We had about an hour before the move-in team would arrive, so Dad ushered me inside, encouraging me to find my room. Mom walked through the foyer like she was starring in some real estate show, touching the walls and murmuring things like, “Oh, this molding is to die for.” Who even says stuff like that? But despite her bright smile, I could see the tremble of uncertaintyin her hands as she made her way down the marble-floored hallway. My dad stood next to me, and he pulled me into his side.
“What do you think, bug? Gorgeous, right?”
I nodded mutely and didn’t point out that it felt more like a movie set than it did a home. Our old house had been warm browns and rich blues, the sunlight reaching into every corner of every room through the open windows. A breeze flowing in off the water carried every little trouble away. This was all whites and blacks and emptiness. Which, I suppose, made it just like me.
I ducked away from my father and headed up the winding staircase that looked like someone had pulled it away from Heaven’s gate. It was beautiful, in a cold and holier-than-thou way. The hallway at the top was lined with rooms. I went all the way to the back, then chose the one on the right at random. It was indeed a bedroom, not a bathroom or linen closet. Standing in the doorway, I eyed the emptiness like it had secrets of its own. There was a massive bay window that opened to a private balcony and two doors, one of which was open and showing off a walk-in closet. Neither my clothes nor my furniture were here yet, but I stepped inside and tossed my backpack on the floor, approximately where my bed would go.
I opened the door to the balcony, which overlooked our expansive backyard. There was an outdoor kitchen, which my dad would just love, and a white-stone basin, water rippling in obedient little waves—like the ocean, only housebroken. The faint rippling sound coming off it made me feel just a bit better. I pulled my phone out to take a picture, but stopped. Who would I send it to? All my so-called friends had abandoned me. I had stopped using social media during the trial, and the thought of reopening my old profiles made me feel ill. Like a grave robber. My hands started to tremble, and I clenched my bandaged fistsbefore closing my eyes and forcing myself to take a breath. In, out. Just breathe. What was that thing Elsa had said? Conceal, don’t feel?
I plopped down on the ground and sat staring at the pool for I don’t know how long. A knock on the balcony door had me turning to find my dad, who gave me a smile that didn’t overshadow the sadness in his eyes. “You good, bug?”
I opened my mouth to tell him I was fine, but surprised myself by saying, “I was gonna show my friends the new house. But then I remembered I don’t have any friends. So, that’s great.”
He sighed and slowly lowered himself to the ground, years of bending over a surgery table making him stiff. “You’ll make new friends here. This will be a fresh start for all of us, you’ll see.” He caught sight of the outdoor kitchen and elbowed me before pointing at it. “Oo look! Not a thing in the world that fire-grilled pizza can’t fix!” He grinned at me before taking my hand gently in his. “It’ll be ok, bug. We’re in it together, yeah?” I nodded, and he pulled us both up off the ground.
“Ok, I hate to run, but I have to get over to the hospital—leaving you with your mother. Try not to kill each other, ok?. Moving crew will be here soon.” I gave him a look and he laughed, the sound only mildly forced.
My mother appeared in the doorway of my bedroom and clapped her hands together when she saw us. “Oh, goodie. Found you!” Like we had been hiding or something. Dad walked over, kissing her before disappearing and leaving the two of us alone. Mom looked over at me, her overly bright smile wavering for a minute before she plastered it back on. “I don’t know about you, but I think this place could use a woman’s touch! Want to come shopping?”
I, in fact, most definitely did not want to go shopping with her, but I knew that if I said no, not only would she act like akicked puppy, but I would be stuck here in the way of everyone moving our things.
That’s how I found myself sulking behind her at some place calledRestoration Hardware. A name like that, you would think cute. Thrifted. Charming. Oh, no. Not here. The furniture looked like it had been made by cherubs, blessed by monks, and cost more than most cars. My mom cheerfully introduced herself to the sales associate who had the unfortunate luck of being there that day. When the girl looked at me as my mom droned on about the stress of the move and any other random thought that crossed her mind, I shrugged helplessly.
“Don’t you think this dove gray would look positively lovely in the entryway, Holly? Maybe have someone reupholster those two old chairs that sat in the main hallway?”
