It felt like she was trying to tell me something other than what she said out loud. My stomach was still threatening me–

Not anymore.

I threw up on the dining room floor. While it was nice that I felt major relief from my nausea, I was heavily upset I couldn’t make it to the sink or bathroom to toss my cookies.

“Jesus Christ! Are you good?” She made a mad dash for the bleach and some towels.

“Actually. I’m a lot better now.” My eyes were out of focus, but I excused myself to take a long hot shower to try to feel something.

I towel dried my hair and padded out into the living room after trying to burn myself back into reality where Kelly was watching a movie–well, texting while a movie was on. “You know what I need right now?”

“What?”

“To cash in on a promise that I think you’ll also enjoy.”

Did I want to call Brent? No. Did I want to see Brent? Also no.

But I did–I picked up the phone and dialed.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Hello?” He sounded surprised I called him so soon.

“So...I need to cash in on that delivery promise right now.”

Grunting came from the other line. “Like, right now?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Blondie. I’ll be over in...an hour. Tops. See you soon.” Click.

Kelly pursed her lips, wondering what the hell I was doing. “Delivery promise?”

I laid myself out onto the couch. “Food.” After everything that happened, throwing up in the kitchen, and my mental breakdown in the shower, I needed proper food. It was the least I could do for myself.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, babe. I’ve always been curious about you not sharing much about your mom’s business, but then I realized that you weren’t told the same things that we were as kids. Your mom was a great woman, but she did you a disservice by not telling you that you’re one of the richest girls in the country. And when she passed, I don’t know all that you went through at your aunt’s house. I just wanted to be there for you as a friend.”

There were certain demons I never wanted to talk about with other people. Aunt Sylvia was one of them. The abuse, the occasional drunken beating, the constant projection of jealousy toward my mom were her shitty coping mechanisms for not being successful like her sister. No one but myself was included in my mother’s legacy.

My mother hated her family from what I gathered. She never talked about them much, but I got the gist that she wasn’t treated well. With her success, her five siblings attempted to come around and cozy up to her when she became the family’s golden child instead of the black sheep.

She turned them all down.