Lying Out Loud(64)

I told them I had Gert. I told them I could go alone. I told them not to worry.

But they wouldn’t hear it.

We pulled into the driveway around noon, and even though it was surprisingly sunny for the beginning of March, everything about my house seemed dark and gray. Like it was haunted. Like there was a permanent shadow hanging over it, clinging to the tree branches in the front yard.

“You don’t have to come in,” I said, forcing myself to sound confident. “I can talk to Mom on my own.”


“Is she even here?” Mrs. Rush asked. “There’s no car in the driveway.”

“She’s … she’s probably at work,” I said. “She’ll be home soon. I have my key, so …”

“Why don’t we wait with you,” Mr. Rush said. It wasn’t a question, though. He and Mrs. Rush wasted no time unbuckling their seat belts and getting out of the car.

But I stayed, frozen in the backseat.

No.

No, it couldn’t happen like this.

“Come on, Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said, opening the door next to me. “It’ll be okay. I know it’s probably scary to confront your mom, but that’s why we’re here.”

But that wasn’t what was scaring me.

I climbed out of the car, trying to keep my composure as panic bubbled in my stomach. I fumbled for my key, which had spent months at the bottom of my purse, unused, unwanted. I hesitated before sliding it into the lock.

“I appreciate you coming with me,” I said. “But really, you don’t have to stay. It … it’ll probably be better if I talk to her alone. I can call you after —”

“I think we should be here,” Mr. Rush said. “Based on what you told us before, your mom has a tendency to overreact. If we’re here, maybe she’ll keep a cooler head.”

“We just want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mrs. Rush said, ruffling my hair a little. “Let’s go on inside, Sonny. It’s cold out here.”

My hands were shaking so hard. “You really don’t have to —”

“We know,” Mr. Rush said. “But we want to.”

With both of their eyes on me, I had no other choice but to unlock the front door and let them inside.

The living room was dark, the blinds drawn, and the stale odor of it nearly suffocated me. I shivered in my jacket. It wasn’t much warmer inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. and Mrs. Rush glance at each other, and the panic rose up into my throat.

“My mom might be a while,” I said. “She works weird hours.”

“We can wait,” Mr. Rush said, but there was a skeptical tone to his voice. He sat down on the couch, a puff of dust rising around him. He had the grace to pretend he didn’t notice. “Come sit with me. We’ll wait together.”

“Um …” I looked over at Mrs. Rush, who seemed to be scoping out the place, her eyes investigating every corner of the living room. “You know, my mom might not be okay with coming home to find so many people in the house. You don’t know this about her, but she’s really an introvert. This might be too overwhelming and —”

“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said, “is there something wrong?”

“No.” But my voice cracked. “No, I’m just worried my mom won’t be okay with this when she gets home. I really should just talk to her myself.”

“It’s so dark in here,” Mrs. Rush said. “Let me get the light.”

“No!”

But it was too late. She’d flipped the switch on the wall.

And nothing had happened.

“Sonny,” Mrs. Rush said quietly, “is there no electricity here?”

“No … the bulb’s just burnt out.”

“The heat’s not on either.”

“Mom likes it cold.”

“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said.

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You two need to go.”

“No one’s been here in months, have they?” Mrs. Rush asked. Her voice was so soft, so gentle, that it hurt.

I tried to laugh, but it came out maniacal and cold. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mom’s here every day. She’ll be home soon.”

Mr. Rush stood up and walked over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to lie to us. Just tell us what’s going on, okay?”

And that’s when it broke, every ounce of cool I’d kept over the past few months. Maybe it was this house. Maybe it was the unwavering kindness in Mr. Rush’s voice. Maybe it was being told not to lie for the thousandth time. But it just snapped and fell away.

And there was no way to pull together the pieces now.

“Nothing’s going on!” I screamed. It left a sharp ache in my throat, and tears spilled from my eyes. “It’s fine. Just go!”

“Sonny —”

“Go!” I pushed Mr. Rush’s hand off my shoulder. “Get out!”

“Sonny!” Mrs. Rush gasped.

“Get out!” I screamed again, stomping my foot and clenching my fists, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Get out! Get out! Get the f*ck out!”

“Sonya!” Mrs. Rush grabbed my arm, but I yanked it away.