Page 29 of Under My Skin
Chapter Seventeen
LUCY
It’sa strange feeling to sit in a place you once called home and hardly recognize it. Simon wasn’t joking when he said they were packing up the house this weekend. It’s only Saturday morning and already the walls are completely bare of pictures, and all the knickknacks my mom collected over the years have vanished from the shelves.
To be fair, most of it was junk. But it was alwayssentimentaljunk. It was glazed pottery Simon and I painted in elementary school. It was the cute animal statues we traditionally bought her for Mother’s Day. And it was her small brushes in a cup beside her watercolor paints—just in case something outside inspired her.
This house hardly reflects the cozy childhood home I grew up in. It looks more like a clean slate—a fresh start for someone else to make their own.
“I still can’t believe you’re here, Lulu,” my father says as he sets a glass of lemonade on the coffee table in front of me. Painted strawberries cover the surface of the cup—another one of my mother’s crafts. I’ve probably sat on this couch and drank lemonade out of this glass more times than I can count, but this time, something is off. My eyes travel from the cup to my fatheras he sits in the leather chair across from me. He gives me a smile, but as much as he looks the same with his lanky frame and round eyeglasses, he’s different. This isn’t the smile he’s given me for most of my life; this one is strained. This is the smile trying and failing to cut through the tension, like trying to cut through the frozen ice cream cake we eat on his birthday every year with a butter knife.
“Are you sure we can’t get you something to eat?” my mother asks from the kitchen, but from the looks of things, she’s already working on preparing something for the sake of being busy.
“I’m fine,” I answer even though it’s a lie.Nothingabout this is fine.
My father nods as he wipes his hands on his jeans. I wonder if his palms are sweating as much as mine. “And you said your flight was good?”
“Yup.” I realize I’m sitting on my hands and shift to look more natural. “I got in last night.”
Mom abandons the kitchen to sit in the other armchair next to Dad. “Last night? Where did you stay?”
“Simon’s.”
My parents exchange a look, an unspoken message firing between them. They’re probably wondering how much my beloved brother has told me.
In a weak attempt to recover, my mother smiles. “Oh, is that why Everett dropped you off? Simon mentioned he’s staying with him for a little while. He’s been doing so well lately.”
I’m not here to talk about Everett. Even if the mention of his name does bring me the tiniest sense of comfort. With a sigh, I try to put us all out of our misery. I’m not here to play games with them. I’m here so we can lay all the cards on the table. “So, you’re selling the house?”
They stare back at me before briefly glancing at each other. It’s my mother who takes the lead. “We were going to tell you soon. Things have just been so hectic around here lately, and you were busy with your business.”
My eyebrows pinch. “Mom, we talk on the phone every week. You could have mentioned it.”
She looks at my father again, but he keeps his eyes trained on me. I can’t tell if he’s looking at me with pity, or if it’s just his own guilt shining through, but it’s enough to make me look down and fidget with the sleeve of my sweater in my lap.
“And Simon mentioned you’re getting a divorce?” My voice comes out so much smaller than I was hoping. When my eyes flick upward to catch their reaction, I’m met with the exact same scene: my mom looking at my dad while my dad stares at me with an unreadable expression.
“I’m sorry, Lulu. We should have told you,” he finally says, his words coming out as more of a realization than an admission of guilt.
“We just didn’t want to upset you, honey.” My mom reaches for my father’s hand, and the fact that they’re still acting like a united front shakes something inside of me awake.
“But you didn’t mind upsetting Simon?” There’s a little more sharpness in my tone this time, and I’m relieved to get my footing. “How can you share something like that with Simon, but not me?”
My dad drops his gaze to the floor, so my mom answers again. “Simon lives here. He would have seen the sign in front of the house. We had to tell him what was going on.”
I frown. “So, you’re saying you would have hidden it from him too if he lived out of state? What were you planning on doing? Having a secret divorce and then sending us two separate invitations for the holidays?”
My dad finally lifts his head, perking up for the first time since he sat across from me. “Actually, we figured we’d still enjoy the holidays together.”
My eyes jump between the two of them, and my mother gives me a smile with a reassuring nod.
“No, that’s weird,” I manage to say. “You can’t just divide ourfamily, get rid of the only home we’ve ever known, and then expect us to act like nothing has changed.”
“But we’ll always be a family,” my mom offers. She lets go of my dad’s hand so she can lean forward and give me her full attention. “Even if your dad and I aren’t together, we’re still so proud of you and Simon. I’d never want you to have to split your time between seeing us. It’s not like we can’t handle being in the same room. I have nothing but love and respect for this man.”
I throw up my arms in exasperation. “Then why the hell are you two getting a divorce?”
My father flinches, and I realize I may have raised my voice a little too loud.
