James takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to make calls, taking charge since my dad isn’t in any shape to be doing it.
“Dad? Why? Why did this happen?” Was it the mysterious sickness that’s been plaguing her that finally killed her? Did her hitting her head cause her to die?
Dad wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “I don’t know, Kenz. I don’t know.”
Men come and get mom, taking her to the hospital Dad approves of. He donates to this particular hospital, so they look the other way when his men come in with questionable wounds. James calls someone to clean up the kitchen and get evidence. I’m not sure what that means, but from the fragmented conversation he and my father have, it seems they think someone killed her.
But who? Everyone loves mom. All of dad’s men love her, even some of dad’s enemies love her. Loved. Another sob escapes at the thought of never getting to bake with her again. Never getting to brush her hair or her brushing mine. She wasn’t just my mom; she was my best friend. She accepted me and always promised one day I would meet someone that would love me as much as dad loves her.
I squeeze my eyes shut until we pull up at the house. The kitchen is clean, but I can’t bear to go in there. Not now. I wish I had a library to go to and read, get lost in another world, so I didn’t have to deal with all the emotions flowing through me. I’ve asked dad since I was little if he’d build me a library, turn one of the rooms that looks like a museum into a library, but he always says no.
He wants his house to look and feel a certain way. Unfortunately, it feels like something you look at, not live in. When I grow up, my house is going to be beautiful and comfortable. I’ll show him you can have both. I go to my room instead, the only place in this house that’s comfortable. My mom told him I could decorate it however I wanted, and I did.
I don’t leave my room for weeks, unable to bear the thought of not seeing my mom. If I pretend like it didn’t happen, then maybe I’ll survive this. I miss the smell of her tea brewing and the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking. Then eating them together and me telling her how gross it is that she dunks her cookies in her tea instead of milk.
I finally decide to venture out of my room. I haven’t seen my dad since the day we came home. James said he’s tearing the city apart trying to find out what happened to my mom. But he’s been pretty absent even before mom died. He was always going to these parties that he wouldn’t tell me anything about. He always said they were business related. Maybe if he had been home more, mom would have never died.
The autopsy should be back soon, so hopefully we’ll know what it was that killed her. Walking down stairs the emptiness of the house resembles the emptiness I feel inside my chest.
There’s this gaping hole where my heart used to be. Walking into the kitchen, I stand in the doorway, my lips pressing into a thin line. I try to imagine my mom’s laughter, but it doesn’t come. Walking to the cabinet, she keeps her tea. I pull it down, fill the kettle with water, and put it on the stove.
I want to bake cookies, but I don’t think my heart can take that. Not today. When the kettle whistles, I pull it off the stove, place the tea in the ball infuser, put it in the teacup, and pour the hot water over the tea. I never liked tea. I tried, but never acquired a taste for it. I stare out the window as the tea steeps. I wonder if I’ll see my father today.
We’ve barely spoken since the day it happened. I wonder how we’ll be able to survive now. I was always closer to my mom, but my dad and I had a decent relationship until recently. He always made me feel special in his own way, but where is he now? When I need him the most. I walk back to where the tea is steeping, the smell already drifting toward me.
I grab the cup and let the warmth spread to my cold hands. I lift it, so I can smell the tea, debating on tasting it. Before I can bring it to my nose, dad runs into the kitchen, his eyes widen when he sees me. I don’t comprehend how he’s running toward me. His hand raises and I flinch, thinking he’s about to hit me, but he slaps the teacup out of my hand.
Tears begin to stream down my face. Why would he do that? What is wrong with him? He grabs my shoulders, his face inches from mine. “Did you drink any of your mom’s tea?” He shakes my shoulders, demanding an answer.
“No, daddy! I swear.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest. “Thank god.” He rubs his hand over my head and down my hair. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He lets me break, my tears soaking the front of his shirt.
I sit on the couch, my dad sitting next to me. “She was poisoned. That’s what killed her. Since she was found with tea, I’m assuming it was the tea. I’m going to send it to get tested to make sure.”
“She was poisoned?” I feel numb. I’ve been through every emotion there is over the past several weeks, and now I’m just numb. “Is that why she’s been so sick? Who would poison her?”
Dad runs his hand through his hair and exhales. “Yes. I have an idea of who it could be, but…” He shares a look with James, his main security guy. James’ lips are tight and the creases on his forehead look like deep ruts from how hard he’s squinting at my father.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he says, devastation in his eyes. He blames himself. Why?
“What’s going on? Who do you think it was?” I ask.
“Honey, I think it’s best if I don’t tell you everything.”
My mouth pops open, and I stand. “Why? I can handle it. I have to do something. If I can help, please let me help.”
He and James share a look and my father sighs. “The less you know, the better, but I do need you to go to Brighton Academy.”
I stare at him in confusion. I remember him and my mother talking about that once and she told him he was to never send me there. “Mom said she didn’t want me going there.”
He rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “I know, honey. But I need you to go. It will help catch the person who killed your mother. If I’m unable to find them, then one day you’ll go to one of the parties with me.”
“What does going to Brighton have to do with the parties?” I ask.
He shares a look with James again and takes a deep breath. “Just trust me. Okay?” I nod and he leans forward, hugging me tightly. “I promise I’ll always protect you.” He pulls back and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “When you get there, find Phoenix Stone. Stay as close to him as you can, okay?”
I squint my eyes, trying to think if I’ve ever heard that name before. “Have I met him before?” I ask.
