“What is it?”
Mom dabbed her eyes with her napkin.
“I know nobody could ever replace Sarah.”
Claire nodded quietly. “And nobody should.”
Mom reached across the table and covered Claire’s hand.
“But I’m so grateful someone as kind as you is taking care of Paxton and Ari.” She glanced toward me. “I think Sarah would finally be at peace knowing they aren’t alone anymore.”
“And nobody should.”
The room settled into a warm silence.
Then a chair scraped sharply across the floor.
Ari stood.
Her little finger lifted.
It pointed directly at Claire.
“She’s a MONSTER.”
Every sound disappeared.
“She’s a MONSTER.”
My sister slowly lowered her fork.
Dad stared at Ari.
Mom blinked as though she hadn’t heard correctly.
Claire froze with one hand still resting on her coffee cup.
I forced a laugh that sounded painfully hollow.
“Sweetheart…”
Ari didn’t move.
Her finger remained pointed.
Ari didn’t move.
“Why would you call Claire a monster?” I asked.
Ari looked at me with enormous, frightened eyes.
“Because…” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “…when I love Claire… Mommy starts fading.”
The words struck me like ice water.
Nobody spoke.
Ari twisted the edge of her dress.
“Mommy starts fading.”
“When Claire brushes my hair now…” She looked toward Sarah’s photograph on the mantel. “…I can’t remember Mommy doing it.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“When Claire hugs me…” She pressed both hands against her chest. “…I forget what Mommy’s hugs were supposed to feel like.”
Mom quietly covered her mouth.
“I can’t remember Mommy doing it.”
Ari looked at Claire.
“When people say she’s our new mommy now…” Her little lip trembled. “…my real Mommy goes away forever.”
She began crying.
“In stories…” Ari sniffled. “…monsters make people disappear.”
Claire’s eyes filled instantly.
Not because she felt accused.
Because she finally understood.
She began crying.
