Find You There

by Brianna Bennett

  “And what do you suggest I do? Sending Ricky away was supposed to help, but all it’s done is make things worse.” Luca had to swallow resentment when their dad used Rider’s given name instead of his preferred choice.

  “I can send a donation to the state hospital on Rider’s behalf,” Henry offered after a beat of silence. “In doing so, we can appear to care about mental health issues. It’s a win-win!”

  “Is there anything you think money can’t solve?” Dad asked tiredly.

  “It’s not about what I think, it’s about what I know works,” Henry replied, not answering the question but closing the office door all the same. Now that their voices were intelligible, Luca walked away, mind whirring with possibilities and suspicions. There’s nothing I can do right now, he told himself, and made his way to the basement as quietly as possible. Daisy had taken it upon herself to clean up the leftover popcorn and now dozed in her crate, one eye opening when Luca came into the room.

  “C’mere, Daisy,” he said, and the dog happily bounded up to him. Luca petted her until his troubles faded away. In fact, he fell asleep snuggling with her, just like he had when he was a child.

  Luca: You gonna be at the studio today?

  She quickly typed back that she would be visiting her mom.

  Luca: [frown] It won’t be the same without you there, but have fun with your mom!

  Her stomach did a cartwheel followed by a somersault. There’s no other way to interpret that than as a flirtation, right? she wondered, biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Ready to go?” Cadence poked her head into the room. Lyric hesitated, unable to shake the butterflies nesting in her belly. It’s just Mom. “So, last night—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Lyric stated immediately, and Cadence exhaled, reaching to the console to turn down the radio.

  “Tough. We’re talking about it. While I absolutely agree it was wrong of Dad to do that to us, especially without giving us time to practice, it’s not the worst thing he could’ve done.”

  “Pray tell, what could he have done aside from mortifying the three of us and Mom in one fell swoop?”

  “Lyric, it’s not that simple.”

  “God, you sound exactly like Rhythm! I thought we were on the same side on this! Dad’s been making decisions for us ever since we were little—why would he stop now? He was always more of a manager than a parent anyway. At least until we decided to ruin his fantasy of living vicariously through us.”

  “Even so, you shouldn’t have run like that last night. We had no idea where you went or if anything had happened to you, and then you turned off your phone so we couldn’t even get in touch. It’s a good thing that girl Carrie stopped us from calling the cops.”

  “As if they could’ve done anything,” Lyric muttered darkly. “You know they haven’t once followed up with me about my artwork? I knew they didn’t care, but they didn’t have to be so obvious about it!” Cadence pulled into the condominium’s parking lot, and Lyric shoved open her door and shut it with a slam. I should feel bad for that, but I really don’t. Why am I the only one who doesn’t have wool pulled over their eyes? She had been so immersed in frustration that she forgot she’d been nervous until she was outside of her mom’s condo, waiting for her to open the door after she’d knocked.

  “Lyric,” Elena said, a warm smile on her face despite the tension that existed between them. She gestured for Lyric to come in, and she did so, trying not to feel like an inmate when the door shut behind her. Elena’s condo was mostly open-style living, with carpeted floors and a beach theme throughout and alternating colors of sand, sky blue, and eggshell white. Dad went all out when he got her this place. “I changed the sheets for you,” Elena informed her awkwardly, staring at a spot over her head instead of meeting her gaze. “Do you want some tea? A snack? I figured we could order out for dinner . . . .”

  “I’m good. Um, is it actually okay if I get a shower? Rhythm and Cadence used all the hot water before I could get in.”

  “Of course, sweetheart.” Elena busied herself, puttering around the apartment.

  Lyric waited for the mirrors to fog up before she stepped under the warm water jets. She took her time, enjoying the spray of the warm water and imagining her troubles washing down the drain. By the time she got out and tied her hair into a towel turban, Elena had made herself some tea and turned on the electric fireplace despite the midsummer heat wave outside. “For ambience,” she explained. “It won’t warm the room, but it will make things feel cozier. Plus, Aphrodite loves to be warm.”

  “Aphrodite?” Lyric questioned, only for a Siamese cat to jump up from under the couch, peer at Lyric suspiciously, and curl into Elena’s lap.

  “About two months after I”—she hesitated to describe what had happened but seemed to settle on a proper phrase—“left home, I was going for a walk around the neighborhood and it hit me: I was lonely. I had no idea what was going on with your father, if he would even let me talk to any of you, or whether you would even want to bother with me . . . .” She trailed off but didn’t let the sentence linger. “I found her on the side of the road and took her in,” Elena explained. “She needed some time to get used to me, but once she did, I realized that she was what I’d been missing. Companionship without the emotional baggage.”

  “Do you think she’ll let me pet her?”

  “You won’t know unless you try. Put your finger out for her to smell, and then if she doesn’t hiss or anything, you can pet her. She especially likes behind-the-ear scratches.” Once they were comfortably seated on the couch, all it took was her mother asking how she was, and her internal dam came crashing down.

