“After I left, there was this space between me and the rest of the family that had never been there before. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we were always texting and calling, and Addie and Maggie came to stay with me for weekends and stuff. But it was like my world had expanded and theirs…”

She inhaled and shrugged, holding the smoke until her throat stung, then exhaling. She wished the issue would dissipate as easily as the cloud of smoke.

“I mean, I love them. They’ve been a huge support system for me. Always been there. If I was in trouble, I could call them at any time of day or night and they’d help me. It’s just a lot. To feel so…tethered? Surveilled? In college, I started keeping a journal again for the first time in years because before, I’d always known one of my sisters could find it and read it.”

She’d stopped when she moved back to Owl Island, though. Even living by herself, she didn’t feel comfortable having a journal around. Her family came over so often, and everyone had a key, that she didn’t trust it.

“Gah, please make me stop talking.” Greta buried her face in the pillow for a moment, then sat up.

“I can’t even imagine.”

“What? Your family’s not codependent and nosy?” Greta tried to laugh it off.

Carys spoke through a mouth of smoke. “Nope. It’s me and my mom, mostly. Her parents live about an hour away, but I don’t see them that much.”

When Greta was little, one of the secret fantasies she indulged in was being an only child. Having time with just her mom or just her dad, with no interruptions.

“Do you and your mom hang out a lot?”

“No. I don’t fuck with her if I can help it. Do you mind?” Carys stood and gestured at her clothes. “It’s bra off o’clock.”

“’S fine.”

Greta tried to appear as though her whole attention was on the lighter she held, but she couldn’t help glance up as Carys stripped off her bra by pulling it through her sleeve. Her breasts fell heavy and soft, and Greta imagined pillowing her head between them as Carys stroked her hair.

“My mom had me when she was sixteen,” Carys went on. “We lived with my grandparents till I was five, then moved out. My mother is…” Greta could practically see her entertaining and then discarding words. “She’s very difficult for me to be around, so I try not to be.”

Greta passed the pipe back to Carys when she sat on the bed again. Carys lay on her back, took a drag, and held it so long, Greta wondered if she’d swallowed it. When Carys finally exhaled, she closed her eyes.