I text back. My mom GREW UP here. She also has a bunch of aunts who are actual witches. And she won’t let me go into the house she inherited, even though it looks incredible.

Bea: Are you joking? I can’t tell if you’re joking right now. I’ll call the moment I can.

Me: Not joking.

Bea: Incroyable! She has always been so secretive.

I look up at my mom’s door. This afternoon has only highlighted what I already know: My mom and I have an enormous chasm between us, and I very much doubt that is ever going to change.

Out of desperation, I try my dad. Will he have any of the answers to my questions? But he rejects my call and answers with a text. Meeting right now, call you later?

I don’t even bother to respond.

I order Thai food and try to watch TV, but the minutes stretch by slowly, and all I can focus on is my mom’s closed door. She opened up to me today a tiny bit, and as hard as the things were that she told me, it had felt good to think I was getting even a tiny glimpse into her inner world.

But then she had shut me down so clearly. I really don’t want you getting mixed up in any of this. Do you understand?

I reach into my pocket and close my hand around the key. Would sneaking into Aunt Sage’s house be “getting mixed up” in my mom’s story? I mean, yes. Obviously.

But if I don’t go, will I ever learn anything? And is that fair to me? The aunts must have come to the same conclusion, otherwise, why would one of them have given me the key?

It feels impossible to concentrate on anything except the siren call of Aunt Sage’s house. Not only do I want to see what is inside; I’m dying to know what Poppy meant by the house being Sage’s apology to my mother.

My mom is in the other room talking to Drew for what feels like hours, and then she finally turns off her lights around nine p.m. I wait another thirty minutes, then knock lightly on her door and peek inside. She’s asleep, her usual concoction of sleeping supplements set up on her nightstand. Once she’s out, she’s out.

I don’t waste another second.