Drop Dead Sisters (The Finch Sisters, #1)

by Amelia Diane Coombs

Which, more or less, was the motto of my childhood. Shit happened and you didn’t die. Best of luck with your trauma and therapy bills.

My knee-jerk instinct as an adult is to not voice my discomfort, to not tell anyone.

Once I get home, then I can have my breakdown. The thought makes me feel better. It’s nice to have things to look forward to.

A few years ago, Eliana wanted to put together this hour-long montage video for Dad’s birthday. Over three decades of birthday parties and Christmas mornings and family vacations, and she tasked Maeve and me with reviewing possible footage. As a professional doormat who doesn’t know how to say no, I agreed to help despite being swamped with work, and I spent an entire weekend watching home videos. The most surprising thing? Eliana seemed like she liked me when I was younger. Maeve was, in typical Maeve fashion, distracted by anything shiny or remotely edible—and considering I was neither, she lost interest quickly—but they were both sweet to me. Eliana encouraged me to walk and played games with me and smooched kisses on my cheek. Maeve dressed me up and stole Mom’s lipstick, smearing my lips bright red. The shift occurred in high school, when Eliana’s interest in me dimmed into disdain and Maeve’s short attention span somehow became even shorter, her little sister the least of her worries.

look, marriage is complicated, but do you know what the death of a marriage is?” “No sex?” Maeve suggests. “No,” Eliana says with an annoyed sigh, “when one partner stops respecting the other.

But I let each and every opportunity pass me by, too intimidated by office politics and pressure and the likelihood of failure.

I’m still that kid, kicking out and gasping for air, lamenting a life that hasn’t happened yet. A life I’m too afraid to make happen.

The older I’ve gotten, the easier it’s become for me to realize that my parents are just . . . people. They’re going through life the first time, just like I am,

“Remi, be yourself,” she says with an annoyed sigh. “You have a weird sense of humor, so own it. If Leo doesn’t find that funny, then it’s on him.”

some men only view you as a plaything. Guy wouldn’t be the only man to treat me this way, but he was the first. And if I have my way, he will be the last.