MATTERS ARISING

Selena

I had been dreading this moment. For the first time, I was scared to go home.

The drive back felt longer than it ever had before and it didn't feel like the feeling was going away.

I pulled into the driveway, the house looming in front of me like a cage, its windows dark and still. I sat there for five minutes, watching, waiting, trying to convince myself that everything was fine. But the quiet only felt unnatural, like a storm was gathering just beneath the surface. 

Finally, I gathered the courage to step out of the car. I slipped through the front door that evening, hoping the silence of the house would swallow my presence, but it wasn't the comforting calm I expected. It was heavy, almost suffocating.

As soon as I stepped into the hallway, my mother's voice shattered the stillness, making my heart skip a beat. 

"Why was your phone switched off all day?" she demanded, her voice tight with worry. "And where were you? I was sick with worry, thinking something terrible had happened to you." 

I froze, panic rising in my chest. "Easy, Mom," I muttered, forcing a calm tone. "I can only answer one question at a time." 

"Good. Start talking." She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing in a way that only mothers can. 

I felt a tight knot form in my stomach. I was about to lie, and I could feel the lie curling up inside me, ready to slip out. I prayed my emotions wouldn't betray me. 

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I began, my voice steady but betraying an edge of unease. "I didn't get a chance to charge my phone while I was out, and I called the office to ask for the day off, but they denied it." 

Her gaze intensified, and I could feel her eyes drilling into me, trying to pierce through my story. "I see. Come with me." She motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen. Once we were alone, she dropped her voice low, a dangerous calm settling over her. "Why did you lie to me this morning about going to work?" 

I swallowed. "You know how it is, Mom," I muttered, rubbing my temple as though that might ease the pressure. "I didn't lie to you. I only said that to Victor to get him off my back." I set my backpack down on the counter, the sound of it hitting the granite sharp in the silence. 

"But it was important he spoke with you this morning, Sweetheart," she said, her expression softening just slightly. 

"What could be so urgent, Mom?" I snapped before I could stop myself. "I understand if he has some reservations about what happened at the city library, but what's the big deal? Why can't he just tell you to tell me like he always does? You said we needed to talk too." 

She shot me a look that silenced me in an instant. "Keep your voice down," she hissed, glancing quickly around the kitchen, making sure no one was listening. "It's just the two of us talking. Don't raise your voice." Her eyes flicked to the window, scanning the yard for any prying eyes.

"Where is everyone, by the way?" I asked, brushing past her comment, my tone sharp. 

"Your father's in his study; Clara in her room," she answered, her voice strained.

"He's not my father," I snapped, the defiance sharp in my tone, as I met her gaze head-on. 

She didn't flinch. Instead, she took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging slightly before she spoke again, her words slow but heavy with urgency. "What I wanted to talk to you about this morning... I need the car back."

I stared at her in disbelief. "You mean my car!" I exclaimed, feeling the shock ripple through me. 

"Technically, it's still mine," she shot back, holding up a hand to stop me before I could protest. "Just hear me out. I can't keep up with the mortgage payments on the new car." 

"Then ask Victor to help you out!" I practically shouted. 

She gave me a stern look, her voice dropping low. "I told you to lower your voice." 

"Sorry," I groaned, frustrated. "But why would he want you to tell me that? And why... why does he own a company that could easily finance the car but lets you pay the mortgage? Who does that to his wife?" 

"First, we have an arrangement," she muttered, her face hardening. "I pay some of my bills, and he handles the rest. Plus, I work for the company and can save more if I have my car. Do you understand?" 

I rubbed my temples, my patience wearing thin. "So how am I supposed to get to school every day? I didn't ask for this life. I told you I wanted to live near the school, but Victor insisted I go to school from home. Now, you expect me to wake up earlier just to catch the bus?" 

My mother stepped closer, her hand gently brushing my cheek. "I know it's hard, but you have to understand. We're a family. We need to stick together." 

"It just feels like I'm the only one making all the sacrifices," I muttered, the lump in my throat growing. "Clara has a car and still lives in her apartment. Why can't I have a simple car?" 

She reached for my arm, her gaze intense. "We need to be strong and face this together. If we avoid it, it'll only get worse." 

I narrowed my eyes, feeling a shift in the air. "What exactly aren't you telling me?" I asked, "I saw the look on Victor's face at breakfast." 

"The company's struggling," she said softly, the weight of her words heavy in the air. "He has a plan. I'm sure he'll pull through." 

"Alright, you can have the car," I muttered, a hollow feeling settling in my chest. I hugged my mother, trying to push away the unease gnawing at me. 

I grabbed my bag, ready to head to my room, when the sound of footsteps froze me in my tracks.