Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
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"Neither of you ever played catch with me," Dad muttered, almost vengefully. "All those movies showed the good ol' parent bonding time of catching some balls, but—oh yes, it's sooo funny Tenn. You girls always said no to me."
"I did not!" I protested. "I played softball. You practiced with me all the time."
Dad spared me a pitiful glance. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up with a black eye. Kirishima was a saint for just going along with this.
"Your arm is too strong, honey," he muttered. "It scares me."
I scoffed, resting my arms on the deck's railing. "If you're scared of my arm, you should be more scared of his. He's playing nice with you. You should be grateful."
"Thank you for sparing my papa's life, Kiriii," Tenna called, standing on an ancient yellow swing. It wasn't tall enough for her, so her chin basically rested on the top slab of wood.
This was insane. Dad was surely going to get a black eye. The only lights were two lanterns on either end of the backyard and a faint trail of solar-powered garden lights, but they were a mess.
Some were completely shoved under the overgrown garden, while others appeared upside down. It was odd they hadn't started pulling the weeds, but maybe they'd been busy. The state of the world was pretty much up in the air each day, no matter if you were expected to stay inside the wall or stay outside of it.
For those stuck on the outside—they lost out on many things. Doctors, vets, superstores, specialty stores. The entire city was effectively off-limits, no matter that it took longer for most people to find another option for their basic supplies. I couldn't even imagine the nightmare of scheduling appointments.
What happened to the people who had really important surgeries scheduled?
"You've sprung this on us so fast," Mom said, finally pulling herself out of the deep trance state of mixing batter.
She stared down into the yard. I wonder what the neighbors would think if any of them were awake at this time. They weren't holding up their "normalcy" facade very well tonight.
"I know." I did know.
She sighed. "You know how I feel about sacrificing yourself for a man."
"I know, Momma."
"I raised you with the hope you would be independent and strong. That nobody would take your options away—not ever."
My fingers played with the grain of the deck's wood. Opposite from Bella's, this wood had been sanded and polished, with new coats of the deep cherry color added every few years.
"Well, I'm independent," I said dryly, "so you got half of what you wanted."
Finally, she turned to look at me. I had to force myself not to step back and away. Her soft blonde hair, tinged with silver and gray, her face with all those sunspots across her brow, that garish lipstick. She looked so frail, and a big part of me was ashamed to be the reason for it.
