Chapter Seven
We were at my place after spending a lazy day together in bed, getting dressed to go out for dinner, when I asked Lucas, "When will you be back?"
Something had been bugging me about his camping trips, even though there hadn’t been any issues since the last incident.
We had been together for two years, longer than most couples we knew.
But lately, I was scared he was slipping away.
He’d had one bad game a while back, and ever since, he hadn’t quite been himself.
He was distant and evasive, disappearing on random weekends.
"I don’t know." He didn’t even turn to face me.
I frowned. "How can you not know?"
"I’m just visiting my parents, so I’ll be back when I’m back. You ready?"
My head spun, and my ears rang. He lied.
Again. With a brazenness that was almost insulting.
Not only had he failed to maintain a consistent story, but he had also shown a staggering lack of creativity.
Just a week ago, he had told me he was going camping.
When I asked him who would be joining him, he sidestepped the question with ease.
And now, he claimed he was visiting his family, completely forgetting what he’d told me before.
His lie was pathetic, too. He’d just been home, and now he was going again?
In September, right after the summer holidays and during the football season?
I almost wished he had mustered the effort to come up with a more convincing story, like a sick grandmother, to garner some sympathy.
"A week ago, you told me you were going camping," I said, trying to keep my voice down so my roommate wouldn’t hear.
"What?" Lucas turned to face me, confusion etched on his face and then looked away. "Oh, I changed my mind."
I took a step closer, my voice trembling with emotion. "What’s going on, Lucas? Why are you lying to me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Would you just let it go? I’m so sick and tired of your suspicions."
I felt a sting from his dismissive tone. I wasn’t being paranoid. He was being deceitful. And possibly unfaithful.
"You are fucking lying to me!" I shouted, breaking into angry tears.
Lucas turned defensive. "What’s the big deal? I need a break, okay?"
I felt lightheaded. "A break from what? From me?" I glanced nervously at the closed bedroom door, hoping Sarah was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear us.
He yelled, "What’s wrong with you? For once, can’t it be something not about you?"
I was desperate and heartbroken, my emotions raw. Through tears, I pleaded, "Tell me where you’re going. Are you seeing someone else?"
Lucas’s voice boomed in a furious pitch, "Why would I cheat on you? I’ve already got my hands full with your bullshit!"
His words slapped me hard. I stood there, tears streaming down my face, my world crumbling. He looked at me, then kicked the chair and said, "I’m out of here," before slamming the door behind him.
Sobbing, I dropped to my knees, holding my mouth with one hand and my stomach with the other.
That was our very last fight.
September, 2020
We returned to Minneapolis in the afternoon. Nick was already waiting when we pulled up to his house, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, ready to go.
Our first stop was my apartment. I wasn’t sure how long the trip would take, but with only a couple of weeks left on my lease, there was no reason to come back. So, I decided to gather the rest of my belongings and move out.
I tried to usher all three of them out so I could pack in peace. There wasn’t much left to do, but it would still take a solid hour, and I preferred to do it without three pairs of eyes on me. Mitchell and June went to grab a bite nearby, but Nick lingered, ignoring my not-so-subtle hints to leave.
Thankfully, my roommates weren’t home. The last thing I needed was their curious glances at me and some guy I was bringing in—a situation that had never happened before.
I moved off-campus after dropping out, so they’d never seen me with anyone.
I didn’t care what they thought, but I was still relieved to avoid their judgmental stares.
Plus, no one was around for awkward goodbyes. We weren’t friends. We just coexisted.
"You can wait here if you want," I said, pointing to the couch in the common area shared with the kitchen. "My roommates aren’t home. I just need to make a few calls and rearrange plans."
He didn’t sit. I went into my room and started packing, apologising to my bosses over the phone for the short notice leave.
"Sorry for the mess," I called out to Nick once I hung up.
"Moving?" Nick guessed, and through the doorway, I saw him survey the room.
"Something like that." He made me feel like an insect under a microscope as I sat on the floor, struggling to focus. I secured one of the bags shut.
"Where are you going?"
"Home, to Ohio," I paused to tape up a box.
"You have family there?" Nick continued quizzing me about my personal life.
"Just my mom."
"No siblings?" he pressed, his tone neutral, making it hard to gauge whether he was genuinely interested or just filling the silence.
"It’s just my mom and I."
"What about your dad? He around?"
"Jeez, what’s up with the third degree?" I shot him a wry grin, amused by his serious tone.
"Just making small talk."
"Choose a lighter topic. My dad passed away."
"Sorry," he said, finally peeling himself away from the door and moving closer.
"You mind giving me a hand?" I pointed at the three boxes, a suitcase, and another Ikea bag full of stuff. Lucas’s gym bag was there, too.
He slung the blue bag over his shoulder and grabbed one of the boxes. I took the gym bag and the other box and then fished out a baseball bat from the corner. We’d have to make one last return.
"What’s up with that?" he asked as we headed down to the car.
The bat seemed out of place among the boxes and bags, sitting there without explanation.
I’d never been a fan of baseball, but my father was.
When I was a kid, he took me to practices and games, which I agonised through, too bored and uninterested to commit.
After he died, my mom got rid of most of his belongings—she hated clutter—but I managed to snatch his baseball bat and kept it ever since.
"It was my dad’s," I said simply, sparing him the pitying details.
"Are you looking forward to going home?" Nick asked on our way back up to collect the last of my things.
"Not really," I confessed, scanning the room one last time to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.
Nick hadn’t mentioned his father, and since we were already getting personal, I had the green light to ask. "Where’s your dad?"
