26. Archer
ARCHER
The heavy door of my family’s house closes behind me, enveloping me in a clinical environment that doesn't feel like a home. Even without my father's presence, there’s no warmth in the space, and I hate it. Rocking back on my heels, I acknowledge the fact that I’m back here.
It’s been a while.
Some things never change, like how this place makes me feel. It never fills me with any sense of joy; it just reminds me of pain. It threatens to seep into my bones and distract me from the task at hand, and I’m not here for a trip down memory lane.
My father isn't home. I made sure of it when I left Teddy on campus. After his revelation last night, we spent all morning tearing our lives apart, trying to understand everything, and after so much back and forth, I had to see my mother and sisters with my own eyes before I made a single call.
My father has been playing with our lives long enough, and I’ve always vowed vengeance, but it's not just my life I'm turning upside down; it's theirs too, and I need to know it's worth the carnage.
Pressing my lips together, I inhale sharply before calling out their names.
“Mom, Arabella?”
Footsteps pound from upstairs immediately, growing louder as they near the top of the staircase, and a few moments later, my sister appears, eyes wide as she screeches my name at the top of her lungs.
“Archer!”
She barrels down the stairs as my mom emerges from the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile on her lips.
We all move to the center of the foyer as one, embracing one another in silence as we take a moment to bask in each other’s presence.
I finally feel those sweet tendrils of home. It’s not a place for me, it’s people. These people.
I squeeze them tighter, desperate to hold on for as long as possible before my mother clears her throat.
“It's a surprise to see you,” my mother says, brushing her fingers through my hair just above my ear before she cups my cheek, and I lean into the embrace.
“I just had to see you guys,” I explain, hoping she doesn’t push further, and she doesn’t… for now.
“Come on then, let's go and have a cup of tea.”
My sister hums her agreement as our mother guides us into the kitchen. Arabella doesn't let go of me, wrapping her arm around mine as she walks at my side, and I’m happy to bask in her presence.
Glancing around the room, I notice it hasn’t changed a bit. The kitchen is just as clinical as the rest of the house, but I choose to pay it no mind as I take a seat at the island, focusing on my mother and sister instead.
My mother is wearing a white t-shirt and a loose pair of denim overalls, her hair scooped back in a curly mess, with a bandanna holding it off her face. There are a few smudgings of green on her denim, making it look like she'd been out in the garden for a while, and it makes me smile.
If my mother has the energy to go outside and garden, she's usually in a good headspace, and the garden always seems to optimize it.
Turning my attention to my sister beside me, I smile. Her hair is gathered in two small buns on top of her head, and her grin is infectious.
“Is that my t-shirt?” I blurt, staring at the old school campus logo I had from years ago, and she waves me off.
“You weren't wearing it,” she insists, and my grin widens.
I can’t argue with that, and it’s nice to see that I'm near, even when I'm not.
Taking our usual seats feels familiar, and I remind myself of the fact that there were happy memories in this space, at this island, when it was just the three of us. It's whenever my father looms his dark, dirty cloud over us that everything is tarnished.
At the thought of him, my memories drift back to my conversation this morning with Teddy.
“So, what are your plans for the day?” I ask at the same time my sister speaks.
“What brings you here?” Arabella quizzes, and I shake my head.
“Nothing much. I just wanted to see you, and you look adorable, of course. What have you been up to?”
She rolls her eyes at me, silently irritated by the fact that I treat her like she's five still and not fifteen.
“Nothing much,” she offers as my mother clears her throat.
“We were thinking of doing some arts and crafts this afternoon, now that the garden is done,” she explains from her spot by the stove, her collection of teas all out.
I don't need to ask for one, and she doesn't look for clarification. We both know the lemon and ginger tea has a way of making me a smidgen less of an asshole. But it hasn’t hit my lips yet as I frown, returning my gaze to my sister as I recall what day it is.
“What about your guitar lessons?”
The spoon clangs from where she stands as my sister's head dips.
My chest tightens with anticipation as Arabella tilts her head enough to look at me from the corner of her eye, her lips pressed in a thin line.
“Father canceled them,” she mutters, confirming my suspicions, and I rear back, still caught off guard by the truth in the air and the heat in my hand.
“He did what?”
