Page 41 of Escaping Our Reality

“So, that oil tycoon great-grandfather you mentioned? His last name wouldn’t happen to be Exxon, would it?”

She laughs, slapping a hand across my chest before jumping out of the passenger’s side of her SUV. I follow her, staring at the monstrosity of the house in front of me. I swear it would take up half a city block. We parked in the driveway on the left side of the house. Lulu’s side of the house. There’s a completely different driveway on the right side of the house, but you can’t even see it from here. The house is that big.

Massive pecan trees line the yard, closest to the road, and the front of the house is immaculately groomed with shrubs and blooming winter flowers, accenting the red brick and regal white columns. Before heading inside, Lulu walks me around back, opening an ornate, wrought iron fence. There’s an infinity pool with a hot tub and a waterfall. The kind of pool that you can’t see the bottom of—where the water looks like a black opaque blanket glittering in the sun. Patio furniture decorates the porch. Matching patio furniture. Expensive patio furniture.

“So, this is the outside. I spend most of the summer out here. Mom never swims. It would mess up her hair and makeup. So instead, she uses the tanning booth in the gym on her side of the house.”

When we go inside the Children’s Wing, I can see exactly what she was talking about. It looks comfy, don’t get me wrong, but it also looks forced. Everything is decorated in varying shades of white, gray, and navy. The gray marble floors, the white granite countertops, the overstuffed navy sofa with furry white blankets strategically draped over each corner. The TV is bigger than my tent.

It looks like a perfect model house and not an actualhome.

I know I want a home one day. A perfectly imperfect place for me and my family.

Says the kid who’s homeless. So, who am I to judge where Lulu lives, but this place isn’t a home.

Carrie’s bedroom is decorated in navy and white. The bed’s neatly made, but there are some clothes tossed on the floor near the full-length mirror and some shoes laying under the chair of the corner desk.

“I put everything back the way it was.” Lulu rubs the scar on her neck. “When I got home from the cruise, the police had searched her room. Mom had a maid come in and clean everything up afterward. But Carrie always leaves those Crocs under her desk chair. She wears them in the house like house shoes. She can’t stand walking around barefoot. The marble is too cold on her feet. And those clothes,” she points to the ones on the floor, “they were laying on the floor the last time I was here, before I left for the cruise.” She loudly swallows, her throat making a strange little noise. “I guess I feel a little less alone when I see those shoes and clothes. Like, she’ll be back in just a day or two, you know?”

My heart fucking collapses in my chest.

Walking across the hallway, she walks me into her bedroom. The midday sun filters through the wooden blinds, streaking her white and gray comforter in light. Gray and white, gray and white. Her room looks like the rest of the house. Neat as a pin.Professionally decorated, even down to the pictures of her and Carrie nestled in the ribbon of a picture board.

“Your mom decorate in here too?”

“Yeah, why?”

“MyLulu doesn’t really strike me as a gray and white kind of girl.”

She bites her lip, trying to hide her smile. “YourLulu isn’t.” She points to the darkened bathroom on the opposite side of her bedroom. “Bathroom is through there if you need to use it.”

Giving her hip a little squeeze, I head into the bathroom while she goes to get something to drink. Her bathroom is bigger than most people’s apartments. There’s a large tile shower, a claw-foot garden tub, and a large marble vanity covered in baskets of neatly stocked cosmetics and jewelry. I peek into one, filled to the brim with necklaces. Just looking at the necklaces makes me smile.

Lulu stopped wearing long necklaces. At my suggestion, might I add. I hate when they get caught between us when we are kissing.

Those damn beads can easily bruise a man’s chest. And since my kissing of Lulu ramped up like a drag racer on nitro after our first week together, I was bruised. A lot.

Back in the kitchen, Lulu’s on her laptop. “Sorry, I just needed to plug in for a quick second. I had to email that history assignment.”

“So, how do you get to the other side of the house?”

She walks me back down the hallway, and at the very end, there’s a simple white door. She opens it, and I stare down the long marble hallway, leading to the Big House. It strangely feels like a pathway leading to death row. “Through there.”

“Lulu, this is weird, right? Most houses don’t have this. It’s like your parents live in a completely different land.”

“Yep, told you it was a very long hallway. Over there is the land where hopes and dreams go to die.”

“Are they home right now?”

“Not that I know of. I sometimes go for days without seeing my parents. But my dad usually works on Saturday mornings and then plays golf with friends. Or plays doctor with one of his mistresses. Mom usually sleeps off her wine hangover until lunch and then has afternoon brunch at the country club.”

She doesn’t ask if I want to meet her parents and I don’t press the issue. I’ve never met a girl’s parents before. Why the hell would I want to start now?

Besides, like I’ve told myself a thousand times, this thing with Lulu is temporary. Very temporary. I don’t need her parents to point out the fact that I’m a deadbeat and cause me to lose Lulu any quicker than I already am.

It’s inevitable.

And I really want to fight off the inevitable for as long as I can.

---