"Don’t know, never met him." He was nonchalant.
Lucas would have made a terrible joke about Nick’s dad being a ghost, given that his mom was a psychic. I smiled to myself but didn’t say anything. The joke was stupid anyway.
We removed the last of my belongings from the apartment and loaded them into the car. And then, with deliberate slowness, I placed the key on the kitchen counter and gave the apartment a last withering look.
All ties to Minneapolis were officially cut.
Mitchell set strict rules: everyone took turns driving, and drivers switched every four hours, following a clockwise rotation. The driver had complete control of the music, while the passenger was responsible for navigation. No one dared argue with the former military man.
I drove first. Next to me, Mitchell was recounting a story about the goat to our extended audience. In the rearview mirror, Nick was reading something on his phone while June cast sidelong glances at him, which he ignored.
As we approached Chicago, traffic thickened.
Local drivers weaved recklessly through lanes, disrupting the flow.
Tired of both the dull scenery and my eclectic playlist, which mostly featured Skrillex, Nicki Minaj, and Taylor Swift, the group perked up at the first glimpse of the city.
But the skyline soon vanished, swallowed by the industrial outskirts.
June’s tense silence lingered, taut and ready, like a bowstring pulled too far, ever since Nick settled into the back seat near her. She’d managed to keep it in check for a while, but now, four hours later, that restraint cracked. She turned to Nick with an almost confrontational directness.
"So you just… moved back into your mom’s house after she died?" she asked bluntly, without attempting to smooth out the conversation.
"Around then, yeah, why?"
"It’s just weird that you’re only telling us now. Did you, like, go through your mom’s things?"
"I did." Nick ignored the first part of her sentence.
"And was there anything?"
"Like what?"
"I don’t know, you tell me," she goaded.
"There wasn’t anything related to your sister or Nell’s guy."
"Maybe anything weird or creepy that caught your eye?" June squinted.
Mitchell listened, not saying anything. I thought he’d interfere, considering how he tried to smooth things over between me and his sister. But this courtesy apparently didn’t extend to Nick.
"What, like a self-moving Ouija board? Or videotapes of my mom summoning the devil?"
"You said it."
"For fuck’s sake!" Nick exclaimed, covering his eyes with his hand. "No, there wasn’t anything suspicious. Just stupid books on manifestation and shit, and that’s about it."
But June kept pushing despite his outburst. "Why didn’t you just toss everything and leave?"
"Cause I was trying to do the right thing and make sense out of her paperwork, online store, and orders," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"The website’s still live," June said, her voice inquisitorial, like she was trying to catch him in a lie.
"I’m managing it now."
"What, now you’re the psychic?" she taunted.
"June!" warned Mitchell, but she didn’t react.
"I’m just handling her online orders, okay? I was going to shut everything down, but I didn’t. And she was no more a psychic than I am. So I was just being careful when you came around. Can we drop it?"
"Why, Nick, we’re just trying to get to know you." In the rearview mirror, I saw how June leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, and a smirk on her face. Somehow, she really got to him.
Nick sat diagonally behind me in the rear passenger seat, and I could practically feel waves of irritation radiating off him. "I didn’t sign up for a full-blown interrogation. So cut the crap."
Mitchell turned back, trying to protect his sister. "We just want to understand what we’re dealing with here."
"Can you try doing it without prying into every detail of my life?" Nick retorted and then added without changing his tone, "I haven’t asked you why you were kicked out of the military because I know it’s irrelevant."
Mitchell exploded, turning to face Nick. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Uh-oh. Mitchell never mentioned anything like that, and from what he told me, I understood that he simply resigned. Was Nick more informed, or was he just shooting in the dark? And if so, was this actually true?
"Guys," I interjected softly. However, no one seemed to notice or care.
For a second, I thought they might start a fight, but Mitchell locked eyes with him, sat back in his seat, and muttered, "Fucking asshole."
Cars were honking outside, adding chaos to the city’s noise. I was struggling to focus on the heavy traffic, trying to maneuver the Dodge out of it without causing any damage. Still, on the inside, I felt like throwing open the door and jumping into the frenzy of vehicles, ready to take my chances.
When I was six, my parents and I drove to Fort Myers, where my dad’s friend rented us a small boathouse for the week.
Somewhere along the way, my parents started bickering over something my dad had done wrong or forgotten to do.
After a heated exchange, they plunged into a sullen silence that lingered for hours.
This trip felt like a bad rerun, only now there were more people and even more tension. The acrid smell of exhaust seeped through the weak A/C, mingling with the silence and thickening the air. We were only a few hours into the drive, and I already dreaded what might come next.
I felt like a kid, listening to my parents’ endless arguments. I wasn’t willing to sit through it anymore.
Without saying another word, I took the nearest exit and pulled onto a quiet street with no traffic, stopped the car, and switched on the hazard lights.
Everyone looked at me. Mitchell asked, "What’s going on? Why did we stop?"
"We’re not going anywhere until you all stop bickering and start acting like adults." I crossed my arms over my chest and gave each of them a stern look. June looked away, but Nick held steady.
Mitchell took the liberty of breaking the tension, "Let’s grab a bite. It’s a crime to be in Chicago and not try deep-dish pizza. Heard so much about it."
"I agree with you on this one," Nick concurred, smoothing things over.
"Whatever, mommy," June muttered sarcastically.
Mitchell stifled a quiet laugh with a cough. I, secretly relieved, shook my head, catching Nick’s faint smile out of the corner of my eye.