still saw the suspicion flashing in Mrs. March’s face, but even she began to relax more. On Thursday night, after dinner was over and we were heading up to our rooms, Kiera claiming that she was trying hard to do better in her schoolwork, Mr. March asked me to follow him to his office.
    “I’d like to speak with you a moment, Sasha.”
    Kiera paused, too.
    “You can go up, Kiera. I just need to talk to Sasha right now,” he said.
    Kiera looked at me with fear and warning in her face, but she didn’t linger. Mrs. March followed Mr. March and me to his office. He smiled at me as soon as we entered.
    “There’s nothing wrong, Sasha,” he said. “You can wipe away your look of anxiety. On the contrary, there’s something right.”
    He went to his desk and took a cigar out of a box. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing with his cigar toward the red bullet leather chairs. I sat, and he lit his cigar.
    “You could wait until she leaves, Donald,” Mrs. March said. “Not everyone loves the stench of cigar smoke.”
    “Oh. Sorry. Does this bother you, Sasha?”
    “No, sir.”
    There had been a time not so long ago when the aroma of a lit cigar would have been more like perfume when compared with the odors surrounding me.
    He leaned against the front of his desk.
    “First,” he began, “I want to thank you for giving Kiera a chance to redeem herself when it comes to you. You have every reason to hate every cell in her body. I know it looks like I’m totally aloof from all that goes on here, but I assure you, I’m not. Both Mrs. March and I have kept in close contact with Kiera’s therapist, and we’re very happy with her progress.”
    “We hope it’s real,” Mrs. March said.
    “I think Dr. Ralston would be a better judge of that than we would, don’t you, Jordan?”
    “I’d hope so. I have a closet full of Kiera’s broken promises to us both.”
    He shook his head slightly at her, puffed on his cigar, and turned back to me. “In any case, you’ve been very generous in permitting her to rework herself into decent behavior. I’m also impressed with the influence you’ve had on her. Now, even more important perhaps, I wanted to tell you how pleased I am to hear about your own progress and achievements. I must admit I was wary when Jordan, Mrs. March, wanted to have this arrangement, but I’m very happy to be proven wrong. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?”
    I looked at Mrs. March. She was finally smiling warmly.
    “No, sir. I have more than I ever dreamed I would have,” I said, and he laughed.
    “You and me both, Sasha. You and me both. Okay. I just wanted to have this little talk. Don’t hesitate to come to me if I can do anything more or if anything bothers you, okay? I know you have Mrs. March to rely on, but I want you to know you have me as well.”
    “Thank you.”
    He smiled and went around to his desk chair. I rose, glanced at Mrs. March, and then hurried out and up the stairs. Kiera was waiting for me at her doorway.
    “What did he want?” she asked. “Was he trying to get you to tell him something? My mother must have put him up to it. Well?”
    “No, nothing like that,” I said. “He wanted to tell me how pleased he was with how things were going between us and how both of us were doing now,” I said. “He told me not to hesitate if I needed or wanted anything.”
    “My father said that?”
    “Yes. He was very nice, nicer to me than ever.”
    She studied me a moment to see if I was telling the truth and then smiled. “That’s my father. He can be a real charmer when he wants to be. This is great. Mother might ease up on us. Okay. Get to your homework,” she said, and went into her room.
    On Friday as planned, all of the girls in the VA club met us after school and followed as Kiera drove me to a tattoo parlor in West L.A. The man doing the tattoos looked as if he was tattooed on every possible area of his body. There was a snake up his right