Dad took off to wherever to talk to whomever, leaving Aria and me to receive fake sympathy from Mom’s equally fake friends. It was a big fake-fest.
Each offered some variation of the same generic platitudes, daintily dabbing at their eyes despite the fact they weren’t crying. After all, they couldn’t risk ruining their makeup.
Or showing normal human emotion.
That was until one woman reached us. Splotchy faced and openly weeping, it took me a moment to recognize the member of Mom’s country club circle—well, the outer edge of her circle.
“Girls,” Sharon Anderson cried before breaking down into more tears as she threw herself into our arms.
My gaze darted to Aria, who just shrugged and patted the back of the hysterical woman.
“Your mom was a goddess,” Sharon whimpered wetly into Aria’s hair.
Yeah, if there’s a goddess of booze and Botox.
Pulling away, Sharon wiped at her face, smearing her mascara further. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. It was so sudden and now my best friend is gone. Your mother is gone. She loved you girls so much.”
There it was.
The first hint of feeling I’d had all day.
Unfortunately—and inappropriately—the emotion that broke through was amusement.
I choked back a sudden burst of laughter, the sound coming out like a sob.
“I know,” Sharon tutted, squeezing my upper arm. “We’re all going to miss her and her beautiful, selfless spirit.”
The only spirit Mom had was the vodka in her ever-present drink.
That time, there was no choking back the laugh that forced its way out. Disguising it as more sobs, my shoulders shook as I buried my face in my hands and fought to get control. But once I started laughing, I could not stop.
“Sorry,” Aria said, wrapping an arm around me. “She’s, uh, super upset.”
“Of course she is, the poor thing,” Sharon sniffled, cluing me in that her own tears were starting again, which only made my laughter increase until actual tears flowed.
“Excuse us,” Aria said, pulling me away from the group and not stopping until we were alone in a small, dimly lit room filled with extra chairs. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Sorry,” I wheezed, “but that was funny.”
“What was?”
“All of it.” I gestured toward the door. “Sharon is out there blubbering and calling Mom her best friend. Mom talked so much shit about her. She’s the one who told everyone except Sharon about her husband’s wandering dick. She hated her.”
At the reminder of stupid, pesky feelings like hatred, I checked the time and saw I was past due for my meds. I fished my pill tray out of my purse and emptied two of the compartments into my palm before pulling out a small bottle of water.
“I know today has been rough,” Aria said, slipping into psychologist mode, “but you can’t overmedicate to get through it.”
“I’m not. These are my one o’clocks.”
“All of them?”
“Mmhmm,” I murmured, swallowing the pills a few at a time.
“What are you even taking?”
“Little of this, little of that.” I wasn’t being evasive, I couldn’t remember all the weird names.
A small frown pulled at Aria’s mouth as she studied me with a clinical eye. Usually that’d make me feel uncomfortable but I was used to it. I was also too busy trying to kill my emotions for the rest of the day to be bothered.
Her voice was soft and loaded with concern. “Are things not going well at therapy?”
I rattled the rest of the pills in my hand. “You’re looking at therapy.”
“Mom said you were doing inpatient at one of those high-end holistic places focused on wellness and spiritual healing or some shit.”
“Why go through all the hard work of trying to actually help when they can throw medication at rich people and call them success stories? It’s the same at all the spas she shipped me off to.”
“But she told me—”
“A lie. Surprise, surprise. Which is why it’s fucking hilarious that all those people were going on and on about Mom like she was a saint and not Satan.”
Aria’s eyes went wide. “Briar.”
“You’re right, that comparison is offensive… to Satan.” I cracked up again. “And now she’s his problem, the poor demon.” My laughter broke, catching in my throat to choke me as it mixed with sudden sobs.
Real ones.
Saying something about normal reactions, Aria reached for me, trying to hug me. Comfort me.
I didn’t want or need either.
“You don’t get it,” I said through happy tears. “I’m free.”
“What does that mean?”
Caught up in my relief and joy, my exhaustion and shock, I lowered my walls and