Free Mayday by Jonathan Friesen Page B

know how half of this is Jude speaking through her. He puts on that therapist face and pretty much convinces her the sky is green. He’s taking over the house, Addy.”
    Addy peeked up and whispered, “I don’t want to talk about this again.”
    Crow glanced at the door and lowered her voice. “But we have to. Jude isn’t right.”
    â€œHe’s friendly enough.”
    â€œTo you. Do you notice? Only to you. Touchy, waiting, watching.”
    Addy rubbed her arms, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
    â€œWhy did Dad leave? I know I made it tough. I get that, so I’m not innocent.” Crow peeked at me, her face softening. “But I’ve been thinking lately: there must have been another reason. That reason is Jude.”
    Keep talking, Crow.
    â€œDad’s probably happy, wherever he is. Adele, we don’t have to stay either. You and I could—”
    â€œI’m not leaving Mom. She needs us. I need her.”
    How many times I’d danced around the issue:
Run away with me! We could do it.
Each time it came back to the same thing. This curious, unreasonable connection between Adele and Mom. Though Mom was little more than an extension of Jude, Addy would not let her go.
    The sisters fell silent.
    â€œThe main thing is that you two stay together,” I said. “And more than together, trust each other, trust that you have each other’s best interests in mind.” They glanced at me, and at each other. Then they hugged.
    I should have been a therapist.
    â€œSo you’re the daughter of my ex-husband.” Mom strutted in. “Given your age, my ex would have likely rushed from Regions Hospital, where I had Crow, to the bedside of his mistress, who would have been busy producing you.” She paused. “Then again, Crow’s entrance into the world would make almost any man do that.”
    Her face darkened, the face that blamed Crow for Dad’s departure. “Yes, Crow would make any man hungry for a different home.”
    â€œNo, Mom,” Addy grabbed Crow’s wrist. “You need to stop saying that. He loved us both.”
    Crow stormed out of the room, and my gaze followed. Those digs had been so common, so everyday; I never felt their cruelty, not from the inside. But now, I saw the sickness of the words, the disease that spread through the house.
    â€œMaybe Dad was a polygamist,” I said. “Or a sperm donor. Or maybe you just forgot that you had a third child, ever thought of that?”
    Adele burst out laughing, and the dark shadow passed from Mom’s face. She chuckled. “I declare, you are something.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are something. You know, you do look like Cameron. It’s in the eyes.” She sighed. “So the school wanted to know if I claimed you. I told them that depended on whether you tilted toward Crow or Adele.”
    â€œTwo fine choices, if you ask me. What do you think?” I asked.
    â€œTime will tell. I don’t know where you rightfully belong, so I won’t sign anything legal, but if you can keep Crow on the straight and narrow, you can stay here for life.”
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    Straight and narrow. I hated those words, and they kicked me into a memory.
    Confession time. Aside from my little thirteen-year-old flirtation with an empty garage and Jude’s Winstons, the only place I ever drank or smoked was at Dove’s. I did no other drug, and committed no crime other than those against my own body. I couldn’t afford to—I had to be coherent for the nights.
    Despite my reasonably responsible attitude toward substance abuse, I found myself in juvenile detention four times, four of the most terrifying nights of my life. I was never there for more than a night, and never for an instant was I frightened for myself. Though Jude’s nighttime visits to our room had long since ended, fear for Addy’s safety