Turning my attention to my sister beside me, I smile. Her hair is gathered in two small buns on top of her head, and her grin is infectious.
“Is that my t-shirt?” I blurt, staring at the old school campus logo I had from years ago, and she waves me off.
“You weren't wearing it,” she insists, and my grin widens.
I can’t argue with that, and it’s nice to see that I'm near, even when I'm not.
Taking our usual seats feels familiar, and I remind myself of the fact that there were happy memories in this space, at this island, when it was just the three of us. It's whenever my father looms his dark, dirty cloud over us that everything is tarnished.
At the thought of him, my memories drift back to my conversation this morning with Teddy.
“So, what are your plans for the day?” I ask at the same time my sister speaks.
“What brings you here?” Arabella quizzes, and I shake my head.
“Nothing much. I just wanted to see you, and you look adorable, of course. What have you been up to?”
She rolls her eyes at me, silently irritated by the fact that I treat her like she's five still and not fifteen.
“Nothing much,” she offers as my mother clears her throat.
“We were thinking of doing some arts and crafts this afternoon, now that the garden is done,” she explains from her spot by the stove, her collection of teas all out. I don't need to ask for one, and she doesn't look for clarification. We both know the lemon and ginger tea has a way of making me a smidgen less ofan asshole. But it hasn’t hit my lips yet as I frown, returning my gaze to my sister as I recall what day it is.
“What about your guitar lessons?”
The spoon clangs from where she stands as my sister's head dips.
My chest tightens with anticipation as Arabella tilts her head enough to look at me from the corner of her eye, her lips pressed in a thin line.
“Father canceled them,” she mutters, confirming my suspicions, and I rear back, still caught off guard by the truth in the air and the heat in my hand.
“He did what?”
She shrugs as my mother draws closer, whipping the kitchen towel over her shoulder before lacing her fingers together. “He was too busy and needed the detail for himself,” she mumbles, and my sister scoffs.
“He already has enough detail, but that's beside the point. The main issue is that Mom's license was revoked. She?—”
“Wait, what? When?” I interject, and my mother grimaces.
Clearly, I'm not as up to date as I thought I was.
“I was going to tell you,” she starts, leaning against the countertop between us, and I shake my head.
“You don't have to explain yourself. I'm not him. But I am here to help you, Mom. When was the last time you guys left the house?”
The glance between them is answer enough, fueling me with rage as I drag my hand down my face. I don't think I can handle the truth, and I can't change what has already happened. I can only influence what will come.
“Do you want me to take you somewhere right now?” I offer, trying to recall where the nearest ice cream place is, but they both shake their heads.
My sister, however, keeps her gaze dipped, and that's a telling sign.
I turn my full attention to my mom, my eyes narrowing a fraction of an inch, and she exhales.
“If we leave the house, he'll take her with him next time,” she breathes, and my nostrils flare, anger brimming so hot I can't deny it.
“He can't fucking do this,” I snarl, clenching my hands together in my lap, desperately resisting the desire to slam them into the island. All that would do is instill fear in my mother and sister, and that's not what I'm here to do.
He can't isolate them like this. It's psychotic.