  She told her mother almost everything—her projects being destroyed, teaming up with Luca, the dead ends they kept arriving at. She couldn’t quite bring herself to talk about her sexuality yet. Elena sat with the information for a few torturous minutes, and the seconds prickled Lyric’s skin like multiple bee stings. “So . . . Luca. Do you . . . have feelings for him?” Elena asked hesitantly, and Lyric swallowed hard.

  “Honestly? I have no idea.” To her surprise, Elena smiled into her tea. “You look like you know something,” Lyric said suspiciously. I’m surprised she hasn’t brought up last night’s fiasco, but I’m also grateful at the same time.

  “I know quite a few things,” Elena replied evasively, tipping her head back to finish her tea. She set the mug on the coffee table and met Lyric’s gaze for the first time.

  “I’m smiling because you remind me so much of me back when the board at our music school asked for details about my relationship with your father.” Lyric froze. Her parents never talked about the Great Disgrace. “I’m not predicting that your relationship with Luca is doomed to the same fate as ours—I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy—but looking at you right now is like looking in a mirror back then. I was headstrong to a fault, but reticent too.”

  “How did you know that you’d made the right choice?” Lyric asked before she could stop herself. Elena shrugged daintily.

  “I suppose no one could’ve told me otherwise. I believed myself in love, so I did what any lovestruck barely adult would’ve done.”

  “Would you go back and change anything if you could?” Elena considered her question for a few moments but ultimately shook her head.

  “If I hadn’t made that decision or the many tough calls that came after that, I wouldn’t have the three of you.” Lyric broke eye contact, and Elena stared into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. “I have an idea: Why don’t we have a spa day? Just stay inside and pamper ourselves?”

  “That sounds amazing.” They gave each other pedicures and wore face masks until the masks cracked like cement. They shared secrets, laughed, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. A few hours later, Lyric’s stomach rumbled in protest at its emptiness, and Elena laughed softly. “I have to ask: How much of Dad’s plot did you know about? You know, last night’s . . .” Lyric spun her hand in a circle
, searching for the right word.

  “Debacle?” Elena filled in, adjusting herself and taking what seemed like hours to decide on her answer.

  “Sure, that’s a good word for it.” Lyric nodded. “So . . . ?”

  “I’ll admit, I knew he was planning something. You can’t be married for twenty years and not pick up on the other person’s idiosyncrasies. I had no idea he was going to embarrass the three of you like that, though. If I’d known, I would’ve talked him out of it. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me, other marital issues aside.”

  “He is a master strategist,” Lyric said idly, and Elena snorted. “Knowing that, you’d think he’d be better at thinking ahead.” They stared at each other for a long thirty seconds and bust out laughing incredulously. Lyric’s heart could’ve burst from the happiness of it all. It almost made her feel guilty for the final bombshell that she was about to drop.

  Almost.

  Henry Sanderson had long ago learned how to forge Richard’s signature, so writing out checks was as easy as reciting the alphabet. It was how he’d been able to maintain his house for so many years even though he and Carrie were rarely there. He also knew how to cover his tracks and make it so that no one was ever the wiser. Once he finished signing this round of checks, he leaned back in his large leather chair and smiled to himself. Someday soon, all of my hard work will pay off. I know it.

  “Mom, I have a confession to make.” Elena smiled encouragingly. “I’m . . . well, I’m asexual, but more specifically . . . I’m demisexual. It means I don’t develop a sexual attraction to someone until I’ve formed an emotional bond.” Elena chuckled nervously, and Lyric focused on her breathing.

  “I don’t mean to laugh at you, but isn’t that the same for everyone?” She’s not dismissing me outright. She’s actually attempting to listen and understand. Luckily, I have a plan for this rebuttal.

  “I also don’t think about sex as often as your average person. In fact, it has no appeal to me whatsoever unless I have someone special in my life.” Unbidden, Luca’s face appeared in her mind, but she shoved that thought down. We don’t have time for that right now. “I don’t have the same . . . needs . . . as the average person, and I’m okay with that.”

  “What about having kids? I’ve always thought you were the most maternal of your siblings.” Lyric shrugged, panic clawing at her despite her calm façade. She forced herself to breathe and swallow the lump in her throat until it vacated her airway completely.

  “There’s always adoption.”

  “But they won’t be your kids.”

  “They may not share my blood or genes, but I would love them as much if not more than you love us.” Elena was silent for what seemed like eons, and Lyric swallowed several times to keep from crying. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. She has enough going on.

  “I’m glad you told me,” said Elena, as if reading Lyric’s mind. “It may take some time for me to get used to the idea, but I’m willing to try.”

  “That’s all I ask,” Lyric replied, and Elena leaned over for a hug. Lyric returned it, and they spent the rest of their time together chatting about less important topics until it was time to go to sleep.

  The following morning, Lyric woke to the scents of cinnamon, bacon, and syrup floating into the guest bedroom. She yawned until her jaw cracked, rubbing her eyes and glancing at her phone for the time: 9:32 a.m. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past eight, the day of her art’s destruction notwithstanding. She made her way into the bathroom, scrolling through her phone’s notifications as her brain booted up for the day.