The old chairs in question were two blue velvet wingbacks she had bought not even a year ago, but I nodded in agreement whilst staring at a lamp priced at $1,200 and wondered if it granted wishes. Once upon a time, I would’ve loved this. I would’ve bounced along behind my mother, helping her pick out matching candles and begging her to let me design the foyer myself. I used to get excited over seasonal throw pillows and other pretty things. Like my mother, I had been bright and vivid and always smiling. I knew the names of famous designers and thought that mattered. Back when I thought I mattered.
Now, I listened to my mother insist that the sales girl call her Ruth and not Mrs. McCarthy while staying silent. I tried to make myself smaller in my black hoodie and faded skinny jeans, shrinking under the bright lights, frowning at the shiny gold lamp, which seemed to mock my discomfort. My mother pulled me from the depths of my misery, and I turned to her with a frown. “What, Mother?”
She flinched, just barely, at my harsh tone. Ever the dramatic prima donna. But she recovered quickly and held out two grayswaths of color to me. “I was calling your name forever, silly. Which one do you think?” I eyed her, then the cloth she held out before me, and glanced from them to her. Her bright, eager smile made the shining lights all the more overwhelming, and I suddenly wanted to be literally anywhere else but there. “Well?” she pushed, shaking the fabrics like I hadn’t noticed them.
Finally, I snapped, “For the love of God, Mom, does it really freaking matter? They’re gray. They are both gray, Mom. God forbid you put a bit of color in the room. Like, oh, I don’t know—blue? Like the so-called old chairs you literally just bought?”
The sales girl’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs, and my mom’s bottom lip trembled as she dropped her hands like she was holding rocks. I couldn’t find it in me to care. I held out my hand. “Give me the keys, I’ll be in the car.” She handed them to me wordlessly, and I turned without another word. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, a part of me feeling bad for going off on her. But, as I swiped at them angrily, I shoved my feelings down where they belonged.
I didn’t even have to look behind me to know she wasn’t following. Even now, she was oblivious to the way I was falling apart. All the times I had flinched when he adjusted my costume or refused to look him in the eyes, she had cheered the loudest for me. She had been so focused on winning, on being perfect. She never saw it, or maybe she just didn’t want to see. Just like now, she never really looked at me. Never really saw me. I wasn’t about to stand in some overly pretentious store with her and pretend everything was ok. Not anymore.
I was so lost in thought, marching towards the car with my head down, that I didn’t even hear the motorcycles flying through the parking lot. At the last second, I heard the tires squeal on the pavement and jumped to the side. The rider managed to control his bike despite the abrupt stop, and three other bikes pulled up next to his. I let loose a string of Italiancurses I had learned from an exchange student we had hosted a couple of years ago and spun towards the idiot.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I must have missed the part where the parking lot became a racetrack!” I glared at him because it was definitely a him based on the way he filled out his jacket, and I only got angrier when he pulled off his helmet and saw that not only was the ass-hat good looking, but he waslaughing.
“Geez, princess, too busy planning your next party to pay attention?”
Now, usually, I would walk away. The old me would’ve. A flippant toss of hair, rolling eyes, and a decided sway to my hips to make sure he was watching. The new me? The new me had just walked away from picking a fight with her mother and was ready to rip him a new one. “Princess?” I seethed, “Fine. If you want to play the nickname game, I can do that. How about…pool boy? No, that joke may go over your head. Oh, I know! Idiotic man-child with small dick syndrome! Or is that too long for you?” I batted my eyes at him.
For a minute, the four guys across from me just stared. Then one of them, a tall blonde, burst out laughing. “Oh fuck, Jackson. She’s reading you dead to rights.”
Jackson, the idiot in question, glared at his friend. “Shut up, Dalton.” Dalton was not the least bit fazed and made a show of wiping a tear from his eye.
Jackson turned back to me and took a step closer. “What the hell is your deal?”
I scoffed, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe tread marks just don’t go with my aesthetic.” Dalton snorted another laugh, but another glare from Jackson had him quiet.
“Maybe watch where you’re walking? You don’t own the town,princess.” His tone was biting, his gray eyes cold.
I gestured to the pavement. “I was walking in the walkway. What part of thewalkwaydid you not get?” Jackson opened hismouth to say something, but another one of his friends stepped forward. This guy had blue eyes like Dalton’s, and they looked similar enough that they could’ve been brothers, but his hair was dark and he was at least a year or two older.
He put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s go. No harm, no foul.”
