“Shut up, Janelle. This has nothing to do with you,” Paris says.

“Oh, really? Have you both already forgotten about our mother’s request, or are you going to ignore all rationality and that little thing called respect and let your anger decide what you should do? And you’ve both got the nerve to talk about being in control? Where’s yours? Do you two think this is how we should be behaving on the same damn day we bury our mother?”

“She started it.”

“You started it,” Paris snaps. “Criticizing me about something that didn’t even concern you!”

“Stop it!” Janelle screams.

“Okay, but one last thing. From the sound of things, Charlotte, it seems like this shit started a long time ago,” Paris says. “I don’t know what I’ve done to you to cause you to dislike me so, but I wish you’d tell me what it is.”

But I can’t think of nothing right now. I need some time to remember. And besides, I don’t like being put on the spot like this. “I don’t feel like getting into it right now.”

“Well, what breaks my heart more than anything is that you seem to have convinced yourself that I’m out to get you, when I’m not. I love you, Charlotte, but you’re making it awfully hard to like you.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.”

And on that note Paris throws the dishrag in the sink and walks right past me and Janelle and heads out to the garage, where I hear her rental car start up. Janelle is just standing there with her hands on her hips. The house is damn near empty now, and it’s a mess. Paris did say she loved me, didn’t she? I feel kinda bad but relieved at the same time.

“I hope you’re satisfied now, Charlotte.”

“What you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” she says. “Let’s just get this place cleaned up so we can all get some sleep. It’s been a long day, and you must have confused it with the Fourth of July, because these grand-finale fireworks were truly magnificent.” She bends down to pick up my Sock-It-to-Me cake saucer, but then stops herself. “Why don’t you pick this up?”

“I will.”

“Good. Mama’s probably turning over in her grave already if she was watching you two act like two bitches on a side street. It’s a damn shame.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Sometimes that’s not enough, Charlotte. Sometimes that’s just not enough. As a matter of fact, you clean up. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. I’ll get up early and help. But I can’t right now.”

She’s crying. And as soon as she leave, I pick that plate up off the floor and slide my index finger through the frosting and lick it. But it taste terrible mixed with tears.

What I’m Fighting For

“Hey, get away from that car,” I yell.

“We ain’t doing nothing to this fucking car,” one of the Mexican dudes says. It looks like there’s about four of ’em, but I can’t be sure. I’m kinda fucked up. I’ve been kicking it with Silas all day, ’cause he just had a baby and we were celebrating the birth of his son. He left a few hours ago, and I guess I kept the celebration going.