Chase
Page 1
Chase
Book ONE of the Willow Series
Kate Breuer
For anyone who has something to lose.
Fight for what matters.
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I
Wednesday
1
Chase
The shrill ringing of the doorbell interrupts our argument. I curse and stomp toward the front door. I breathe deep in a fruitless attempt to contain my anger.
How can he tell me to trust the system? Dale should know better. He knows what they did.
With my mind on the unresolved argument with my husband, I pull back my shoulders, force a smile, and open the front door. I look at the rain-soaked couple standing in the hall and wave them inside.
If I had known my mood would be this bad when they got here, I would have canceled. I wish I had. Mira and Tien are over for dinner a lot, but today I’m not really in the mood for a happy dinner with friends. I would rather shake Dale until he sees sense. With an enormous effort, I pull myself together and push all thoughts regarding our government as far into the back of my mind as possible.
I turn to greet Tien and Mira, who hover in the hallway, a little lost at my less-than-warm welcome, their rain-soaked clothes dripping onto the grayed carpet. I take their coats and hang them onto the hooks by the door, avoiding a look at the mirror. I don’t want to see how bad of a job I did at making myself presentable in the middle of an argument. I pulled my hair into an untidy bun earlier, but I bet my damn curls are shooting off in all directions anyway.
“Oh, don’t you look happy to see us.” Tien’s voice pulls me from my preoccupation about how much of a mess I am.
“I’m sorry, guys. I was . . .” I start without any clue as to where I am going with the sentence. My voice trails off, and I look up with an apologetic smile. When I see Tien’s face split into a wide grin, his eyes vanishing into slits, I relax.
“You’re pale, dear,” Mira adds and strokes a stray hair out of my face.
I know I am. It’s amazing how pale someone with my golden complexion can get when stressed and building up a sleep deficit that would take multiple weekends to recover. As if to make me feel worse, Mira looks as impeccable as ever. Her short black curls always frame her deep brown face in exactly the right way, whereas I have trouble getting mine to behave at all. It’s not fair.
Mira looks at me questioningly, and I pull her into a hug. “Later,” I whisper into her ear, and she squeezes me a little tighter in response.
When I reach over to hug Tien, a squeal behind me makes all of us turn. My daughter storms into the small hallway and hugs Mira and Tien. Together, we walk into our small living room, careful not to step on any of Willow’s toys.
Dale is sitting at the kitchen table, and my eyes find his. He sits a little slumped, his head hanging, and I can tell he is sorry. For a moment, I hope our argument might be over, but I know better and dread the time when Mira and Tien go home. A few minutes ago, I wished I had canceled on them, and now I hope they’ll never leave. The human brain is a strange thing indeed.
Willow is running around the table in circles with her arms spread wide and almost knocks Mira over as she pulls the tall woman into another hug. “Mira! Mira, I built a castle! Come! Look!”
She pulls Mira with her into the bedroom. I follow them, leaving the men in the kitchen. Willow is chanting, “I built a castle,” over and over. Mira and I laugh. My daughter sure knows how to get attention, and maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to Mira before dinner while we’re in here.
I watch Willow and Mira as they crawl into Willow’s makeshift castle. She spent all day building her little hideout with anything and everything in her reach around the apartment and begging for a few things higher up until Dale or I obeyed and gave her what she wanted.
A ragged blanket hangs between two chairs with a broomstick propping up the entrance. Willow has spread mismatched pillows and blankets over the floor between the chairs, creating a cozy, tent-like hideout—her castle.
Willow pulls Mira close and whispers something in her ear. Mira turns to tickle the girl, her booming laugh joining the girl’s giggles. I watch them silently. I’m not sure Willow knows I’m here, or she would have tried to include me in this tickle fight.
Mira looks over Willow’s shoulders at me, and she asks Willow to find more pillows to make the hideout even more comfortable.
“Why don’t you go check on your dad’s bed?” I suggest, and Willow runs out of the room.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Mira pats the pillow next to her. “What’s wrong, honey?”
I sigh and sink into the cushions. “It’s Dale. He’s being an idiot.”
“So just Dale being Dale?” Mira asks with compassion and a joking undertone. She’s heard me complain about Dale more times than I care to admit.
I shake my head. “No, it’s more than that. I’m really worried about Willow’s test. It’s coming up, and I don’t know . . . I have a bad feeling.”
Willow is turning five on Friday, and five is the age at which the yearly exams begin. From then on, the government-mandated “wellness checks” are repeated every year. I have to admit, I have no idea what the tests do or what their purpose is, but they decide everything. They decide what job you are assigned, who you’ll be matched with, which part of town you’ll live in—basically your whole life.
I might hate Dale today, but I am one of the lucky ones. I was matched with Dale seven years ago, and while I cannot imagine falling in love with him, living with him is easy. Well, most of the time it is. Today, all I want is to get away from everything.
“Why are you worried? Isn’t the test routine? I mean, it’s going to be years before any big decisions are made, right?”
