There’s no shock this time, no panic or denial. And there are no tears. It still doesn’t feel right, to set aside the guilt I used to stitch my soul back together. But Sam reminds me my burden will still be there tomorrow. I won’t lose it. Now is the time to rest.
I sleep.
* * *
Getting off the elevator at work the next day, I’m reluctantly acknowledging the spring Sam has put back into my step when I hear a gruff voice behind me.
“Tristan.”
I freeze, gaze fixed on my office door at the end of the hall.So close.Schooling my features into a blank expression, I face my father. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” He scrutinises every inch of me as he approaches. He’ll find nothing out of place. My suit is as impeccably tailored as his. My shoes as shiny, my hair as neat. “I saw you walking from the bus stop.” He falls silent, awaiting my explanation.
“I had some car trouble.” Of the almost-careening-headfirst-into-a-pole kind. “It’s with a mechanic.”
“I see.” His jaw clenches as he bites down on the words, checking their authenticity. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”
“No. Although it might take a while to get it back. Depending on how long it takes to get the part they need.” The lies roll off my tongue with an ease that comes from years of dedicated practice.
He seems mollified and I start to breathe again. “Let me know if you need something to get around in,” he says. “You could always borrow your mother’s car.”
My head snaps up. “Isn’t she using it?” If she’s not using her car it means she’s not going out. If she’s stopped leaving the house again—
“She’s fine, Tristan.” Hard and heavy, the words break through my rush of conclusions. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, though,” he continues in a softer tone. “It would only be a few days.”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”
An awkward silence falls between us. It lasts an awkward amount of time.
“I should start work,” I say, taking the first step backwards. “Busy day ahead.” I manage another two steps before he says my name again. Stopping, I force myself to meet his gaze.
“You’re taking care of yourself?” From the outside, the question would seem natural. A father’s concern for his son. But my father and I, we know differently. This isn’t a question. It’s a reminder—of promises made and the debt I owe.
“Yes.”
He stares at me for a long moment. I stare back, every muscle locked in place to ensure I’m not betrayed by a twitch or a tremble. Finally, he breaks the stalemate with a sharp nod. “Good.” His gaze lowers as he turns towards his office. “Have a good day.”
Long strides take me in the opposite direction. I barely refrain from slamming my office door as it closes behind me.
This is bad. If I don’t start driving again soon, my father’s going to ask more questions and there are only so many lies I can tell before he realises something else is going on. It’s taken years to convince my parents I’m finally living the life they’ve assigned me. Drawing too much attention will risk damaging the veneer I’ve worked so hard to build. If the truth is revealed, we all fracture.
I need to learn whatever spell Sam Stephenson uses to put me to sleep at night, and then figure out how to make it work for me—indefinitely.
* * *
George brought theSleep with Meapp to my attention, but his wife, Alice, is the one going to the classes. She’s got the real goods on Sam.
Alice works for a different company in the same office hub. She and George have a standing date for lunch at a nearby cafe every Thursday. It’s simple enough for me to happen upon them and wrangle an invitation.
“Of course you can join us.” Alice beams as I drag a chair to their table. “It’s burgers between meetings, not candlelight and wine. Right, George?”
“Hmph.” George eyes me suspiciously as he offers a menu.
Waving it away, I settle for ordering a takeaway coffee and muffin from the counter. I only plan to stay long enough to get the information I need. There’s no point in ruining their whole lunch.
Dragging out every ounce of patience I possess, I spend a few minutes catching up with Alice before attempting a segue to my true agenda. “George tells me you’re going to meditation classes,” I say as our orders are delivered. “How are they going?”
“It’s wonderful. I was getting so stressed out with work and life.” She waves messy hands about her head. “Meditation has helped turn all the noise down.”
