Free Romancing the Dark in the City of Light by Ann Jacobus

and I have my work, even though it’s hardly lucrative. But you would certainly be able to take care of yourself.” She chuckles. “And anyone else you could think of.”
    “Oh.” That would be good, Summer thinks. She likes money and knows she’s too wimpy to get by without it. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Mom just wants her to take care of herself. She has been for years, emotionally anyway, if not financially. It’s no secret that Adrienne never wanted to be a mom in the first place.
    “How is it with Dr. Garnier?” Mom asks.
    “Fine. She’s, uh, well dressed. We were going to discuss Dad’s death last session, but we didn’t have time.”
    Mom doesn’t bite. “Have you made some friends?”
    “Yes. Loads of them.”
    Mom takes a sip from her drink, then backtracks. “I know you feel like we’re riding you hard about your school and the will. I suppose we are. But it’s a lot of money at stake. A lifetime of financial independence. What’s being requested of you is not that difficult.”
    Summer bristles. “How do you know? How can you say that? Maybe not hard for you, but it is for me.”
    “Don’t raise your voice. Why is it hard?” Mom asks evenly.
    “I don’t know. Studying is so … I can’t focus. Anymore.” Or care, she thinks. What’s hard is to describe how she feels lately. If she could only use one word, it would be “gray.” Or one phrase, Trapped in a giant cobweb of blah. Nothing is exciting. Not parties, not clubs, not movies or TV, not new clothes or shoes or a convertible. Not even Disneyland Paris.
    Moony is a bright spot, but she’s not even sure about that anymore. Explaining any of this to Mom is not worthwhile.
    Mom resumes, “Dr. Garnier should be able to help you with that. But you’ve got to make a big effort here, Summer. To throw all that money away—a huge gift like that, would be like throwing away … your whole life.” She gazes at Summer in the mirror.
    “Why are there so many flipping strings attached? Why can’t I just get my GED? Then an online degree or something?”
    Mom says lightly, “Everything has strings attached, darling.”
    “Right.” Mom’s love and approval falls into that thousand-dollar category: Things with Strings Attached.
    Summer reminds herself that Mom’s mother ran off with a tennis pro, when poor Mom was only seven. And Aunt Liz was five. Another fascinating but verboten topic.
    Mom continues but looks like she just sniffed an off wine. “Also because your grandfather was a very controlling man. He didn’t want you to turn out like your dad.”
    “Jesus.” Summer wishes for the thousandth time she had siblings to divert family attention. And the whole toxic thing between Dad and Grandpa. She didn’t see Grandpa much, and doesn’t really remember or was too young to understand it.
    “There was so much antagonism between them that I’m sure in their next lives the two of them will be sent back as Siamese twins.”
    “ Conjoined . And I don’t get it.”
    Mom blinks at her reflection. “They’d have to learn to live with one another. Settle their bad karma.”
    “I didn’t know you believed in reincarnation,” Summer says.
    “I’m just saying.” Mom sighs. “Was there anything else?”
    Yes, there is. She plunges ahead. “I wanted to ask you about Dad.”
    Mom’s elbow juts in the air, holding the curling iron in her bangs. She shifts to see Summer at a better angle in the mirror, one thin eyebrow raised.
    “How did he die? I mean I know his death certificate says brain hemorrhage. But what exactly happened? And why?” Their housekeeper had realized he was locked in the bathroom, she knows that much. Summer had been spending the night with a friend and was taken to the hospital before they took him off life support.
    “Your father’s drinking problem had gotten serious. He had alcohol-related complications.”
    “What complications?”
    “Liver issues. Esophageal bleeding.”
    “What does that