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My eyes settle on the family portrait above the fireplace. I’ve been avoiding looking at it since I entered. Mom’s hair is not as grey in the picture, and Dad’s massive frame seems even larger in the picture. I am standing beside Dad, his arm draped around my shoulder. I remember the photographer having asked him to do that, but he didn’t do it of his own volition.
I stare at my face for a while and see I look unhappy, like an outsider.. Finally, my gaze settles on Deanna. She’s seated on a chair with the three of us standing behind her.
Even in a picture, I can see the bright light in her eyes. Her straight blonde hair, blue eyes, and half-smile on her face seem almost alive as I feel my eyes water. I rub my eyes with my hands, trying to keep my tears from falling.
“Have you found anything we can use?” Mom asks with desperation in her voice. “Anything at all?”
“Tristan came home with a letter last night. Did you sue already?”
Dad looks to Mom for an answer, but she keeps her eyes on me. “Yes, we did. He came here and threatened us yesterday.”
“Wait, he did? And you guys didn’t think to tell me?”
“We’re telling you now, and watch how you speak, young lady,” Dad warns.
“Yes, he did. He is a drunk, and he’s dangerous, and I will not see him ruin another blood of mine the same way he did to my daughter. I will not let him ruin Ruby while I’m alive!”
I want to say I’m your daughter, too, but I bite back the words. I wasn’t, not really. Dad had an affair with another woman not long after Ellen birthed Deanna. The woman died in childbirth, but the kid lived—I lived. Dad brought me home to be a part of the family, but I wasn’t, and Ellen made sure I knew that time and time again.
“Did you hear about the hit pieces?” Dad asks me.
“What hit pieces?”
“The ones published on Fortune that attack Tristan and his dirty past.”
“First I’m hearing of it, I’m afraid.”
“You should check it out,” Mom scoffs. “It confirms all we’ve always known. All these are good for us. All we need is that final nail in the coffin.”
Silence fills the room as her angry words hang in the air. I shift uncomfortably on the couch as they stare at me, waiting to be brought up to date. The smell of the cigar and bleach mix and makes me nauseous. What did they clean with the bleach?
“Well?”
“You’re not going to like it, but since I’ve been around him, I’ve not seen him take alcohol. Not once.”
My mind goes back to the masked party, and I recall he’d been drinking coke that night. A detail that stayed with me due to how out of the ordinary it was. Perhaps he is clean. I don’t plan on mentioning that night to my parents, so I remain silent. Their opinion of me is already low; I don’t need it lower.
Mom’s lips tighten, and the wrinkles on her forehead multiply as she scowls. Dad stands and goes to the sidebar in the corner of the room. In no time, he returns to her with a glass of what looks like bourbon. She takes a little sip without changing her expression.
My mind travels to Deanna and I, sneaking to the bar on different nights years ago, tasting the various drinks the bar offers. She was the golden child, but she was also the troublesome one. Although, I always got punished for it regardless of what Deanna said.
“Have you searched his house yet? What have you found?”
“No, I haven’t searched yet.”
Dad takes his seat and drags his almost-finished cigar. “You’re taking your time, it seems. Don’t you know how important this is?” He coughs repeatedly.
“I’m trying my best, Dad. I’ve only been working for him for a few days; there’s only so much I can see or do now.”
“Layla, don’t disappoint us. Don’t disappoint your sister. She was everything to us, everything to you, and this man chipped away at her until there was nothing left.” Ellen walks towards me. She’s a tiny woman, but she can be intimidating when she wants to be. “We have to save Ruby fast.”
Dad nods slowly in agreement with his wife. The room suddenly seems darker. Ellen takes another sip of her alcohol, not taking her eyes off me. We hold each other’s eyes, neither of us speaking.
“And she is my niece. We want the same thing,” I finally say, breaking the uncomfortable silence. I feel scared but don’t want to let my parents down, so I keep my face straight, a facade of courage.
“I know we do.” Mom’s voice quietens. She comes close to me and bends to be at my eye level. “I know we do, but Erin,” she calls me by my real name, her eyes watering, “he took away my life. He took away the one joy I had. He took away my Deanna—your sister.”
The one joy she had? I can’t decide if she’s deaf to her words and how they may make me feel or if she just doesn’t care enough about me. Knowing Ellen, I’ll wager on the latter.
