Tell Me No Lies

A Polaroid

"sometimes memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks"

❀

Gemma

"Come on, you need it and so do I. It'll be fun, Gemma. I don't know why you've put yourself on house arrest."

I sigh softly, placing Tara on speakerphone as I trudge down the infinite staircase.
The echo that fills the house with each step sends a brief chill through me.

"I don't know either, Tara. I just feel weird since they left. I mean, they didn't even let me say goodbye. They just packed, and left. And now the house is empty—"

"And you don't have to deal with she-wolf's bullshit—"

"Yes, I know. But I can't help but feel weird about it. And different. I mean, why am I even bothered?"

I have this whole giant house to myself.
Mandy left me an amply stuffed envelope with money for groceries.
No reminders about which dishes are too precious to go in the sink.
No stepmonster waiting to pounce, just around the corner.

No dad who's grown unrecognizably cold.

I pause at the bottom of the steps, scanning my surroundings and rubbing my palm absentmindedly, the spot where my clenched nails had left their mark.

The list of benefits that comes with Mandy and Dad's absence goes on and on.

No wearing whatever Mandy wants me to wear, and no doing whatever Mandy wants me to do. Well, despite the long list of rules and regulations Mandy had left to govern me while she was away.

But it's not like there's a way she can enforce all that.

"Listen, some really bad stuff has happened to you, Gemma. You've had really bad luck in the family department," Tara replies, with her usual pinch of sarcasm. But knowing Tara, her intentions are sincere.

"No one goes through that without changing a little. Without getting hurt." she finishes.

Emotions churn in the pit of my stomach and flashes of things pushed aside claw at my mind.

"But, the good news is, I have the solution!"

"Ice cream and crappy television do not cure sadness, Tara." I scold.

"So, you admit you're depressed." she quips, half-jokingly.

"What? I never said I was—"

"Alright, that's it. I'm driving to your house, and I'm picking you up to watch crappy television and eat junk food with me. And there's nothing you can do about it, Gemma."

Certainly, junk food is the last thing I need.

"But—"

"No. You need to get out of your damn house!"

"Hey, I've left my house!" I exclaim defensively.

As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize my argument is faulty.

"Yeah, to work. And go to school. That doesn't count."