seat.
âSo sheâs here.â The words sound hollow coming out, the opposite of the nauseating maelstrom of excitement and fear flooding my veins. âWhat, is she waiting for a formal invitation?â I try to laugh, but no sound comes out.
âShe got scared,â Tim says.
âPoor baby,â I snap.
âHey.â For the first time I see anger flash across his face. âSheâs been through a lot, too.â
âWell, get her out. We can compare notes.â I can see Yvonne peering through the kitchen door, making a
what-the-hell?
face at me. If this gets me in trouble, I swear Iâll go Schwarzenegger on Timâs J. Crew ass.
âSheâs not ready now,â he says. âBut she will be. I know you can help her.â
âI doubt it.â
âMichelleââ Tim pleads, but I cut him off.
âYou know what? Stop saying my name like you know me,â I say. âYou donât the first
thing
about me or my family. You donât know what
Iâve
been through. You want me to say Iâm sorry Buck ran out on your sister?â I turn toward the car and shout, âYeah, Iâm sorry!â Tim cringes. âI know what that feels like,â I continue, my anger rising steadily. âBut sheâs not
my
sister. And Buckâs not my father. Not anymore. And if youâre capable of coming all the way to my job just to tell me all this shit, Iâm pretty damn sure you can escort Princess Leah of the Minivan down to Johns Hopkins to visit her beloved
daddy
before he croaks.â By the end of my rant, Iâm out of breath, andTim looks so taken aback that I almost feel bad for yelling at him. Almost.
âHeâs not at Johns Hopkins,â Tim says quietly. âHeâs at some hospice. In California.â
I laugh bitterly. It figures Buck ended up three thousand miles away, as far as he could possibly get from us without hopping a continent. âWell, then you should take her out there, make a little vacation for yourselves,â I say. I gesture to the car, which itâs just now dawning on me must be one of two or maybe even three they own, if the kids are allowed to take it out for joyrides. âIâm sure you can afford it.â
Tim nods down at the pavement. âYeah, well. Maybe we will.â
âGreat,â I say sarcastically by way of goodbye. I turn to walk back to the kitchen, but as my rage fades, a gnawing shame replaces it. I used to think all the time about meeting Buckâs other daughter. I pictured how it might go down, but it was never anything close to this. Leah might have hidden in the car, but I didnât behave much better. And if thereâs one thing I pride myself on, itâs being a good big sister. Someone whoâs not like my parents. Someone who doesnât walk away.
âHey,â I say, looking back over my shoulder. âIâm sorry I lost my temper. Iâm not having the best day.â
Tim nods and pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket. âI get it,â he says, âbut if you change your mind, I think you guys could help each other.â He approaches me tentatively, with his hands up in mock surrender, and holds out the paper. âItâs my number,â he explains. âAnd my receipt. I finally ordered a burrito.â
âCongratulations.â I take the slip and close my fist, crumpling it in my hand.
âIt was the least I could do,â he says, offering me an apologetic half smile.
No, the least you could have done was leave me out of this
, I think. But I donât have to tell him that; Iâm pretty sure my shouting got that point across. I make a show of putting the balled-up receipt into my pocket as some sort of peace offeringâlike I would even consider calling, like I need to add a dubious far-off inheritance and a mystery half sister with anxiety issues as bad as mine into the mix of what Iâm dealing