  Once her morning routine was done, she went out to the kitchen to find her mother dancing along to a song on the radio, eyes closed as she let the music waft over her. Something about her seems different. Lighter. Happier. Compared to her dad, who seemed absolutely miserable but too stubborn to do anything about it, Elena was a ray of sunshine. Lyric sat down at the breakfast bar and yawned again. Elena turned and smiled at her. The difference between them is staggering. Dad barely looks at me these days—not that I see him often enough to give him the chance, but still.

  “Good morning, honey. Sleep well?”

  “Like a log,” Lyric answered. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure you can. Ask me anything.”

  “Are you and Dad going to get back together?” Elena’s demeanor immediately changed, and Lyric fought the impulse to take back her question. She said I could ask her anything. I have to know. I deserve to know. The spatula Elena had been holding clattered noisily against the metal pan, and Lyric opened her mouth to say something—anything—but closed it when her mother spoke.

  Chapter Nine

  “You were so young the last time I had a flare up, you didn’t see the toll it took on your father. He wouldn’t let you see it.” She sighed, staring into the pan where French toast sizzled. “You deserve honesty, no matter how much it hurts, so: no, probably not.”

  “Did he go on a bender then too?” Lyric didn’t want to judge or be bitter, but it was hard not to when the only time she saw her dad anymore was in between his trips to the liquor cabinet.

  “He’s always struggled with alcohol,” Elena replied evasively. Lyric let it go, watching as her mother scooped pieces of French toast onto a plate for her. Her stomach roared its approval, and she dug in.

  “You missed my ninth birthday party because of your chemo treatments.” She swallowed her bite of food. “It was my first sleepover.” Elena’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t say anything. “I know you would’ve been there if you could,” she added quickly, hoping to assuage any lingering guilt.

  “I know it’s not my fault, and I don’t blame myself as much as I used to. If anything, I blame the supposed experts who still haven’t found a cure.” Elena served herself from French toast and sat across from her daughter. Lyric stuffed more food into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to say anything. She let her mother change the subject from there, choosing to focus on the flavors of French toast rather than the uncertainties of the future.

  When Rhythm came to get her later that day, she knew something was wrong the minute she got into his car. His lips were pursed, shoulders bunched up, and most worryingly, he’d driven to Elena’s apartment in utter silence. He hadn’t even plugged his phone in, just thrown it into the cupholder.

  “Ry?”

  “Steph broke up with me. I don’t want to talk about it.” Lyric scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, focusing on the slight discomfort so she wouldn’t feel compelled to pry. “I’m sorry in advance if I act like a dick. I didn’t get a lot of sleep, and it just . . . came out of nowhere.”

  Instead of saying anything, Lyric mimed zipping her lips closed and throwing the imaginary key over her shoulder. The childish action surprised a laugh from Rhythm, and he put the car into drive, peeling off toward the interstate.

  Guilt ate at him like termites devouring wood, and he wondered how much longer he would be able to withstand the regret he felt every time he looked at her. She had done nothing to deserve what he had done, and yet he’d done it anyway. What kind of person was he? Blaming his turmoil on others had never served him well in the past; he wasn’t sure why he’d thought it would help him now. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? Did that make him insane?

  The next day, a Monday, Luca invited Lyric to the dojo to hang out while he trained. He knows I don’t want to be home right now, she thought, her stomach swooping at the thought of seeing him again after the last time. If she put a little bit more effort into her appearance than she normally would’ve, that was a secret for her and her alone to know.

  She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, trying not to stare at Luca too actively, as that would be creepy. Every time he caught her eye, though, her mouth went dry, and he would occasionally wink like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Sweat poured off of him like water from the edge o
f Niagara Falls, but he relished the feeling as he worked through his movements.

  He loved the way his muscles stretched, his mind filling in the blanks for what he hadn’t memorized. Eventually, his training routine was finished, and he made his way over to Lyric, scrubbing a gym towel through his sweat-soaked hair. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but his phone buzzed in his pocket, so he grabbed that instead.

  “Rider?” His eyes grew comically wide. “Oh, shit. Okay. I’m at the dojo with Lyric—shut up. Do you want me to pick you up or not? I have to shower, but I’ll be there soon.”

  “What’s up?” Lyric got to her feet, grimacing as her body protested the movement after hours of stillness.

  “My brother—” He broke off, sounding like a child who’d won a surprise trip to Disney World. “He’s being released, and he asked me to pick him up.”

  “That’s awesome!” she said, and she meant it. She’d never met Rider personally, but she knew he was important to Luca. I may have my issues with my dad, but I can’t imagine him ever forcing me away from Cadence and Rhythm. She noted the faraway look in Luca’s eyes.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!” She shoved him lightly, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her flush against his chest.

  “In a minute,” he murmured. He stared into her eyes for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss her. She returned the kiss, his sweat soaking into her shirt. She pulled back after a few minutes, blinking to reorient herself. “Go shower. You stink,” she told him, scrunching her nose in displeasure. He laughed but acquiesced, jogging toward the men’s locker room without another word. Lyric watched him go, letting herself enjoy the movement of his muscles until he got too far away to admire properly.