I handed her my phone. Explained the texts. That I’d been getting them since the funeral. Whenever they mentioned Dad she recoiled, but just subtly enough that maybe she thought I wouldn’t notice. ‘I think maybe this might be to do with Dad, OK, and I think we should go to the police and tell them about what’s been happening and then maybe they can do something –’

‘Sweetie.’ She set my phone on the kitchen island, put her hands gently on my biceps, then moved one to my face. ‘We’re not doing that. You know we’re not doing that.’

‘What do you mean? It’s all here, Mom. They have to do something.’

‘They don’t.’ She moved away, obviously thin even in her baggy sweatpants, and lowered herself back to the table; she’d already checked out. ‘They don’t, because there’s nothing to do.’

‘Mom, read them again. Read the texts. This person sounds like … they sound like they could have done someone harm.’

‘I’ll call your school to tell them, but that’s all.’

‘No, don’t. I’d rather you not do anything than call the school. But the school won’t know anything, because it doesn’t have to do with the school, Mom.’

‘Sweetie, it’s just … people have been picking on you for years.’

This stung, but I wouldn’t show her. ‘Not like this. You know it. Not like this.’

‘I think you’re seeing things that aren’t there.’

‘I want to go to the police.’

‘I said no, Sydney. There’s been enough buzz around this house recently, and I – I don’t have the time. I absolutely do not have time.’

I scoffed. ‘You don’t have time? How can you say that?’

The paper she held creased beneath her grip.

‘How can you even say that, Mom? People are saying these things to me and you don’t have time? Someone is, is stalking me, and you don’t have time? Someone might have killed Dad and you don’t have –’

‘No.’ She said it so loudly I swore it echoed.

I stopped.

‘No.’ She scooted out from the table again and looked me dead in my eyes; she looked somewhere far away. ‘You cannot keep saying that. Stop it. Sometimes these things happen and there’s nothing we can do and there’s not always somebody to blame. Thinking there is … it’s making it impossible for both of us to heal. Do you understand? Nobody – nobody did anything to Daddy.’

‘Mom.’

‘Nobody. You stop it.’ She gathered the papers, straightened them against the table with a sharp thwack, and went to leave. ‘The support group meets next week. It might be a little short notice but I’m going to make sure I get you in.’

I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. No, not exactly that – a brick wall that hated me. ‘Mom –’