My mind blank and my limbs heavy, I stumble to the bathroom, Trips rushing out to help me in, hands hovering around my person like he has no right to touch me.
He doesn’t.
But it doesn’t mean I wish he wouldn’t.
Closing the door behind him, leaving me in the beautiful bathroom by myself, a pile of blood-stained towels in a heap on the counter, the cleanest one sitting beside the tub, I unzip myself from the mystery coat, two towels falling to the floor. One from my neck and one from somewhere on my body. Forcing my hands to shimmy off my shapewear, I wonder about the parts of the night I’m missing.
Did Trips cut me free? Did that woman? Mary. She said her name was Mary. How do they know how to treat hypothermia?I didn’t even realize that brain damage was a thing that could happen. I mean, it makes sense. But I’ve never thought about it.
The water sears, and I let it. Cold settled into my bones overnight, like summer will never kiss my skin again. The tears still leak from my eyes, like some kind of broken faucet, but they’re lazy tears. Exhausted tears. Empty tears.
I’ll make it through today. Through the second half of the torture of a Westerhouse family event. Tonight, I’ll lie in a pile of limbs, surrounded by warmth and love. And we’ll figure it out. Probably not today. Maybe not this week, or even this month. But there must be a way out.
A trick. A scheme. A possibility.
For myself. For Trips. For all of us.
Chapter 5
Clara
Getting ready for breakfast is a new torture. My fingers regained some of their dexterity after my bath, but one glance at my makeup kit and I know I’ll look like a clown if I try. Trips watches this, then sends a voice message. Three minutes later, Mattie’s throwing herself at me, her eyes glassy.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispers, somehow knowing that we’re staying quiet in here.
Looking over her shoulder, I meet Trips’ eye. His nostrils flare, and he picks up the puffer I found myself in. “I owe you a new coat, Sparkles,” he says, the blood-streaked parka like a dead animal in his hands.
“Whatever. Do you need help getting ready?”
I hold up my swollen hands. “I’m alive, but my hands haven’t gotten the memo yet.”
Mattie blinks fast, then looks over her shoulders at Trips. “You have secrets to share, middle-est brother mine. You spill, I’ll do Clara’s makeup and hair.”
She has me sit on the counter and gets to work, Trips leaning against the door jamb, the position so painfully ordinary my breath catches in my chest. Even if he’s wearing dark gray slacks and a pale blue sweater, something fancier than he’d ever wear at home, his posture aches in its normality.
But things aren’t normal. They’re anything but.
“I was fifteen,” Trips says, staring at the tape across his knuckles, tugging at the end of the wrapping. “I’d just gotten big enough to fight back.”
He doesn’t clarify. He doesn’t need to. Mattie and I wear matching masks of indifference, wanting the story without losing Trips.
“I thought I was invincible. I thought I was finally free. But it turns out that a backhand was just the easiest way to control me. Convenient. Always on hand. Pun intended, as Father would say. So, one night, I stayed out with friends. Just lived. No curfew. No rules. No consequences. Or so I thought.”
Mattie has me blot my lips, her mouth pressed in a thin line.
“When I got back, all the doors were locked. I couldn’t get into the garage. Into the house. The pool house. The boathouse. Everyone had been instructed to ignore me. To pretend I wasn’t there. The windows were locked, too. I yelled. I pounded on door after door, window after window, but nothing happened. Walking down to the cottage felt like overstepping, but I was freezing. And even there, no one would let me in.”
Mattie leaves the room, coming back with the chair and motioning me to sit in it sideways so she can do my hair. Trips waits until we’re settled to continue with his story.
“I was only wearing a sweatshirt. It was February. Brutal wind. And with every try at getting inside, I got colder and colder. Ireached out to my friends, hoping someone could come get me, but they were all already asleep. I didn’t hear from them until the next morning. Mary found me on the step of the back door. You know how she used to work at that resort up north? She’d had to deal with hypothermia cases, keeping people stable until the ambulance could get to them. So she knew what to do. And we both knew not to go to the hospital. Father was smug for the rest of the week. I didn’t push him again after that, at least for a while. I was lucky I didn’t die. Honestly, he’d probably have been happy to be rid of me.”
Mattie yanks out last night’s pins from my hair and they catch on my curls. “Father was always the worst to you. Trevor too, but always you. I don’t understand why I’ve been fine.”
“I think your mom has something on him. She was nice to me in the beginning. But then she withdrew after she had you. Both of you have been a lot safer than I was. Than my mom or Trevor were.”
Mattie sighs. “I figured it was something like that. But you don’t think it will hold until I’m an adult, do you?”
“Has he had you join him for any of his business meetings?”
