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—Holly—
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I woke the next morning salty as fuck, not to mention depressed and not wanting to leave my bed. Today I should have been going to the Bears’ game with Elio and his family and finishing the VIP experience I’d planned for him.
He was to pig out on game food and hang in the dugout before the game, then throw the opening pitch. Imagining the excitement on his sweet little face brought stinging tears to my eyes and crushing disappointment to my chest.
While his parents had no doubt heard of the scandal, I hoped with my entire soul that Elio remained blissfully unaware of the real reason I couldn’t attend the game today.
A murmured conversation downstairs caught my attention, and I held my breath to listen a little harder. Mom. And while hushed, her and Dad were unable to keep their argument under wraps.
I groaned and rolled from bed, then picked my way downstairs with bleary eyes and a fuzzy head.
The air in the kitchen was tense and thick when I shuffled in. While Dad continued to glower, Mom flicked her invisible switch.
“Holly,” she cooed, coming at me with open arms and a caring expression. “How are you, honey?”
“Good,” I said quietly as we exchanged a mechanical hug.
Mom then held me at arm’s length and pouted as she looked me over. “I cut my girls’ week short for you. I was expecting an utter mess, but you’re looking perkier than expected.”
I steeled my emotions against the attempt to make me feel bad for pulling her from her vacation. “You didn’t need to cut it short for me.”
She scoffed and waved me off with a manicured hand. “Your father practically begged me to come home.”
“I did not,” Dad boomed from behind her, making her flinch dramatically.
Had I not been wise to her manipulation, I would have thought she was scared of him.
Mom rolled her dark-brown eyes and shot over her shoulder, “I read between the lines, Russell.”
“No, you skim-read then jumped to your own assumptions. I had a handle on things, Isabelle.”
“A girl needs her mother.”
Dad’s lip curled in aggravation. “Isab—”
I cut him off before an all-out argument erupted. “I’m just gonna grab breakfast and eat outside.”
The kitchen brought solace until Mom hissed, “Now look what you’ve done.”
Dad’s tone bit back. “I haven’t done shit.”
Yogurt cup in-hand, I shot them a quick sideways glance as I rushed through the kitchen onto the outdoor deck. As I pulled the sliding door closed behind me, Mom and Dad shifted out of sight into the living room.
My reprieve was short-lived—I forgot a damn spoon!
Checking inside to ensure my parents were still out of view, I tiptoed back into the kitchen. Two steps in, ice filled my veins, and I froze.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” came Dad’s accusation.
Mom scoffed. “And what’s that?”
“Play the good guy and twist shit. Why don’t we tell her the real reason you came home early, huh?”
My toes flexed on the cool tiles under my feet and my fingers clamped around the yogurt cup. Confusion over Dad’s comment had my mind running a thousand miles an hour and jumping to what I hoped were false conclusions.
“You’re just trying to break up our family,” Mom snapped.
The anger in Dad’s tone was as plain as day. “You’re literally doing that all by yourself. I know why you were in Palm Springs. You’re a liar and a—”
A loud crack of a strike against skin turned my body cold. I moved without thought and arrived at the threshold to the living room to find Mom’s hand still raised and locked in Dad’s vise grip. The air pulled tighter with every fury-laced breath, and Dad’s fingers clamped harder on Mom’s wrist as he growled, “Don’t you ever strike me again.”
The forgotten yogurt cup fell from my grasp and landed on the floorboards with a muted thud.
Two pairs of stricken eyes cut my way, and Dad’s hold on Mom’s wrist immediately recoiled.
Mom’s expression morphed from anger to alarm in a blink. “Holly, how long have you been there?”
It took a second for the shock to wear off. “Long enough,” I whispered. I darted a nervous glance at both parents before settling on Mom.
“It’s not what you think,” she urged.
Behind her, Dad cursed, turned away, and gripped the back of his neck.
So it was true then. No wonder my family felt as if it had barely been held together in recent years. It was visibly falling apart in front of my eyes.
