Another Piece of My Heart Read Free Page A

the stairs with her arms crossed. “It’s disgusting. I’ve never heard of a child speaking to a parent like that.”
    “What am I supposed to do?” His voice rose in anger. “You’re always telling me how to deal with my child, but you have no idea what it’s like.”
    There was an icy silence.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Andi asked slowly. Her voice was cold.
    “Nothing.” He shook his head, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean anything. I just mean I don’t know what else to do.”
    “You did the right thing,” Andi said eventually, breathing through her anger, for she knew what he meant: she wasn’t a mother. She couldn’t understand. “You took the car away for a week. Now you have to stick to it.”
    Ethan nodded. “I know.”
    “Really,” Andi warned. “When she comes to you tomorrow, crying and saying how sorry she is and she’ll never do it again, you can’t do what you did last time, you can’t give her the car back.”
    Ethan looks up at her sharply. “Last time? I’ve never done this before.”
    “No, but last time she was drunk you told her she couldn’t go to Michaela’s party, and when she apologized, you said she could.”
    Ethan sighed. “I’m trying,” he said eventually. “I’m just doing the best I can.”
    The latest transgression resulted in a curfew being imposed. Midnight. This is for two weeks. Starting three days ago.
    *   *   *
    Some of the time, when Andi wakes up drenched, she changes and goes straight back to sleep. Tonight is not one of those nights. Back in bed she tosses and turns before sighing deeply and reaching over to click on the bedside light.
    Next to her, Ethan moans slightly and rolls over to face away from the light, but he doesn’t wake up. Damn. Her book is downstairs.
    Reluctantly—sleep is no longer an option, and what else will she do—she climbs out of bed again, padding out of the bedroom to go downstairs.
    The woven wool carpet is warm and comfortable, and she braces herself for the cool wood floors of the hallway, making yet another mental note to buy some slippers.
    At the far end of the hallway, Andi notices a light coming from Emily’s bedroom. Strange. Surely she should have been asleep by now. Perhaps she has fallen asleep with the light on. Andi moves down the hallway and gently pushes open the door, shaking her head in dismay as she surveys the chaos.
    Crumpled clothes are strewn all over the floor. A pyramid of makeup, with a fine dusting of face powder covering the carpet, lies by the mirror. The comforter on the bed is scrunched up, and it is hard to tell whether there is anyone in it until Andi, gingerly stepping over odd shoes, bowls half-filled with days-old encrusted food, draws closer.
    The bed is empty. Emily is nowhere to be seen.

Two
    As if on cue, downstairs, the sliding door to the yard creaks open, and there are slow, uneven footsteps. Emily. Home.
    Andi freezes. With her own children, she knows she would go straight down and confront, but this is not her own child, and she isn’t sure that, at four thirty in the morning, she is ready to take on the tantrum that will undoubtedly ensue.
    If she does go down, Emily will beg her not to tell her father, but how can Andi not tell him? He has to know. This is not okay, and she cannot withhold it from him, not least because she is worried for Emily, terrified that her life is spinning out of control, and the only person who may be able to stop it is her father.
    Through the balusters, Andi sees Emily weave through the hallway, a smile on her face. Andi tiptoes back to her bedroom, pulling the door until there is just a crack, and watches as Emily trips up the stairs, recognizing the smell as soon as Emily drifts past the door.
    This time, she is stoned.
    Again.
    *   *   *
    This isn’t within Andi’s frame of reference. She wasn’t a kid who did such things. Perhaps if she had been, she wouldn’t be so discombobulated by Emily’s