The Weight of Love

Chapter 7

Lila woke to a pounding on her bedroom door and Robert's angry voice outside.

"I can't believe what you've done! You owe me a major fucking explanation for this! Do you hear me? Open the fucking door!"

She scrambled to her feet, bedclothes trailing behind her. She was reaching for the door handle when the door burst open with considerable force, hitting her and knocking her backward.

"Oh, Jesus," Robert said, momentarily shocked out of his anger. His frame filled the doorway. "I'll get you some ice for that. What the fuck happened to my back door?"

"It was Cameron," Lila said, her voice thickening as her lip began to swell. She put a hand up to it. "We went out to practice driving, and the doors were locked when we got here."

"Why the hell didn't you call me? And your mother was asleep just inside!"

"We did call you. He tried. Check your phone, you'll see." She caught a glimpse of herself in her vanity mirror. Her lip was swelling, turning purple. "I need ice. Mom was drunk. She didn't even wake up when he broke the glass. He said you can send him the bill."

Robert swore, turning away from her.

"What a fucking stand-up guy, huh. He could've at least texted me about it. Now I have a hangover and I have to call the handyman. Let me get you some ice for that."

Downstairs, he gave her a small ice pack. She pressed it to her face in the bathroom, her reflection staring back at her from the mirrored medicine cabinet. Just last night she'd stood here with Cameron, watching him pull glass from his cut. It turned out she had had a price to pay, too, in the form of a busted lip. She looked like she'd been slapped. She had been slapped, just not by a hand. By a door. A fucking door. Thank God graduation had come and gone.

She absolved Robert of it. He had become more apologetic, anyways. After he called the handyman, he leaned over the kitchen counter, looking at her. She avoided his gaze, staring instead at the yellow roses, confirmation that yesterday's events had been real and not imagined.

There was, of course, also the broken door, through which a pleasant morning breeze issued.

"At least you cleaned up the glass," Robert said at last, and let out a short laugh. "I didn't even realize you went driving with him. Just knew the two of you took off a little while before us. I must've been so busy keeping track of your mother that I missed you, girlie."

"Where's Mom now?" Lila asked.

"Sleeping it off upstairs." He exhaled loudly. "What a night, huh? He's a real stand-up guy, that Cameron Winthrop. And he's taken a shine to you, wouldn't you say?"

Lila shifted back and forth where she was leaning against the counter, uncomfortable. She searched her stepfather's face for any sign that he knew more than he should, but the question seemed an innocent one.

"Yeah," she said. "I mean, I'm glad he's teaching me to drive."

"I'm glad, too." Robert rolled his eyes to heaven. "Now I've just gotta convince the man to sign me over some money as a grant for the new project."

Lila felt slightly ill at the thought. She went over to the cabinet and took out cereal, then got the milk from the fridge. It was skim, and she wrinkled her nose at it.

"Want some?" she asked Robert, who was scrolling through his phone.

"Sure," he said, glancing over. He looked a little skeptical. "So you've developed an appetite, huh. Doctor will be happy."

She flushed, before realizing that he likely didn't remember the exact nature of the comments he had made to her the night before. She expected that both he and her mother had a spotty memory of their evening experience, and maybe it was for the better. They ate their cereal in uneasy silence. It was near nine o'clock, and bright sunlight streamed in through the window over the sink.