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“Cecilia?”
I furrowed my brow as the emptiness of my father’s sprawling mansion-esque home greeted me. I didn’t hear Cecilia call out for me, so I called her name again. And again. I repeated it as I walked around the house. I darted into guest bedrooms and checked the laundry room. I went back upstairs as fear gripped my heart. Hell, I even risked opening my father’s bedroom doors to see if she was in there.
No one was around, though.
“Cecilia!”
My voice roared through the house. I dashed around in a frenzy, trying to locate her. It wasn’t until I found the front door ajar, though, that I looked outside. And I found her. Standing there. At the end of the driveway.
With her back to me.
I narrowed my eyes and watched her unwavering body. She almost looked like a statue. One I didn’t recognize. Her state of dress shocked me. Her hair was disheveled. She had her fucking robe on. Slippers on her feet with her nightgown peeking out from beyond the fluffiness of her robe. I’d never seen her step out of the house without a full face of makeup on. Designer heels. Thousands of dollars’ worth of clothing and jewelry. And there she stood. Like any other stay-at-home mother.
Staring down at the ground.
“Cecilia?”
I walked toward her, leaving the front door hanging wide open. I tossed my bomber jacket onto the railing of the porch as the morning sun greeted me. The wind was brisk. Colors splashed against the sky. I kept an ear out for my father, just in case he was around. Something told me he wasn’t, though.
Then, I got to Cecilia’s side.
“What the—?”
She wasn’t looking down. She was looking at our mailbox. Specifically, at the sign swinging below it. I blinked a few times, trying to bring the words into focus. Trying to convince myself I wasn’t seeing what I knew was so plainly there.
“I don’t even know when he came by.”
Her voice sounded so defeated. Breathless. Exhausted. Cecilia sniffled as she raked her hand through her knotted hair. I looked over at her and saw tears dripping down her cheeks. Tears of defeat. Tears of fear. Tears of wariness. My eyes gravitated back to the sign. I reached out and touched it, trying to convince myself it was real.
Then I snickered. “Can he do this? I mean, your name’s on the house too, right?”
She shook her head slowly, not saying a word. And my stomach fell to my toes. In that moment, I realized that Cecilia was more like me than I could’ve ever understood. A prisoner in her own home. Where nothing was hers and everything was held over her head in spite. I raked my eyes over her, watching her unwavering body. The way she stood eerily still despite the tears that flowed down her cheeks told me she was a professional at that. Crying silently. Crying so no one knew.
“Come here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her against me. And finally, Cecilia pulled her eyes away from the ‘For Sale’ sign swinging underneath our mailbox. Fear filled them. Wariness wafted behind them. Confusion wrinkled her brow and when she sniffled, there were twinges of anger riding on its coattails.
“I don’t know how he can do this, Clint.”
Her words were nothing but a whisper. But they felt as loud as a bullhorn. All my life, I’d been telling myself that same thing. Telling myself that I didn’t understand how my father got away with some of the things he did. For a while, I thought it was his money. The millions and millions he threw around only to come out on top, again and again. Never losing. Never failing. Always climbing higher. I wondered when his time would come. When he’d fly too close to the sun and fall to the earth.
And in my dreams as a child, I dreamt of that fall killing him somehow. So I’d be rid of him for good.
It killed me to see that same want in Cecilia’s face.
“Do you have any idea of when he came by?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t even know if he came into the house. I passed out hard around one. So, some time after that, I guess.”
“Does Dad have any other property around here? A home or something I don’t know about?”
She shrugged. “He’s probably staying in some hotel or something. Or maybe he’s placed a call from the hospital to someone. I don’t know. It could be a million things.”
“We should call the hospital today. See if he’s checked out.”
“I figured I would’ve gotten a phone call from someone.”
“That’s not always the case. Especially if he didn’t want anyone calling you.”
