Page 36 of Severed Rivalry
“Give me that.” Ayla extends a hand. “What’s your passcode?”
I study her.
“I’m going to get a new one for you. It’s not like this one is functional. But I need to be able to unlock it to set it up.”
I lift my shoulders and drop them in the universal sign of whatever and lift my fingers to tell her the code.
Her face is curious, but she repeats the numbers and then voice texts them to herself from my phone.
Super secure.
“Dinner is not for a while. Corinne is making several things. Her mashed potatoes are divine. There will be things there you can eat, though I know it’ll be crazy challenging. I mean, what do the doctors really know about liquid diets? That’s got to be miserable. We’ll find a way.”
I lift my hand to give her a thumbs-up.
“Want me to grab anything for you before I head out?”
I shake my head but point at my pup. She’s enough. She’s more than enough.
“Water? Painkillers? Yogurt?”
I make a face on the last one and regret it immediately. The pinching near my temples with the muscle movement surprises me, making me wince.
“Okay, fine. I’m just trying to help. I’ll be back before dinner. You know I love you, because cell phone crap is worse than buying a car. It takes forever.” She stretches out the word as if it’s two.
I make a heart with my hands and would laugh if I didn’t know better. It’s a gesture that’s younger than my baby sister would use and way too feminine, but I do it nonetheless.
What am I becoming?
Sariah
I head home on the dot of four. It’s not like me, but my mind has been spinning all day. I need to lay eyes on my daughter and dig in on my personal computer.
My work computer is fine, but the VPN and protections I have on my laptop at home prevent my searches from being tracked. I have enough info about yesterday to know I don’t need any more focus on me, any more attention on my family or my home.
Rosie and Renée have just gotten in when I arrive. I smooth the look on my face to something benign as I start dinner for the three of us. “How was your day?”
My daughter grunts and sits at the dining room table doing homework, headphones firmly in place, surely muting out everything but whatever teen or former teen star has her attention currently. Rosie moves with me in the kitchen prepping the bowls for our meal. Taco bowls will have to do.
Rosie chit chats as we move around each other in the narrowkitchen. “We’re expecting snow overnight. A heavy, wet dump. You need anything? I can run to the store.”
I want her with me, under my roof. I want a bazooka, even though I don’t know the first thing about them. I want the gnawing in my gut to go away and be replaced with peace and security.
The heavy gray skies when I drove home mirrored my mood. They were ominous, a warning.
“I think we’re good. Even for a few days. Want to stay here?”
“Nah.” She swipes the air. “Something about being in your own home on days like these that I crave. You’d say the same if I asked you to come with.”
You’d be surprised.I think it but I don’t say it. Right now, I’d run like hell. Any change in scenery would be a better option than being a sitting duck.
I set a bowl in front of Renée with all the goodies, minus the meat, but with tofu and extra black beans. Rosie and I plop down with ours, and we all dig in.
My daughter laments the incoming snow as if it’s life’s greatest tragedy. That and the nearly imperceptible lone blemish on her perfect skin. Chicken Little, meet my resident drama queen.
“Why do we live where it always snows?”
It doesn’t always snow, but engaging in this argument will wear me down before it does her.
