“I don’t care,” Chrissy says. “You all are here, and that’s all that matters.”
We heard from our mother a couple times, after the restraining order expired. I didn’t renew it because it felt weird to bring it all back up when things had been quiet. The distance from her made me feel bad for her—a little—and not just hate her. Not that I would let her back into my life or anything, but drugs are a serious thing, and addicts have a lot of problems. She’s not willing to get help, and that’s on her. But I still feel sorry for her.
Of course, every time she reached out, it was only because she needed something. The answer was always no. I have no idea how she found my phone number, but I told her to lose it the last time I heard from her. She must have. Or maybe she’s waiting to reach out again. I can’t be sure, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t have to worry about her anymore. We have our own things going on.
Brandon, that same boy who was at Chrissy’s party a few years ago, and every one since, comes up to us.
“Hey, Chrissy, congratulations,” he says with a smile, opening his arms for a hug.
“Thanks, Brandon,” she says, her cheeks turning red. “You too.” She hugs him and they linger for a moment too long. I raise my brow at Cammy, who rolls her eyes. I almost say something about this prolonged hug, but she pulls back, red as a tomato.
“So, a bunch of us are going out to dinner in like twenty minutes. Do you want to come?” he asks.
“Hell yeah,” she says with a smile.
“Chrissy—”
“Leave her alone,” Cammy hisses at me. “Of course you can go. Just be home by one, please. And make sure you text.”
“In that case,” Harmon says, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “This should help.” He hands it to her.
“What’s this?” she asks, looking down at it.
“Your graduation present from me and Cassius.”
“Thank you! Love you!” Chrissy calls, taking off with that boy and shoving the envelope into her pocket beneath her graduation gown.
It’s a credit card… with no limit. Harmon insisted. I thought he was crazy.
“How much can one girl rack up?” he’d asked.
I only laughed.
Cammy gives me a little shove. “Why do you tell me to date but try to murder every guy she talks to with your eyes?”
I have nothing to say to that, so I say nothing.
“You already gave her your gift?” I change the subject.
“Yeah,” Cammy says with a smile. “I gave it to her before she left. I couldn’t tell if she’s wearing it…”
“I’m sure she is. It was beautiful.”
“It was, Camarra,” Harmon adds.
He helped Cammy pick out the necklace for her. They do things together sometimes, and I love it. It makes me so happy seeing the family we’ve created—as non-traditional as it may be. It’s ours and we love it. We’re happy.
The sun is setting, and the music is low as we drive home.
“Oh, how was your meeting today?” I ask Harmon. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier.”
He takes my hand. “You were occupied with your sister… and not getting red sauce on your shirt.”
Cammy laughs from the back seat.
“Did it go okay?” I ask. “Is everything done?”
“Everything is done,” he says with a relieving smile. “And I’ll tell you, we are all thrilled. Dealing with this for three years—the depositions, his ridiculous appeals—” He shakes his head. “It has not been fun, and I am glad it’s over.”