“I don’t know. I feel as if something will go wrong.”
“And Dale?”
I snort. “Dale thinks I should trust the system. As if I could decide to trust. It’s not that easy.”
Willow runs back into the room and jumps headfirst into the narrow, rectangular opening in the wall. Her head lands somewhere in the middle of our sleeping pod, and her feet dangle out. She giggles with joy and crawls in farther to grab my pillow from the end of the bed.
Dale and I keep up the appearance of being a happy couple during the day, but sharing a bed with him would be too much. So I share the sleeping pod with her.
I remember the first apartment they moved us into. It only had one double pod, and Dale slept on the couch every night and woke up with a sore neck. Things got a lot easier when we were moved into this apartment with its second bedroom after I got pregnant. If the topic ever comes up, we tell people Dale snores horribly, and I can’t stand another night in the same bed without strangling him.
Ha.
Though I’m sure if that was the truth, we’d hear him since his pod is directly above ours, just open to the other side.
I grab Willow’s feet and pull her off the bed. She giggles and tries to escape my hold. After getting her all the way out, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. She laughs and continues her escape attempts. I put her down next to Mira, who immediately joins my tickle attack.
After a while, we lie with Willow cuddled up between Mira and me. “I love your tent. It is very cozy.” Mira yawns. “I wish I could sleep here tonight.”
Wi
llow pulls herself into a seated position and holds up one finger. “First of all, this is a castle.” Willow pushes her chin up and snorts as if calling her castle a tent was an unforgivable affront.
She adds another finger. “Second of all, you can sleep here whenever you want.” She looks pointedly at me. In the shade of the blankets above, her dark blue eyes look completely black. She gives me a look that begs me to invite Mira to stay.
To my relief, Mira saves me before I have to come up with an excuse. “I’m sorry, cutie. I can’t. My mom needs me at home. Plus, I think your mom might want her blanket back tonight.”
Willow purses her lip and crosses her arms, but after a moment releases them, shrugs, and says, “Okay,” as if she had never been disappointed.
Sometimes, I cannot believe how cute my daughter is. As I look at her tent—sorry, her castle—I cannot help but be proud. Willow is such a smart little girl, always building and creating things, and she enjoys taking things apart at least as much.
“Girls, dinner is ready,” Dale calls, and Willow darts out of the room, nearly knocking down her castle on the way out.
I grab one of the pots from the stove and carry it over to the kitchen table. I catch Dale’s gaze on the way. I set the pot down with a little too much force. A few splatters of sauce sprinkle the table. I look up and see Mira raise her eyebrow at me.
“Whoops,” I say, a little too late, but no one challenges my weak cover-up.
We sit down, and after a few moments of forced small talk about who wants vegetables with their sauce, an uncomfortable silence falls, interrupted only by the clattering of cutlery and the quiet thumps of glasses being put down.
To my relief, Tien breaks the silence. “So,” he says to Willow, “what do you want for your birthday, little girl?”
When Willow props her arms up on her hip and announces she is not a little girl, he grins at her broadly, his fork hovering in midair. He holds up his free hand and apologizes, “Of course not, Willow. I’m sorry. You are turning five, and we know that’s basically a grown-up.” He lifts her chin up with his finger, and a grin fights its way onto her face.
Five. At the unwelcome reminder, I exchange a glance with Mira. Through my worry, I barely hear Willow telling Tien she wants an elephant for her birthday. I hope the conversation will stay on the birthday and steer nowhere near the exam that comes along with it.
“An elephant? That’s quite a big wish, isn’t it? Where would it sleep?”
“It can sleep in my castle.” Willow scratches her chin in thought. “But I’m not stupid. I know I can only have a baby elephant. Baby elephants are small. It will fit.”
I laugh at my child’s logic. I wish I could ignore my problems as easily.
The mood has lightened considerably, and I begin to enjoy myself. Mira puts her hand on the table, and Tien reaches for her but seems to think better of it and grabs his glass instead. When he puts his glass back down, his arm lands right next to hers, not quite touching. I admire Tien for his patience with her.
“Did your mom finally get her heating fixed?” I ask.
Mira shakes her head. “They are giving her the runaround. It’s really annoying. She’s spending most of her days in bed, covered up in heaps of blankets.”
Tien looks stern. “I wish I could go and kick the property manager’s ass for you.”
Dale covers Willow’s ears in emphasis, even though it is too late.
“Sorry, Dale.” Tien continues, “Anyway, he really shouldn’t be giving you trouble like this.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Dale offers after allowing Willow to wriggle out from under his hands.
Mira deflects and switches the topic pointedly by asking Willow more questions about elephants.
It pains me to see her worry. Mira hasn’t been matched yet and still lives with her mother. Her mother’s health is declining, and the help is much needed. I know how worried Mira is about what will happen to her mother when she is forced to move out.
