Free The Ticket Out by Helen Knode Page B

limp, and too skinny, and her spine had settled into a permanent curve. She looked older than me, not younger, and so sad.
    I hated to see her like this, but I was also tired of worrying. I’d done what I could to help; after that, I figured it was up to her. She was an adult—her happiness was her responsibility. But she wasn’t getting better and it had put a strain on our relationship.
    The drinks came. Father lit a cigarette and took a swallow of scotch. He said, “Sara Lucille, tell your sister what we were discussing.”
    Sis sighed. “Daddy wants us to move back to Fort Worth.”
    â€œIt is a mystery why daughters of mine would live in this armpit.
Hollywood,
for Christ’s sake. It’s nothing but Hebrews and homosexuals—”
    I stuck my fingers in my ears; Sis copied me. It was one of our oldest gags. Father shook his head. “I have raised two bleeding hearts, to my undying chagrin.”
    I dropped my hands and changed the subject. “Sis says you’re here about gas leases.”
    â€œI’m scouting properties for an old boy in Houston.”
    Sis piped up. “Better California than Alaska.”
    Father guzzled more scotch and launched into a rant about the state of the oil business. He had been on the skids ever since the domestic oil industry went bust. He refused to work for the big companies, so he’d wildcatted dry wells and flopped a string of get-rich-quick schemes. Natural gas was his latest inspiration. I didn’t know how bad business was until I went to pay for Sis’s rehab. I found out that he’d been looting our trust fund for seed money. I called him on it, and Father’s response was that
rob
and
loot
were strong words: he preferred
borrowed.
Sis and I used to joke about being minor-league heiresses, but there was nothing to inherit now. Our money was gone.
    Father took a swipe at environmentalists and stood up without a pause. He leaned against the booth for balance.
    The waiter saw Father stand up and came over with the check. Father signed the credit card slip and left a gargantuan tip. He said, “I count on seeing you next Wednesday, Elizabeth Ann.”
    I said, “Have you heard from our lawyer?”
    Sis looked at me and frowned. Father said, “I had the authority to borrow from you girls.”
    â€œYou know you didn’t. You forged those releases.”
    â€œOh, horseshit, Ann!”
    He turned away too fast and had to grab the booth again. He steadied himself, focused his eyes, and walked out of the room using the booths as his plumb line.
    Sis was still frowning at me. I said, “I called a lawyer. I knew you wouldn’t go for it, so I didn’t tell you.”
    â€œI won’t sue him, Annie.”
    â€œI’m not talking about a lawsuit, I’m talking about a crime. DA, grand jury, prison—groovy stuff like that.”
    â€œI’ll never—”
    â€œDon’t get upset, it’s probably a waste of time. What’s this about next Wednesday?”
    Sis sighed. “He wants to take us out to the San Andreas Fault, you know, one of his famous geological expeditions. He leaves next Friday.”
    â€œThat’s easy—I’m not going and neither are you.” I looked at my watch and slid out of the booth. “I’ve got things to do.”
    â€œYou have to drive me home first.”
    â€œWhere’s your car?”
    â€œI sold it.”
    I leaned against the booth. “Sold it? Jesus—why?”
    â€œI needed the money.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me?”
    Sis reached up and rubbed my arm. “They cut back my hours at the bookstore, and I’ve just started with a new therapist, but she’s expensive and my insurance only covers partial psychiatric, and I...”
    She hung her head.
    I said, “How much do you need?”
    Sis kept her head down. “Five hundred. They’re going to cut off my phone,