58. Isabella
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ISABELLA
After a restless night full of tossing and turning in a bed that doesn’t feel like mine any longer, I make the drive to Issaquah.
To my parents’ house for lunch.
Another place that doesn’t feel like mine.
I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Every single time I come back from a job, my mother invites me to lunch, and every single time she spends the entirety of the visit explaining how all of my decisions are wrong.
It’s not going to be any different.
And yet, here I am. Pulling into the stark, sterile, cookie-cutter neighborhood where every house looks the same, down to the mailbox. They live on the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, and while I’ve never liked this house, I almost despise it now.
It’s not me.
My mother throws open the front door just as I park my car in the driveway. Not a fallen leaf in sight in this meticulous lawn. No, it’s like my mother went through every blade of grass with a fine-tooth comb.
“Isabella!” she says, opening her arms wide. “It’s been too long. You have to stop going on these overly long trips!”
Trips.
My teeth grind together at her casual dismissal of the work I do. But I swallow it down despite it being harder to do than ever before.
“Happy to see you, too, Mom.” I let her hug me just a little too tightly and usher me into the house, closing the door behind me.
Despite the casual nature of lunch at the house, my mother is dressed in a fancy cable-knit sweater and perfectly pressed slacks. Little heels top it all off.
I watch as she eyes my ensemble of jeans and a flowing top with a light scoff.
Why did I come here?
“Hey, little buzz!” My dad says as we enter the formal dining room. All the food is carefully and meticulously presented.
My dad has called me ‘little buzz’ ever since I attempted to rescue an injured bumblebee as a child. I was so close, and then my mother screeched and demanded that he kill it.
He thinks the story is adorable.
“Hi, Dad.” I give him a small hug and go to my usual seat. We all sit down, awkward silence already filling the room like a slow drip. We never know what to talk about with each other.
“Your cousin apparently still refuses to get back together with that boyfriend of hers,” my mother says finally, a gleeful little smile lifting her cheeks. “Your aunt is in tears about it.”
My poor cousin. She and I have only met a handful of times, but I feel like I know her entire life story. My mother loves to gossip about how poorly her sister is doing in comparison to us.
“You sound so concerned.” The words fly out of my mouth so fast that I have to resist the urge to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop anything else from coming out.
I’ve gotten comfortable voicing my thoughts.
It seems I’ve forgotten how to politely nod along as my mother cruelly gossips about others.
My mother’s eyebrows quirk, but otherwise, she continues to cut her chicken primly. “Of course I am. My poor sister has never had much of a handle on that daughter of hers. Although I guess I know the feeling.”
Here it comes.
My dad tunes us out completely, going into that happy little hidey hole in his head. I wonder what plays in there. Sports reruns, childhood memories. Who knows.
My mother’s eyes narrow on me. “We’ve allowed you to float around without any real plan for quite a long time, Isabella.”
The words sting.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know I actually had a really good job this time.” I sit up in my seat. “I organized a seventy-fifth anniversary event for the town of Lunamois. The whole thing went off without a hitch.”
My chest lightens for the first time since I left Lunamois as I talk about the event. As I remember my friends, and how, despite my discomfort, they all had smiles on their faces by the end of the night.
“There was a band, and a bunch of local artisans who set up booths to sell their wares. It was kind of like an art festival. Plus, there was a bunch of amazing food.”
My mother huffs. “I can see that.”
How dare she? I look down at my body, and I can’t find a single spot I hate. Where before I could give a whole laundry list of little things I’d change about myself, I’ve seen myself in a new light recently.
Because of Nick. Because of how reverently he touched me.
“I’ve talked with your father.” She glares at him until he snaps up and nods at me. “And he’s ready to fund the rest of medical school. It’s time for you to buckle down and plan for a real future. No more of this scampering about.”
“I have a real future,” I reply, standing from the table. “And it’s in Lunamois. I love that town, and I’ve received a full-time job offer to work for the mayor’s office. I’m going to take it.”
“I’ve never even heard of this town before!” She says, hands slapping onto her legs. “You’re going to hole up in the middle of nowhere for a job you could get anywhere?”
“It’s a beautiful place full of genuine people, and I wouldn’t want this job anywhere else.” The honesty with which I can say those words spurs me forward toward the door. “And it’s where I’m going. Permanently.”
I can hear my mother squawking at my father, but I don’t care.
I want to go home.
I’ll pick up the rest of my things from my apartment, break my lease, and then I’m done.
I’m going home to Lunamois.