My phone lit up on the side table, vibrating twice against the hard wood.

I reached out slowly, my shoulder muscles straining as I picked up the heavy phone.

A missed call popped up on the screen, followed right away by a long voicemail notification from my mother’s cell.

I pressed the speaker button and held the warm glass three inches from my ear.

“Claire, this is completely ridiculous,” my mother’s voice boomed into the dark room, stripped of any warmth.

“Melissa is crying, and you’re refusing to support her over absolutely nothing,” she said.