Page 3 of Fracture

“Hey girl, how’re the jailbirds?” Zee’s voice is bright and in stark contrast to how I’m feeling right now.

I turn to look out the kitchen window towards the garage. The lights are on, and bass thumps faintly through the evening breeze. “They’re good. I think?”

“You think?”

“They’ve been out in the garage since they got back.” I scrunch up my nose. “That’s bad, right?”

“Why would it be bad?”

“That they… I don’t know.” I twirl my hair around my fingers, tapping my foot against the ground. “I keep thinking I should go out there, but maybe they don’t want me there? Do you think? Was it wrong to bring them here?”

Zee lets out an exasperated sigh that whispers across the line. “Will youstopoverthinking things? They’re probably trying to just reclaim some space while not stepping on your toes, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Stop chewing your lip.”

I instantly release my lip from between my anxiously gnawing teeth. “How the fuck do you know these things?”

They laugh lightly, and I can practically hear them flipping their hair. “Girl, I told you, I’m psychic.”

“Yeah, or a stalker. Bet you got cameras in my damn kitchen.”

“Nah, only in your bedroom.”

I huff out a laugh, gazing back out at the garage as the bass stops for a moment, then starts up again with the next song. “You’re probably right. They just need time.”

“Youallneed time, girl. It’s been 10 years, you need to get to know each other again.” Zee waits for my response, but when I simply keep staring out the window at the fairy lights dangling in the trees, they sigh heavily. “OK, listen. I want you to order some takeout, and go crash that bachelor pad. They’ve had their boy time, let them have some family time now.”

I cringe a little at the wordfamily. “Reporters were at the prison, waiting for us.”

Zee’s disgusted retch sounds over the line. “Those absolute pigs.”

“I can see it now, all over the National Enquirer tomorrow -Daughter of Murdered Politician Embraces Father’s Murderers.”

“Well, no one reads that trash, so don’t you worry about that. Sorry, wait, hold on.” Zee’s muffled voice barks out commands, probably to one of the stylists at the salon they own downtown.

I pivot the phone away from my mouth, taking a few ambling steps across the kitchen to the open back door. I lean in the door frame, taking a deep breath of honeysuckle-scented air as a sliver of moon rises into the sky.

“OK, sorry, I’m back.” Zee’s harried voice sounds back over the line.

“You’re busy, I don’t want to keep you.”

“I’m sorry, girl, I got a whole crew of bridesmaids in here for trial styles, and this bride needs her own goddamn TV show.”

“They have one, it’s called Bridezillas,” I say with a chuckle.

“Oh, this one needs herown show.” Zee groans. “If you need me, I can stop by after I close up.”

“No, no, it’s OK really. We’ll do coffee this weekend.”

“We sure will. Tell Dylan I said hi. Love you!” They hang up before I can respond, and I take the phone from my ear.

A message from my cousin Lily appears on the screen, but I swipe it away without reading it. I’m not ready to talk about what’s happened or what I’m doing with my family yet.

Family. There’s that word again.

I roll my shoulders, using the breathing technique my yoga teacher taught me to calm my system, and feel my spine fall into alignment.It’s OK. You’re all together. They wanted to be here. Just order some dinner and go on out there, and have a beer with them.

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