Tiny Tim полностью

With a single eyebrow raised in skepticism, I flipped the last page of Claire’s handwritten letter to find the printed bank statement. The grandparents truly had deposited fifty-thousand dollars in a college fund, which meant that I truly didn’t have to worry about my siblings’ tuitions anymore. Or at least before I turned eighteen and could remove the parents from my bank account. There was only one big problem with that. I was not included in the listed beneficiaries.

While I had told the grandparents that I wasn’t planning on attending college after high school, John and Danielle should have told them by now that I was indeed planning on taking college courses that would cost me a four-digit sum to start out. So, while I appreciated the reassurance, I kind of would have expected to be included in that fund, especially after I had paid eighteen grand for Logan’s education.

I also wasn’t sure how to feel about Claire’s letter. While it sounded genuine and sincere, and I could actually feel her remorse, it didn’t even touch on half the things I would have liked to hear about. Yes, she had listed the main events that had led to our current situation, and she had attempted to explain her motivation behind some of them. There still wasn’t anything in that letter I didn’t already know, except for the age at which she put me on formula, perhaps.

I had told John that I wanted to know exactly how we got to this point, not just speculation about the highlights. I asked for that because she still couldn’t tell me why she would change and suddenly treat me like her actual child. The only takeaway I got from Claire’s written words, however, was that she confused my self-preservation with independence, and, when she realized her big mistake, she accepted it anyway, since sleeping with Logan was more pleasurable than working on our relationship. In short, that letter contained no reason for me to expect anything to change.

On the other hand, while the letter may not contain an explicit reason for me to trust her again, her actions over the holidays could indeed indicate a change. She did separate from Aaron to protect her daughter. She was trying to get my attention. She did show undeniable regret over no longer being part of my life. Maybe, when I kept asking them what changed so I could believe anything they said, this was my answer. They simply couldn’t put it into words.

By the time I reached that non-conclusion, I had sat on the sofa for over an hour, and my stomach was making noises announcing my need to finally eat something proper. I dropped the letter back onto the coffee table, got off the sofa, and hobbled into the kitchen eager to prepare something that didn’t taste like sludge.

Seriously, I understand that it is easier for hospitals to make the same meal for everyone, so everyone gets something that doesn’t contain allergens, spices that could upset a patient’s stomach, or anything that would influence their blood sugar too much. But I like to taste and chew my food!

Another frustrating thirty minutes later, though, I found myself ogling the takeout menus hanging on my fridge, despite promising Nora I wouldn’t rely on those. It was surprising how many unconscious movements my arm normally makes that now hurt like hell, though I could deal with those. The real problem was how much longer everything took. I had the foresight to gather everything I needed before I started, so I wouldn’t have to jump around on one leg. But simply standing on one leg, since I couldn’t lean on my crutch AND prepare food with only my left hand, was taking a big toll on me.

Before I could reach for the takeout menus, however, I heard a key being inserted into the lock of my apartment door, and spun around with my biggest kitchen knife raised over my head ready to be thrown at the intruder.

I paused when Ava waltzed in, carrying the same overstuffed sports bag she had used the last time she moved here. My astonishment grew when, right after Ava, Claire walked in as well, also carrying an overstuffed bag.

“How the fuck did you do that!?” I asked a shocked Ava, and noticed I was still ready to throw the knife. She quickly raised her hands over her head, pointing at the keys she was holding.

“I still have the keys you gave me.”

“Oh.” I remembered giving her those keys, and realized she never gave them back. I lowered the knife, and looked at Claire. “And what are you two doing here?”

Claire stepped forward, squared herself out as she took a deep breath, and spoke in a stern voice.

“Even if you deny it, you do need help. Danny thinks you just don’t want to admit it because we are the ones who hurt you the most, so you don’t want to seem vulnerable in front of us. But I am your mother, and I will take care of you!” she said the last part with absolute conviction, even punctuated it with a subtle nod at the end.