“I can’t believe it,” she said.
“I wish we could just do that, refuse to believe it, tell the truth to get out and go find another family, another home.”
She nodded. “Once you left, the news spread like some computer virus. Everyone was coming up to me, expecting me to explain it. I told them I was just as surprised. I had never seen your father sick, ever.”
“I know.”
“Evan wanted me to tell you he was sorry,” she said. I looked up quickly. “About your father,” she added. “He, too, said he couldn’t believe it. He said your father looked like he could stand up to anyone or anything.”
I just stared at her.
“I’m sorry I told anyone anything about your sister, sorry it spoiled things for you with Evan.”
“It turned out to be a good thing,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“It showed me what and who he really was. Most people just use other people to satisfy some need or get something they want. When the person can’t do that for them, they move on to someone else. If you had heard him talk when we first met, you would have thought he would sacrifice a kidney for me or something. I’m never going to believe what any man says, even if he writes it in his own blood.”
“I bet your sister feels that way now,” she said. “There’s probably a lot to learn from her.”
I looked away. Chastity was still idolizing and fantasizing, I thought. “I don’t care about her anymore,” I muttered. Then I looked hard at Chastity. “My father suffered inside because of her. I’m sure it hurt his heart.”
“Oh, sure, sure. I just meant . . .”
“I don’t want to think about her right now.”
“Okay. Your mother’s not going to tell her?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at her again. What was she hoping I would say, “You go find her and tell her”?
“That’s up to my mother,” I added.
She nodded quickly. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“What can you do?” I asked, a lot more harshly than I had intended. “There’s nothing anyone can do for me, Chastity. I’ve got to help my mother get through this.”
“Oh, sure. I’d like to help her, too. Maybe she needs someone to buy things for her or do some errand or . . .”
“You can ask her,” I said.
“I will. I promise. Are you going downstairs? There are people there putting out food.
” It didn’t surprise me that eating came to her mind.
“I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to see anyone right now.”
“You want me to do anything for you at school?”
“No, nothing. I don’t want to go back to that school,” I told her.
“What? Where would you go?” she asked with surprise.
“Anyplace else.”
“But . . . your father wanted you to go there, didn’t he?”
I looked away. Suddenly, talking to her was even more painful than talking with the adults downstairs. I stood up. “I’m going down to help my mother,” I said.