9 a.m.
Ashley
"Marie you gotta get up," I said to my sister that morning going into her room.
"I'm tired," she replied.
"You're tired because you've been out all night prostituting."
"I have nothing to do today Ashley."
"Not true you have a therapy session with pam."
"We don't talk."
"You don't talk because you won't talk. Not because she doesn't try."
"I wish mom were here."
"Well she's not."
"Not Karen. My mom."
Oh.
"Oh. Well she's not she's…." I began.
"Yeah I know. Dead."
"C'mon I'll make breakfast."
"I don't want breakfast."
"Well I'm making it anyway whether you want it or not."
"I've been too depressed to prostitute."
This surprised me.
"Yeah and apparently you've been too depressed to talk."
"It's not easy," she said.
"It's not easy for any of us this isn't news."
"You…haven't been doing that?" I asked.
"No."
"Oh. Wow. Well. Then what do you do all night?"
"I got to Lola's."
"Lola's the café/bar?"
"No my friend. Lola's."
"Oh."
A few weeks ago we'd moved from our place into Pam's when she'd moved into ours.
Marie had become a ghost in our own house. Well not our house pams house. But she didn't moan. Maybe if she were out making money having sex shed be moaning. She barely ate. Sat around cried slept. Sometimes shed come down for breakfast dinner. But she didn't eat. I didn't know where she was when she wasn't at home but I assumed downtown. She seemed really depressed.