Mercifully, the house has been more peaceful these last couple of days.
My brother says Adam left for New York the morning after our little run-in by the stairs. Whateverthatwas, it still has me rattled.
At least I can roam the place now without checking every room before I step in, or constantly listening for his footsteps.
With the tension dialed down, I finally try to catch up on work. Sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed, I open my laptop. And immediately regret it.
The red notification bubble stands out like a sore spot.
750 unread emails.
My reflex is to slam the lid shut, to make the mountain of tasks… disappear. This is what I wanted, though. Some work to keep me busy. Proof I still have a life outside this house. I take a deep breath and open it again.
An hour later, my eyes blur and I’ve only gone through a quarter of the emails. I escape downstairs to stretch my legs and breathe some fresh air. When I step onto the back porch, the armchairs are empty.
I’ve gotten used to seeing Adam there, book in hand. We usually pretend not to notice each other while I sip the extra cup of tea he always brings out.
It’s alright. I can make my own tea.
I turn on my heel, ready to march into the kitchen, but stop short. What blend did he use again? It was just what I needed in the morning.
Coffee it is then. The machine at least does everything by itself. I just need to press a button.
With a fresh mug in hand, I return outside and sit at the low table overlooking the lake. The water is calm today, sunlight skating across the surface.
Two sips in, I feel like something’s missing.
Maybe it’s the lack of barbed commentary from behind the book? Or maybe I just chose the wrong type of coffee. That must be it.
There’s not much else to do. Will and Blanca left yesterday, so no more sightseeing with them. Carter is off somewhere, forgetting he should be keeping me in the loop, while his fiancée’s gone to check on a project site. At least she’ll be back later today.
And Adam…Well, I don’t care about him, obviously. I’m definitely not missing him.
In the afternoon, I go for a walk and decide to check up on Blanca. By this hour, she should be done with the mandatory Sunday family lunch.
I make my way along the shoreline, nudging pebbles into the water until she finally picks up.
“Miss me already?” She chirps on the other end.
“You know I do,’ I say, picking up a small piece of driftwood. “How was it this time?”
“Eh. You know.”
Yes, I do. At first, I didn’t get it, I was too young. They just looked sterner than the other parents. Then, as we grew up and went through school together, I watched her cry in bathrooms and back seats more times than I can count.
I’d take my father treating me like an afterthought over Blanca’s dad’s type of parenting any day. He’s a mean, despicable man. And his wife is just…there. Mirroring her husband in the way she presents herself. But more disturbingly, in the way she treats Blanca.
“Want me to send some anonymous bomb threats your way?” I offer, only half-jokingly. “You’d have an excuse to hide out here with me then.”
“No offense, babe,” she says dryly. “I’d rather sit through two hours of my parents nitpicking every aspect of my life than live there. Even temporarily.”
I’ve always suspected Blanca’s hunt for a husband has more to do with wanting to escape her father’s clutches than anything else.
She’d never admit it, though.
“Your loss,” I tease. “I’d even let you show me this year’s potential husband catalog.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I can picture her giving me a look. “Laugh it up, but that’s how you get a good match. We can’t end up with some pauper. Looks aren’t everything.”
