Page 56 of What We Broke

“You’re leaving?” Leo asks as soon as I exit our room and enter the living area. I realize quickly my clothes are the tip-off.

“Yeah, I have somewhere to be,” I lie.

“Oh, okay.” It’s then I notice the boiling pot and fry pan on the stove. I shift my gaze just in time to catch the sad, rejected look on his face, and the irony of it all makes my blood boil.

“Fuck this,” I mutter.

I don’t dare look at him, because he’s still Leo and I’m still me, and if I hold out even a second longer, I’ll stay so I don’t have to see the same look on his face that I know I’ve had on mine formonths.

I don’t make a huge production of leaving the house. I don’t say a word. Not even a goodbye.

When I get in my car, I fuck around with the display screen and call Zara.

“Hey, Dad,” Raine answers after three rings, and her voice immediately calms me down. “Hey, babe, how are you?”

“Good. I’m just waiting for Mom to get out of the shower.”

“How is she today?” I ask.

“Ah, she’s good?” Raine answers, but it sounds more like she’s questioning my question. “Did something happen?”

“No,” I lie. “I was just checking in and making sure everything was set for you to come over this weekend. I couldn’t remember if you were coming over Thursday or Friday night.”

“Oh, about that,” she says, her voice cautious. “I’m not going to come this weekend.”

“What? Why?” I know the answer, it’s been the same song and dance, or at least a variation of it, since Leo returned home.

When Lola died, just like the rest of us, Raine was devastated. But my daughter was too like me, and she put on her mask and played the role of perfectly fine better than I ever could.

Zara and I told the school about our circumstances and asked them to advise us if they noticed any changes in her behavior or her school work and to let us know if anything out of the ordinary happened… A phone call from them never came.

But just as I’m starting to feel my impatience increase as of late, I’m certain she has to be feeling the same way too. I imagine her to be annoyed by all the changes. All the back and forth, all the hot and cold.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel comfortable at our place anymore,” I tell her.

“Dad.” She sighs. “It’s not like that. Things are just different. I’m getting busier with spring break coming up.”

I swallow her lie, because who am I to pull her up on her avoidance tactics when I just left my own house for the same reason?

“Do you have any free time in between your plans for me to come over on the weekend? It can be just the two of us, or Mom can join us if she doesn’t have plans.”

“I don’t have plans,” Zara’s voice comes through. “Come over whenever you want.”

There’s some muffled discussion on the other end before Raine says goodbye and hands the phone to Zara.

“You’re off loudspeaker now,” she informs me knowingly.

“You cut Leo’s hair.”

“I did,” she draws out.

When nothing but silence follows, I huff. “Is that really all you’re going to give me?”

“You’ve both been going to therapy and you mentioned there was some progress,” she says. “I wanted to see for myself if it was true.”

“And?”

I don’t know why I wait with bated breath or even why her approval matters, but I need someone to tell me I’m not making things up for the sake of holding on to something that is no longer within my reach.

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