The words stabbed at my reputation in my own family, the way Vanessa always managed to frame things. I wasn’t setting a boundary. I was rejecting her. I was cruel.
My mother’s voice sharpened. “Lauren is there? Put her on.”
Vanessa lifted the phone a little higher, as if presenting me to a judge.
I swallowed. Even at twenty-nine, my mother’s tone could reduce me to the feeling of being fifteen again, standing in a hallway while she listed my failures.
“Hi, Mom,” I said. I tried to sound calm. It came out thinner than I wanted.
“Lauren Elizabeth,” she said, using my middle name like a weapon, “what is this I hear about you refusing to help your sister? You know she’s going through a difficult time.”
“Mom,” I said, gripping the back of a chair, “I didn’t know she was coming. No one told me. She just showed up.”
