For a moment she stood ten feet from Maya.
Neither knew what to say.
Simone looked toward the fire pit.
Then at Maya.
“I’m sorry.”
Maya stared.
Simone swallowed.
“That isn't enough.”
“No.”
“I know.”
Maya’s face hardened.
“Don't say that.”
Simone closed her eyes.
“Right.”
She tried again.
“I burned something that belonged to you because I was angry about something you didn't choose.”
Maya said nothing.
“I wanted you to feel loss because I thought your life had too much protection.”
Simone’s voice shook.
“That was cruel.”
“Yes.”
Maya answered.
Simone nodded.
“I’ll pay for the dress.”
Maya looked toward the ashes.
“You can't pay for tomorrow.”
Simone’s face broke.
“No.”
“That too.”
Maya turned away.
Conversation over.
Renee and Simone left.
Adrian did not stop them.
That night the beach house felt enormous.
Maya slept in a guest room instead of her usual bedroom because her pink shoes, makeup, and jewelry were arranged across her own room for a birthday dinner she no longer wanted.
At 10:14 p.m., Adrian knocked.
“Can I come in?”
Maya looked toward the door.
“It's your house.”
Silence.
She immediately regretted it.
Not because it was too harsh.
Because it was factually wrong now, apparently.
Adrian answered:
“Can I come in?”
Maya looked at the ceiling.
“Yes.”
He entered carrying nothing.
Good.
No keys.
No papers.
No replacement dress.
He sat in the chair by the window.
Maya remained under the blanket.
“Party is canceled.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“You're not going to argue?”
“No.”
“What about Grandma?”
“I’ll call everyone.”
“The caterer?”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Deposit?”
“Not your problem.”
Maya stared.
“Apparently money is my problem.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“I deserved that.”
“No.”
She sat up.
“This is what I don't get.”
“What?”
“You keep saying things like that.”
“You deserved it.”
“You made a mistake.”
“You'll fix it.”
“Everybody gets sentences.”
“What do I get?”
Adrian stared.
Maya’s voice cracked.
“I get a burned dress.”
“A house I didn't know about.”
“A dead mom everybody uses when they talk about me.”
“A stepsister who hates me for money I never asked for.”
“A stepmother who knew more about my life than I did.”
“And tomorrow I turn sixteen.”
She cried.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
Adrian had no answer.
For once he did not manufacture one.
He moved from the chair to the floor beside the bed.
Not touching her.
Just closer.
“I don't know.”
Maya looked at him.
Good.