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Chapter 4

Author: Lyra
“Tessa, clean the oven after we leave. Soak the pans, too. There’s still grease on them from last night.”

Mom stood in my doorway. I was already dressed to leave.

She didn’t notice.

“Okay.”

“And don’t use steel wool. You scratched the coating off last time.”

Freya had scratched that pan.

She’d been afraid Mom would get angry and asked me to take the blame.

“Okay.”

“Don’t wait for us at lunch. Make yourself something.”

“Okay.”

Mom frowned.

“What’s with you today? Can’t you say anything besides ‘okay’?”

I looked up at her.

We looked so much alike, especially around the eyes. As a child, I’d secretly compared our faces in the mirror countless times. I’d searched for some difference that would prove I wasn’t hers.

I’d never found one.

There wasn’t one to find.

“I might have dinner with some coworkers tonight. I could be late.”

“Don’t drink too much.”

She turned and left.

At eight thirty, my parents drove away.

A little later, Freya came downstairs and stopped to fix her hair in the mirror by the door.

“I’m staying at a friend’s tonight. Don’t save me any dinner.”

“Got it.”

She left. The house fell quiet.

I sat on the couch for ten minutes, looking around the living room.

Freya’s trophies and photographs filled the mantel. A portrait of her in an evening gown hung on the wall. Her new leather boots stood by the door. Her cashmere coat lay over an armchair.

What was there of mine?

The rubber gloves beside the sink.

The old apron in the laundry room.

The note on the fridge, reminding Mom to take her medicine.

Take those away, and you’d barely know another daughter had lived here.

I picked up my backpack and wheeled my suitcase to the door.

I put on my shoes. Then I looked at the note one last time and peeled it off the fridge.

A moment later, I put it back.

Mom still needed to take her blood pressure medication.

I could hate her and still care what happened to her.

The driver who took me to the airport liked to talk.

“Going on vacation?”

“Work.”

“Where to?”

“The Silver Moon Pack. Up north.”

“That’s a long way. How long are you staying?”

“Fifteen years.”

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, surprised.

“That long? Your family must hate to see you go.”

I watched the scenery rush past and gave a faint smile.

“Maybe.”

I reached the airport two hours before boarding.

After checking my bag and going through security, I sat down at a coffee shop near the gate.

There wasn’t a single message on my phone.

No one had asked where I was.

To them, today was no different from yesterday.

I found Mom’s number in my contacts. My finger hovered over it for a long time.

I didn’t call.

What would I say?

I’m leaving. You can stop pretending you have two daughters?

You used a joke to get fifteen years of free housework out of me?

I know the truth. I was your daughter all along. Just the one you didn’t love?

It all sounded like a plea for affection.

I was too old to keep begging for that.

My phone buzzed as boarding was announced.

Freya.

“Can you send the course money today? I want to get my spot booked. Thanks.”

I looked at the message and tapped the reply box.

“Freya, I’m not sending it.”

I pressed send. Then I switched off my phone.

As the plane began to taxi, the runway lights slipped past my window.

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

It was time to start a new life.
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