“What have you been lying about?” I asked, sidestepping Mom’s attempt to hug me.
“Nothing, I swear.”
Heat rose up my neck, climbing higher as further questions spilled. “What were you really doing in Palm Springs?”
Mom grew irritated. “Keep your nose out of it.”
As if my world hadn’t imploded enough in the last week, this veiled chaos compounded the pressure in my chest. Growing anger unfurled in my belly. I didn’t know where to look. Whose eyes to meet. If I should leave or stay...
“That came out wrong,” Mom added, tone now desperate. “Nothing has been going on.”
Outraged, Dad whirled behind her though stayed silent.
“You’re lying,” I stated, my voice hollow and void of emotion.
“Hol—”
“Stop lying, Mom!”
“I’m not!”
One look at Dad and my heart broke. I saw the tears shimmering in his eyes right before he hung his head. His fists balled at his waist, and he sniffed hard, visibly trying to pull himself together. Seeing him so broken cut me deeper than my own scandal.
Resentment had my eyes cutting back to Mom. “I don’t believe you.”
Her indignation left a sour taste in my mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous, Holly.”
She came at me again, but I snapped my hands up. “Don’t touch me.”
“Let’s sit down and talk about this. Russell, say something,” she added as if he would be on her side.
His sorrow-filled focus lifted to find me, then Mom. “I need you to leave.”
“What?” she screeched. “Say something to Holly, not me.”
Poor Dad. His gaze connected with mine as he crossed the room. His soft voice strummed my heartstrings so hard, tears threatened along my lower lash line.
“I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in this, Bunny. Go back upstairs and I’ll come up soon.”
I nodded, rallying to come to terms with yet another unexpected shift in my world. I backed away, feeling caged and incredibly alone. As I neared the base of the stairs, I shot Dad one last glance before spinning and running to my room.
Mom, unable to stand not being the center of attention, reinitiated their argument. “I’m not moving out, Russell!”
While muted, their voices were clear enough through my closed bedroom door.
“You are until I figure out a way forward. Right now, Holly needs my time and energy.”
“But I’m your wife!” Mom screamed.
“And Holly is my blood,” he countered, with ice in his tone like I’d never heard before.
I dared not breathe as the long seconds drew out. Gut churning and throat aching, I stopped eavesdropping and set about getting ready for the day despite it being trash from the get-go.
~
Dressed in a pair of faded gray track pants, sneakers, and one of my old, oversized college hoodies, I shoved a pair of sunglasses on my face and grabbed my phone, then made my way down into the danger zone.
Mom sat sobbing on the couch but snapped to her feet as soon as she saw me. “Holly, wait—”
I picked up the pace. “I’m going out.”
Her eyes skipped over my appearance. “Dressed like that?”
My entire body bristled while trying not to react to the judgment. “Not that it matters, but yes.”
“For how long? Can we talk about this?”
“No.” I eyed the front door. “And I don’t know when I’ll be back. Where’s Dad?”
She latched onto my arm, fingers biting. “I don’t know. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone at the moment.”
“I’ve got my own shit to deal with, Mom.”
A beat of confusion crinkled her face when I tugged away, then realization seemed to dawn that she wasn’t the only one with their life in disarray.
“We can hang out together. Talk things through.”
I backed toward the door. “I’d rather not. I need to be alone.”
“Holly, please.”
Despite my heart wanting so badly to cave and comfort her, my head willed me to stay strong. “No, Mom. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
With that last assertive statement, I rushed from the house. Anger and hurt and confusion pulled at me all at once, and I couldn’t shake the oppressive numbness deep within.
My shoulders slumped under the emotional pressure as tears slid out from under my sunglasses. I leaned against the weatherboard exterior of our family home and pressed a hand to my constricted chest.
Each shallow breath threatened to give way to a panic attack. I fought to loosen the invisible belt around my lungs for minutes before I managed to regain control.
Once I had, I descended the front steps that held so many happy childhood memories, knowing it would never be the same again.
