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CHAPTER TWO DAUGHTER DUALITY
The numbers coming after the dollar sign on the computer screen stares back at me through the safety of the American Airlines website.
The irritable ring of sitcom laughter wafting from the television behind me is infuriatingly ironic. The coffee machine sounds from its cleaning cycle, light flickering on. I slam the laptop lid down, shoving the device away from me.
Cupboards and draws thump open and close under my angry hands. One grand return for a three day trip out to Sacramento? Plus car hire? It had been under half of that when we'd gone out there little over a year ago. I slam the coffee mug regrettably hard under the coffee machine.
My heavy body slumps against the bench when the machine starts to whirl with grinding beans, dropping my face into my hands. I'd just caught him on his way out when I'd woken up this morning. I hadn't slept well, and I hated that he could tell. He'd kissed me goodbye on the forehead and prompted looking at having a look around for flights out there, but not so much that I'd get engrossed. Obsessed, as he called it once in an argument, apologising for it immediately after he'd said it. But it was the truth, wasn't it? Every time I got wind of trouble from the three of them out there; alone in that horribly isolated cabin, old instincts kicked in. Ones I will never rid myself of, because I was raised to survive on them. To look out for somebody who was in the same boat, sailing across the same ocean I'd struggled on at that age. I wouldn't stop until I was satisfied that I'd helped her enough, which was a pointless, dare I say narcissistic venture; I knew this was all so much bigger than me.
The cheerful shrill of our landline phone picks up from the kitchen bench by the microwave. I set my coffee down so fast the liquid hadn't touched the surface before I'd rushed to pluck the phone from its handle, bringing it to my ear.
'Hello?'
'Hi there, is this Alex Anderson's residence?' someone asks.