When Tien reaches for his fork, his hand brushes against Mira’s arm, and Mira flinches away automatically, but neither of them says anything. Mira hesitates, then puts her hand on Tien’s arm and strokes it with her thumb. He looks at it and smiles at her. Mira returns her hand to her knife, and the moment fades.
When Mira catches my eye, her expression is unreadable. I know she likes Tien, and I am sure he likes her. But it’s not that simple if you live in this society. It’s not like people here can choose their own partner. It’s anything but fair.
I turn my attention to Willow and ask her if she wants any more food. She stabs the last noodle on her plate with gusto, shoves it in her mouth, and shakes her head with a cute little mm-mm.
Dale nudges her nose with his finger and announces, “Time for bed, princess.”
She stands up in her chair, and he picks her up. They walk around the table, and Willow leans over in Dale’s arms to kiss each of us good night. On the way out, he grabs her stuffed elephant from a side table and pushes it into her arms.
I made that elephant for her when she wouldn’t shut up about elephants for weeks after learning about them in school. Unfortunately, it only made her obsession stronger.
With Dale out of earshot, Tien leans closer and asks, “You two wanna tell me what the hell is going on? You’ve been exchanging glances all through dinner.”
Before I catch myself, I exchange another glance with Mira. How do I explain something to my friends that doesn’t even make sense to me?
“It’s Willow’s five-year exam. I have a really bad feeling about it. I don’t know why.” I look down at my plate and try to make sense of my own feelings.
Tien takes my hand and squeezes it lightly. “I’m sure it is going to be okay. She’s a smart little girl. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets perfect scores in all of their tests—whatever it is they are actually testing for.” Mira nods along encouragingly, and I try my best to convince myself my friends are right.
There’s probably nothing to worry about. I’m being stupid and paranoid. This wouldn’t be the first time I overthought things.
Yet I cannot shake the uneasy feeling, and my stomach won’t unclench. Something’s going to go wrong.
“I don’t know,” I repeat. “I guess we won’t know for sure until I take her to the hospital.”
A floorboard creaks, and I see Dale leaning against the doorway.
How long has he been back?
“Why won’t you trust the system?” Any hope he didn’t hear what we were talking about drains away.
“You know full well why I can’t. I’m so done talking about this.” I am unable to keep the anger out of my voice, and I don’t care.
How can he not understand? Why doesn’t he trust me enough to believe me?
I get up and stack the plates with shaking hands. They rattle against each other, and I storm off into the kitchen. I drop them a little too carelessly into the sink and almost break them. I put my hands on the counter and take a deep breath. I need to calm down.
I feel rather than hear someone behind me and turn to find Mira reaching out. She pulls me into a hug and holds me for a long time. I fight the sobs rising inside me.
“What’s going on with you two? You’ve always seemed so stable.”
Before I can answer, the men join us in the kitchen, each carrying more dishes from the table. I release Mira and take another deep breath to prevent any more explosions.
Dale’s eyes find mine, and I can tell he regrets his outburst. I try to return the apology, but I’m not sure I manage to keep the anger out of my expression.
Mira and Tien leave much earlier than they usually would, both citing excuses we know are made up. I close the door behind them and stand with one hand on the knob, preparing myself for what’s coming next. Reluctantly, I turn and join Dale in the living room. He sits on the couch with his shoulders slumped and stares down at his feet.
Now that we are alone, I don’t know what to
say. Ever since I opened the door for Tien and Mira, I wanted nothing but to finish this argument. Now I finally can, and I’m lost.
“I’m sorry, Chase. I—I didn’t mean to—”
“What?” I cut across him. “Start an argument in front of everyone?” I fold my arms and lean against the wall. The anger and disappointment are bubbling up again, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
Dale is trying to apologize, and it’s making everything worse. I am not ready to hear it. Plus, he’s apologizing for the wrong thing anyway.
“Chase.” His tone makes it clear he thinks I’m being unfair. And I know I am, but I don’t care. I also know that if I let him end this argument now, it will be rekindled at the next possible opportunity. This needs to end now. I join him on the couch and face him.
“How can you be mad at me for questioning the examination?” My voice is cold and calm. “You know why I don’t trust them, and neither should you. Why do you care anyway? She’s not even your daughter.” It’s a low blow, and I know it will hurt him. Part of me wants to punish him for not trusting me.
He knows what they did to me. The fact Willow even exists should be plenty of evidence that something is wrong with this society. Instead, he thinks I’m lying about what happened to me.
Dale looks dangerous with his face nearing the color of his crimson hair and beard; his freckles disappear in his rage. His eyes are sad but furious. I know I have gone too far and already regret saying it.
“She’s as good as mine.” His voice cracks. “You know that. How dare you hold that against me? I wasn’t the one who tricked you into a pregnancy.” I feel as if he’s stabbed me in the gut and watch the color drain from his face as quickly as it came, but he continues, “I’m the one who helped you cover it up. I’m the one who has kept you and your daughter safe. You need me to act like she’s mine unless you want to end up like the Bartons. So fuck you for holding it against me that she’s not technically my daughter.”