Her closet was almost empty.
Bare hangers swung slightly beneath the air vent.
Several drawers were open.
Her backpack was gone.
So were most of her shoes.
My heart started racing.
Then I heard movement from the kitchen.
I ran toward it.
Kevin was sitting at the counter spreading butter across a piece of sourdough bread.
Calmly.
As if it were any ordinary afternoon.
“Where’s Sarah?”
He didn’t look up.
“She left.”
“What?”
“She left.”
“Where?”
He finally sighed.
“I told her to go.”
My suitcase slipped from my hand and crashed onto the tile.
“You did WHAT?”
“She’s eighteen.”
I stared at him.
“Where is my daughter?”
“How would I know?”
I grabbed the edge of the counter because my legs suddenly felt weak.
“What happened?”
“I got tired of it, Maureen. The attitude. The disrespect. Sitting around here eating our food while I pay for everything.”
“She’s finishing high school!”
“She’s legally an adult.”
“She’s my daughter!”
Kevin finally looked at me.
“And this is my house.”
His voice was frighteningly calm.
“Remember that before you start breaking things.”
Something inside me snapped.
