“Do you think that’s what Marin was doing for Vera when she kept her secrets for her, like the tattoo and the boyfriend? Was this Marin’s way of standing up for Vera?”

Debra shook her head. “Standing up for her against what?”

“Against me. I know I sometimes…expected too much from Vera.”

She scoffed. “No, dear, I don’t think Marin was trying to protect Vera. But I do think Marin is the reason Vera’s missing.”

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Marin

I had been warned beforehand that Felicity was still upset with me. But I insisted on showing up to family dinner with an apology, because I didn’t want to hide and my sister needed my support. Dad had raised me to confront problems, fix them, not to run from them because the chase only makes them grow. My mother had never learned this lesson as she buried her addiction, and in the end it buried her. I refused to follow in her footsteps. Besides, the more I hid, the more they’d dig. And I couldn’t risk anyone digging.

Debra and Joe hadn’t been able to make it tonight, which gave me the freedom to loosen up a bit. By the time dinner was served I was on my third glass of wine, which was two glasses beyond my limit. At least I wasn’t the only one. Felicity was already plastered when I arrived, and I wasn’t sure if I was more annoyed or relieved. She tended to either get argumentative or overly affectionate when she drank, and I waited to see which version of her would emerge.

We sat around the dinner table, Oliver at the head, me catty-corner on one side with Felicity across from me, all avoiding the topic of Vera, instead picking random topics. The new COVID variant going around, Eliot’s science project (he was debating whether to feature bugs or wind—breaking wind, he added with a laugh, as they were studying weather right now), the Earth Day carnival coming up…and then Argumentative Felicity arrived.

“I’m taking a poll. Who thinks it’s okay for Cool Aunt Marin to give a teenager pot?” Felicity looked around the table, eyes wobbly, words a slurry of vowels and consonants. “Or am I just an unhip, cringey mom who doesn’t get it?”

Oliver, the only sober adult among us, bowed his head and rested his forehead on his palm. He thought he was embarrassed?

“Felicity, I wasn’t trying—”

“Shush!” Felicity aimed her finger toward my face, missing my mouth altogether and instead landing on my cheek. “I’m speaking, Cool Aunt Marin.”

“Mommy, you’re as cool as Aunty Marin to me and Idiot,” Sydney chimed in.

“Aw, thank you, babycakes. But apparently your daddy doesn’t think so,” Felicity slurred.