Page 40 of What We Broke

Still holding Raine, my eyes follow Zara as she finally takes a seat on one of the recliners, curling her legs up underneath her and hugging a throw pillow to her chest. Closing her eyes, she looks small and sad, and my worry, as usual, just transfers from her to Leo and back again.

We are all hurting, but sometimes it feels like I’m the only one keeping us all together. I’m the middle man, and today I’m in agony underneath the weight of everyone’s pain.

I’m the fixer. The protector. And I love being that person for my family… But lately, it feels like I’m failing because I can’t fix or protect anybody. Especially them.

“Are you getting enough rest?” I ask Zara.

“She isn’t,” Raine pipes in. “I found her crying in the bathroom the other night.”

“Raine,” Zara scolds. “I did that in the privacy of my own home, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell your dad my business.”

“So, now I’m only her father,” I quip, annoyed that she doesn’t want me to know she’s struggling.

“That’s what you are,” she says.

“We’ve been best friends our whole lives, and if you’re struggling or you need help, you can tell me.”

Her gaze darts to Raine and then back to me, pleading to let this go.

And I do, for Raine’s sake.

“Can you at least go and nap?” I ask.

“I can have a nap at home,” she argues.

Raine ignores us and untangles herself from my arms. “I’m going to have a shower.”

Zara waits for Raine to walk out of earshot and then says, “What’s with your outfit? No work today?”

Looking down at my pressed shirt and pants, I figure there’s no use trying to hide the truth. “Gio called me the other night,” I start. “He was at the police station with Leo, who got arrested for drinking and driving. We had the hearing today.”

Her eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

Shrugging, I raise my hands in defeat. “You’re crying in the bathroom, Z. I don’t need to add to that.”

Even without the crying, I’ve been doing my best to keep as much as I can from her. She already holds so much guilt for losing Lola, and I make a conscious effort not to add my marriage to her list of casualties.

“I thought we didn’t have secrets,” she says.

She’s right. We don’t.

Usually we have a solid foundation when it comes to both our friendship and our roles as co-parents. But recently things have been blurred and messy. I’m trying to respect the privacy, pain, and healing of both her and Leo.

But it isn’t working. We’re all hiding feelings to spare the others and telling ourselves that the sadness we’ve all been cloaked in for the last twelve months will eventually go away.

It was taking its sweet-ass time.

“I can handle hearing about anything,” she argues. “I want to be here for you.”

Shaking my head, I effectively shut down the conversation. We don’t need to rehash how much we all love one another and who did what and wanted to for whom.

We’re family. We both know how this works. And knowing she has my back if I need it is enough.

Meeting Zara at the recliner, I extend an arm out and pull her up. Silently, I lead her to Raine’s room.

It’s a typical teenager’s room, her finger paintings and childhood memorabilia now replaced with posters of places she wants to see, music she listens to, and random poems.

Pulling back the blankets, I wait for her to crawl into the bed, then tuck her in. Just like I would with Raine.

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