“I’m not.” I remind him I am a Hale. AuroraHale.
I watch in fascination as his eyes pulsate at the same rate his throat bobs up and down. Up and down like the prices of stocks in the market. Did I strike a nerve?
I didn’t think you were allowed those standards when you lost all principles.
The atmosphere is more cumbersome, exploding with strain. A strangled noise falls from his mouth, mine stays void.
“Dinners will be held in the dining room every evening from here on out,” Abram says, grounding out the words.
My mouth falls open.
“See you tomorrow night.”
six
Rory
Callitcuriosity,irony,whatever you want, but I show up.
I don’t have friends, a job, or any other valid excuse that might fall flat to Abram’s demand, so here I am.
Detached, but here.
I am not the only one upset at this. Lorna has been staring daggers across from me. While Finn doesn’t lift his head from the food that he is picking at on his plate.
Abram is the only one excited about this forced arrangement.
Wiping at his mouth, he tries several times to start the conversation. It falls as flat as my hair after I straighten it every morning.
I am surprised to learn that I am being gifted with a present. A car. Abram tells me it arrived before I did. He thinksit might be nice for Finn to take his sister to school on her first day.
He stresses the sister part, really trying to force us to bond, as if it would matter in the end. The ticcing of Finn’s jaw the rest of dinner tells me how he feels about that.
Little does he know in under four months, I will be gone. That day can’t come fast enough.
“Ready, or do you need to exploitmydad for more money?” Finn grumbles. Scowling across the kitchen island the next morning.
We dress the same. Navy-blue blazer, white button-down shirt underneath, with a red tie. The only difference is he has slacks and I have a skirt. The items neatly laid out on my bed after I showered.
“Morning, kiddos,” Abram delivers, too chipper, filling a cup with coffee.
The aroma of ground coffee beans wafts through my nose, reminding me of Sunday morning rushes at Alma’s. I thought those people were lifeless. They don’t compare to the permanent scowl Finn points in my direction.
“Excited for your first day of senior year?”
Finn storms out in a huff, dodging the open-aired question. Leaving me to be the only one to answer. Like a true gentleman, he never plays fair.
Abram looks to me encouragingly, but it dies the moment he takes in my jaded expression. I wasn’t any happier about this than Finn.
The thing about emotions is if you pretend you don’t have any, people can’t control you. Control opens itself up to hurt. Hurt is something I’ve grown numb to. I am indestructible in essence.
His brows dip, pinching together. I look down, following the movement. “Were your shoes not laid out this morning?”
By shoes, he means those black four-inch weapons with a stick pointing out the heel.
“I like these better,” I say, inspecting my Chucks. They are a little rough looking around the edges but still work, like me.
He swivels, turning toward the oven. “Care for some breakfast? Can’t say I’m the best cook. Our chef usually prepares the meals.” He chuckles. So different from the man I remember.