I felt trapped and alone in my own house.
I opened the fridge door in search of something to drink. I had spent the morning running around the property, determined that I would not become lazy and complacent in the safety of the house. I sighed in exasperation when I spotted something in the vegetable crisper that definitely didn’t belong there.
“Mom, seriously?” I yanked the gun out from the drawer and held it out to her. She was sitting at the dining room table, a romance novel open in front of her as she sipped her tea. She made a face and took it. “How on earth did that end up in the vegetable drawer? Honestly?”
She shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “I went into the fridge to get some milk for my tea and must have left it in there by accident.”
“You need to keep it with you at all times, Mother,” I said, slowly, trying as hard as I could to keep a fair level of patience in my voice. “That’s what the holster is for.”
Her eyes flashed up at me, her tone was firm. “It’s excessive, Zoey. It’s unnecessary. We are safe. I can defend myself if need be, but there is no need for me to carry the gun with me at all times.”
I opened my mouth to protest but shook my head. “Just keep it with you.” I slid it across the table to her, where it bumped lightly with her cup of tea, some of it splashing onto the table. I felt a pair of eyes on me and looked up to the doorway. Ash stood there, watching our exchange. My eyes went to his waist, and I was relieved to see his gun was holstered there. Despite everything else, at least he had managed to do that.
“I’m going upstairs,” I said to no one in particular, stomping past Ash and making my way upstairs and into my bedroom. I closed the door quietly behind me. I crossed over to the bedside table and opened the tiny drawer that was there. I kept pictures in there of Bandit, Madison and my dad, pictures to tide me over when I spent random holidays with my mom and Caspar.
I climbed up onto my bed, folding my legs underneath me. I held the pictures in my lap and flipped through them slowly. Bandit and I when we first brought him home from the shelter. The red bow around his neck was larger than his head was as a small puppy. There was a picture of Madison and I at Coney Island, the pink stickiness of cotton candy on both of our cheeks. The picture had been taken just as Madison had burst out laughing, her small mouth open wide. There were several pictures of my dad and myself: at Katz Deli, at more than one Mets game, at my junior high school graduation, the two of us at Christmas.
I felt the tears prick at the corner of my eyes, but they didn’t fall. I was beginning to think that I was all dried up, incapable of crying anymore. I felt the emptiness deep in my heart, in my stomach, my whole body, but I couldn’t find it in myself to cry anymore.
I jumped when the door burst open. I was poised to yell at Ash for not knocking for the millionth time when I looked up and saw my mom. She closed the door behind her, crossed the room and took a seat at the chair set up in front of the small desk she had added in my room a couple years ago. She had a serious look on her face, and I wondered for a moment if I was going to be scolded for nagging. I set the pictures aside, laying them gently on the table beside the bed.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Yeah, I was definitely in trouble.
“About what?” I asked, avoiding eye contact with her, my fingers tracing the raised scar on my hand where Madison had bit me.
“About the fact that you act like every minute spent here is the worst, as if you’re in some sort of prison.”
I looked over my pillow, my headboard, out the window, anywhere but her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I answered, my voice full of impatience. “I am grateful to have made it to Constance. I’m grateful that I’m relatively safe.”
She sighed, running her hands through her blonde hair, so unlike my own dark hair. Sometimes it amazed me how little I looked like my own mother. “I don’t disagree with you, Zoey. I believe you are happy that you are safe. I don’t think you’re happy that you’re safe here with me. Or Ash for that matter.”
I squirmed uncomfortably. “I brought Ash with me, all the way from New York. I kept him safe, and he kept me safe. You will never understand what we went through to get here.”
“I know I won’t, but…”
“Was there a purpose to you being here in my room?” I interrupted.