Page 120 of Hunger & Harmony

My gaze wanders to her phone, the GPS next to the wheel stating we’re only an hour away from my parents' house.

A pit festers in my stomach, and I fall silent again. Even talking about pop music doesn’t feel the same. Maybe because things have changed.

Maybe because I’m the one who changed.

I don’t have time to question when Viola got a key to my parents' house when a warm, purring body rubs up against my leg.

“Oh, hi there, Misty,” I coo, kneeling to run my hands over her silken fur.

My parents brought her home the Christmas I turned fourteen. Although she’s the family cat, she’s spent many nights curled up on my bed. I took pride in how she favored my blankets to sleep on. While she’s not nearly elderly, she’s always felt like a little grandma to me. Adorably wizened.

She meows again, followed by a high-pitched chirp. Her expectant green eyes relax when I settle into petting her.

“You missed me?” I ask, not minding that her snow-white fur is already sticking to my clothes. “I missed you, too, old girl.”

She’s the only silver lining in this mess. If I’d had my way, I would‌ never have seen the inside of this entryway again. Winter gloves and boots line up next to the oak sideboard, with keys, trinkets, and old family photos glinting in the afternoon light. Each lived-in detail deepens the storm beneath my sternum. This home holds memories tainted with lies now.

Misty flops onto the faded rug, and I babble softly at her. She’s the only one I can’t harbor any resentment for.

“It’s like you never left.”

My stomach twists when I hear my dad’s voice. I keep my attention on Misty, holding onto a smile when she stretches and licks her paw. Another pair of footsteps enters the room, and my dread skyrockets.

“Here, let me get her stuff,” my dad says to Viola, and she hands him my suitcases.

“You staying for lunch?” my mom asks her as my dad rolls my luggage away.

“I actually have to go, but I might drop by for dinner.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

It’s like I’m trapped here, but a million years away all at once. I focus on the warmth under my hands, and not every negative bottle on my mind’s shelf threatening to burst. My parents and Viola only speak around me, about me, and for me.

My throat tightens. No. I won’t cry.

At some point, I hear the front door close behind Viola. I’m unaware whether my mom is still around or not.

“Alright, freckle-face!” my dad calls from upstairs. “Everything’s in your room when you’re ready.”

Misty chirps again when my hands pull away.

“Sorry, Miss Misty,” I murmur before I pick myself back up.

Face-to-face with my mom, I’ve never felt smaller. More disappointing. She must’ve been standing there the whole time. Was it a couple of minutes? An hour? Her blue eyes bore into me, and I shuffle on my shoes.

“Lunch will be ready soon,” she says. “If you want to wash up and get yourself sorted, there’s still time.”

Her tone isn’t as harsh as I expected. It’s not warm, though, and I recoil as she steps towards me.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

I sidestep her and head for the stairs.

It’s not how strict she always was. Not even how unfair she and my dad were. It’s knowing why—knowing now that every rule, regulation, and absurd argument was all rooted in deceit. They hid the truth about my blood from me.

For what? Just so I’d stumble unknowingly into my own fate, regardless? Just to unravel the dearest love I’ve ever known?

They kept me in the dark to my detriment.