Celia

6 House Rules

Celia

Thankfully, the next morning I don't have to help my grandma with the garden, so I won't be late to work like yesterday.

She struggles with her knees, but taking care of herbs is her favorite pass time— aside from playing poker with me. So if I didn't help, I'd feel guilty all day.

After yesterday's intense events, I need a layer of protection and opt for a loose t-shirt to drown myself in, pairing it with boyfriend jeans and sneakers.

Any hope of slipping unnoticed vanish when I enter the kitchen and find my dad with his Bible notes and a cup of espresso.

"Saw Alex drop you off yesterday, how is he?" he asks.

"Fine." I focus on the tea kettle under the faucet, pouring the bare amount of water needed.

"Have you considered his proposal?"

"There's nothing to consider."

"Really? I'm surprised you haven't jumped at the chance." He leans back, a glint of mockery in his eyes. "Moving to live in New York... away from me..."

"You forgot about getting married?" I emphasize as the air becomes stale.

"And why not? You grew up together, his dad is a close friend and very important—"

"I will not escape one prison for another." My voice shakes. I hate myself for letting him get under my skin. Perhaps, because it's something I contemplate. Of being so helpless that I might have no choice but to go through with it.

"Why, so you can stay and babysit someone else's kid?" He chuckles. "Of course you'd work for a tatted up, long-haired man. Is he even paying you or are you just wasting time?"

"My only waste of time has been this conversation." I give up on the tea kettle and open the cabinet for a Pop-Tarts.

"Of course, I'm a waste except when it comes to using my house and everything in it."

I put the Pop-Tarts slowly back, closing the cabinet. Shaking my head, I pass him to get to the door.

"You have to act reckless to prove your point, don't you?" He drills, halting me by the open door. "Do you even know anything about this guy? Do you know why he's here? Do you know why he's single?"

"No, dad." I look at him absently. "But I know he didn't make his wife kill herself."

I slam the door behind me, rushing down the steps only to be stopped by my grandma in the garden who insists on giving me a wrapped flatbread with cheese, knowing I'm leaving on an empty stomach again.

I take it so she doesn't get upset, but feed it to the stray dogs lingering around once I reach the alleyway.

As I get on the main road, I hope that Gio doesn't come home early today. I don't want to have another argument, I don't think I can.

The ride back home with Alex yesterday triggered old wounds. As much as I try to not show it, I miss who he used to be when we were little. He was my only friend and I lost him after losing my mom. It was my fault, partially, but it was also the abuse happening at his home. He changed, had to change.

But he's never hurt me. That's what gives hope that he might change once he's out of here. Or not. I don't know, maybe living here has lowered my standards of human decency.

I hope not. Otherwise, what does that mean about me? Would my mom recognize me if she was still here? Would she love me?

I shake my head to erase these thoughts, but they still linger. So I sink my teeth into my cheek, coating my tongue with blood.