Page 143 of The Sinner: James

Saddened, I peel my gaze away from the window, turn around, and head to the counter.

Five minutes after seven, I finish cleaning the store, pull my coat on, lock the door, and leave.

The wind almost sweeps me off my feet as I take a few steps on the sidewalk. Shivering, I hug my coat closer, lift my collar, and walk up the street.

Good thing my place is only a few blocks away. Right around the corner, I pass by a small soup shop.

They sell delicious, hearty soups this time of year and freshly baked bread right from the oven, the aroma drifting through the air.

They also offer a large variety of cookies and brownies, the delicious smell of cocoa and vanilla making me stop and ponder whether to spend the little money that I have on eating out.

Reluctantly, I walk away.

After a couple more blocks, I stroll by a convenience store, turn left, and walk into my building.

* * *

RAIN

“Are you coming home for Christmas?”Eve asks, her voice hoarse from a cold.

Taking a long breath, I slump into a chair, my phone clutched in my hand.

“I can’t take time off from work,” I say. “Besides, it’s only Mom and me, so there’s no point in making the trip. If I go home, she’ll cancel her vacation plans and pretend nothing happened. She’ll also try to make things look better, and it’s not worth the effort. Things are still weird between us, and it’s not as if we’re dying to spend time together. At least, if I don’t go home, she can fly to California and spend some time with her friends and cousins without grappling with guilt because of it. Hopefully, she’ll get to enjoy herself and forget about the past.”

“What about you?”

“There’s plenty of snow here as well,” I joke, breathing a forced laugh.

“Don’t you miss home?” she asks, disappointed.

“Nope. I’m fine. I keep myself busy.”

My lie is more bitter than a mouthful of some nasty medicine.

She pauses.

“Are you still there?” I ask after a moment.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

She sneezes and blows her nose.

“Damn it,” she mutters, annoyed. “I fucking hate this stupid cold. Anyway… Any news from Daria? Your dad?”

“No. Things are pretty much the same...” I murmur, my voice trailing off as my mood shifts for the worse.

It’s not as if I expected to hear from them.

I knew things would take a turn for the worse after what happened.

There was no way we could walk away from that mess unscathed, especially after facing the ugly truth about our not-so-perfect family.

We’d built our life on lies, and the ending was heartbreaking and predictable.

The destruction was unavoidable since nobody wanted to patch things up and make them work again, so naturally, everything imploded in the end.

“Things are the way they are,” I say, trying to sound at peace with what happened in the past, still grappling with conflicted emotions.

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