Chapter 4

By the next morning, we were back at our house.

Shopping bags covered the living room floor. They were filled with the clothes, shoes, and vitamins Mom had ordered me to buy for Chloe after we left the hotel.

Chloe sat on the couch, opening them one by one.

“I love this trench coat.” She held the beige coat against herself and admired it in the mirror. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“It looks beautiful on you,” Mom said. “You can wear it when you go back to campus.”

I stood a few feet away with a vacuum in my hand.

The stitches in my foot still pulled whenever I moved, and the nurse had told me to stay off it as much as possible.

Mom had decided that meant I could still clean.

That was the rule in our house. If I was physically capable of standing, I was capable of doing chores.

“Natalie, don’t forget to water the plants on the back patio,” Mom said without looking at me.

I didn’t answer.

I finished vacuuming around Chloe’s shopping bags and put the vacuum away.

My flight left tomorrow afternoon.

Packing wouldn’t take long.

A few changes of clothes. Several finance textbooks. The three-year-old laptop that crashed whenever I opened too many files.

One small suitcase could hold everything from my old life worth keeping.

After dinner, Dad walked into the living room holding three tickets.

“There’s a symphony downtown tomorrow night,” he announced. “Chloe’s favorite conductor is performing.”

Chloe’s face lit up.

“Seriously?”

“I called in a favor and got us three seats in the orchestra section.”

She jumped up and wrapped both arms around him.

“Thank you, Dad!”

Mom smiled. “You can wear your new coat. We’ll get your hair done first and have dinner downtown before the performance.”

They started discussing restaurants and what time they should leave.

No one explained why there were only three tickets.

They didn’t need to.

In their minds, a family outing had always meant the three of them.

“Natalie.”

Dad finally turned toward me.

“We won’t be home for dinner tomorrow, so just order yourself something.”

Mom pointed toward the laundry room.

“Move the clothes into the dryer before you go to bed. Chloe’s cashmere sweater needs to be laid flat, though. Don’t put it in with the rest.”

I stood beside the open dishwasher, sliding the last plate into the bottom rack.

“Okay.”

Mom frowned slightly, as though my lack of protest had disappointed him.

“You heard what I said about the sweater?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It was expensive.”

I closed the dishwasher.

Tomorrow, none of it would be my responsibility anymore.

The next morning, Mom and Dad took Chloe downtown before noon. Her hair appointment was at one, but Mom wanted time to shop before lunch.

As Chloe stepped outside in her new coat, Mom called back to me.

“Don’t forget the laundry.”

The front door shut behind them.

A moment later, the dead bolt clicked.

I moved the clothes into the dryer and laid Chloe’s sweater flat on the drying rack.

Then I unloaded the dishwasher, wiped down the kitchen counters, and watered the plants on the patio.

Not because they had told me to.

Because I wanted to leave nothing unfinished.

When I was done, I went upstairs and pulled my old black suitcase from beneath the bed.

There wasn’t much to pack.

Most of the furniture in my room had been chosen by Mom. Most of the clothes in my closet were things she had bought because they were on sale.

I left all of it behind.

The phone on my nightstand belonged to the family plan Dad paid for. I transferred the documents I needed, removed my accounts, and reset it to factory settings.

Then I placed it in the center of my desk.

The spare house key went beside it.

I took one last look around the bedroom where I had spent most of my life.

I had expected to feel something.

Grief. Regret. Maybe even fear.

Instead, I felt lighter.

As if I had been carrying this house on my back for twenty years and had finally been allowed to set it down.

I wheeled my suitcase downstairs and put on the new sneakers I had bought with my own money.

My injured foot protested as I tied the laces, but I welcomed the pain.

It reminded me that I had survived.

I didn’t leave a note or send a goodbye text.

I simply opened the front door and stepped into the sunlight.

At two forty-five that afternoon, I handed my boarding pass to the gate agent.

“Have a good flight, Ms. Bennett.”

“Thank you.”

I walked down the jet bridge without looking back.

Once I was seated, I took out my new phone and activated the number I had arranged the day before.

My parents didn’t have it. Neither did Chloe.

Every connection they had to me remained inside the phone on my desk.

The cabin door closed. I looked out the window.

Soon, the city began to fall away beneath me.

This time, I was the one leaving them behind.

By the time my family realized I was gone, I would already be on my way to a new life.