Page 101 of The Fractured

Chapter 35

Lily

Wednesday. The day of my mother’s anticipated open house.

Dad left for work this morning before the sun had risen. When I asked Mom about it over breakfast, she said she knew nothing and brushed off the topic as she called for Jane to get out of bed.

The first half hour of being awake felt normal as I sent Dean a text over breakfast, asking how last night went. I didn’t think much about him not responding right away until I wondered if Dad's leaving early meant something else.

As I headed upstairs to get ready for work, I called Seb. He was at the meeting too, so he was bound to know if anything happened.

“I haven’t heard from him since last night,” Seb said, putting the call on loudspeaker so Kira could join. “I could drop by his place if you want?”

“Could you?”

“Maybe he broke his phone,” Kira joked gently, referring to Seb’s mishap from weeks ago.

I smiled a little but didn’t feel completely convinced. “Maybe… I need to get ready for work. Talk soon.”

Another hour later, I stood before the bathroom mirror, anxious and overstimulated from being back at my family home — living with Mom again felt like winding back several years of extremely slow confidence building. I was reminded of the reason why I wanted out to begin with. It was suffocating, more so than at work. At work, it was only a few hours of the day where I barely talked to Mom anyway.

But in her house was a whole other level of sanity challenging.

Take the conversation over breakfast about my hair, for example. She was adamant about bringing me to a salon, no matter how many times I said I didn’t want it cut shorter.

So, with that discussion adding to my anxiety, I locked myself in the bathroom for a moment of peace.

I stared at myself a second longer and then straightened. “Fuck it.”

I yanked open the top drawer below the basin and grabbed a pair of scissors and a comb. I might regret it later, but I needed to do something I could control.

Settling myself with a few breaths, I combed my hair and brought several strands in front of my face. I picked up the scissors next and got to work, snipping the golden-brown waves hanging across my face into soft bangs.

Cutting my hair might not have been the most rebellious act of protest in the history of protests, but it felt great. Possibly better than when I brought Dean to a conservative family barbeque — in hindsight, that was pretty fucking great too.

It was safe to say my mother did not approve of my new hairstyle when I finally emerged from the upstairs bathroom. She spotted me from where she waited in the kitchen, and her mouth dropped open, about to protest my new look before she snapped her mouth shut again and stormed by me on her way to the front door.

Jane walked by next, and she grinned at my hair. “I love it.”

“Thanks.” I adjusted the freshly cut strands as I stole a glance towards the front door as our mother walked outside. “So begins the silent treatment.”

“At least you won’t have to talk to her now,” Jane shrugged, adjusting the strap of her school bag across her shoulder. Under her arm was a textbook for the Italian classes she was taking — classes Dean had offered to help with before my father intervened with the threat of arrest, prison, and his mother’s deportation…

I felt the urge to scream, but opted against it since Jane was still in front of me. Mom would be all too happy to race back into the house and announce that dating a tattooedbad boywas the reason why I suddenlyflew off the railsand cut my hair.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she blamed my stomachache on Dean too.

I tried to keep busy, creating small talk with potential clients and handing out fliers as I stood in the kitchen of the recently renovated two-story home in South Bay Ridge. All the while, my mind was on my phone. I kept checking it, expecting a text from Dean, but found none.

At least none from him.

A text from Seb woke my lock screen.

Seb: Sofia said he never came home last night. I’ll check in with the garage.

Chewing my nail, I braced my forearms on the stone counter. Its cool surface sent a chill through my body as I opened my phone contacts and tapped Dean’s number.

As the call rang out, my eyes drifted to the entry hall of the house, where a large archway opened up the interior. I could seestraight to the front door, where my mother was greeting two new potential buyers.