She shrugs as my mother draws closer, whipping the kitchen towel over her shoulder before lacing her fingers together. “He was too busy and needed the detail for himself,” she mumbles, and my sister scoffs.
“He already has enough detail, but that's beside the point. The main issue is that Mom's license was revoked. She—”
“Wait, what? When?” I interject, and my mother grimaces.
Clearly, I'm not as up to date as I thought I was.
“I was going to tell you,” she starts, leaning against the countertop between us, and I shake my head.
“You don't have to explain yourself. I'm not him. But I am here to help you, Mom. When was the last time you guys left the house?”
The glance between them is answer enough, fueling me with rage as I drag my hand down my face. I don't think I can handle the truth, and I can't change what has already happened. I can only influence what will come.
“Do you want me to take you somewhere right now?” I offer, trying to recall where the nearest ice cream place is, but they both shake their heads.
My sister, however, keeps her gaze dipped, and that's a telling sign.
I turn my full attention to my mom, my eyes narrowing a fraction of an inch, and she exhales.
“If we leave the house, he'll take her with him next time,” she breathes, and my nostrils flare, anger brimming so hot I can't deny it.
“He can't fucking do this,” I snarl, clenching my hands together in my lap, desperately resisting the desire to slam them into the island. All that would do is instill fear in my mother and sister, and that's not what I'm here to do.
He can't isolate them like this. It's psychotic.
“It's okay, Archer,” my mother says, trying to reassure me, but there's no reassuring this. All it does is reconfirm everything I discussed with Teddy.
I thought I hated my father, but this is a step too far, and that’s not something I thought would still be possible after everything he’s already done.
Tension burns through me, seeping into my soul as I accept what has to happen.
He's left me with no choice. When he leaves my mother and sister in the ultimatum of isolation of predatory confinement or taking my sister with him on a trip, there’s nothing else I can do but play my hand.
That threat, if it came to fruition, would devastate my mother, send her into a spiral, just like he wants, so she can relapse, also just like he wants.
I don’t want that for her, but I don't want it for my sister either, because she should not be exposed to the things my father surrounds himself with.
“How about you entertain us with what's going on at the academy?” my mother says softly, trying to redirect us to better territory as she returns her attention to the teas lined up.
I take the bait, despite how much I don’t want to. “Nothing much,” I admit, struggling to entertain them as they want, and I grimace, while my sister plants her elbow on the table, leaning her cheek against her hand.
“Have you figured things out with your mate yet?” she asks, and I shrug.
“She found her powers. Or did they find her?” I ponder out loud, making my sister's nose crinkle.
“What does that even mean?” she pushes, and I drag my hand down my face before bracing my elbows on the table, crossing my arms as I inch closer, like it’s a secret.
“She's a phoenix.”
My sister gapes in surprise, her eyes wide with wonder as my mother brings our hot mugs over.
“The first of the Fifth Kingdom?” she clarifies, and I nod. “What kingdom was her mother from then?”
“Sorry?” I blurt as I rear back, confusion holding me captive as my mother clears her throat.
“I heard your father once say that phoenixes have historically been women, and she's the first of the Fifth Kingdom. Her mother must have been from another.”
I gape at her in shock as she easily offers a tidbit of information that unlocks another gate entirely.
How have none of us put that together already?
“That look on his face says he needs to go and sort it out,” Arabella muses, and I grunt.
“I’m not leaving you.”
My mother's eyes narrow as she plants her hands on the table between us. “Oh, you are. We've got this handled here. Go and do whatever it is you need to go and do.”
“Mom—” I start, but she wags her finger at me.
“That's right, I'm the parent here. Go!”
I wave my hands around at my sides, taking in the room that is grand, but lifeless and soul-destroying. “You can't carry on like this.”
“We won't. Don't worry, I'll call you tomorrow,” my mother insists, and my nostrils flare.
“Tonight,” I insist, and my mother cocks her brow at me.
“I heard you would be having a Rejuvenating Ceremony then.”
“How?” My nerve-endings fizzle as I try to figure out how she knows that, but all she does is tap her nose.
I want to press, but I don't want her to think I'm controlling like my father.
I toe the line enough as it is, but something as menial as this doesn't deserve the pressure.
Instead, I reach for my cup and down the lemon and ginger liquid like it's golden, before rushing around the table to wrap her in my arms.