After the suitcases were packed, Avery went to the kitchen and started on lunch.
She was still stewing in her thoughts—fitting, considering she was making stew, but the humor of it was lost on her. Regardless, chopping vegetables felt good—it was easy, thoughtless, and it was something she knew she could do.
Her hands were steady—she'd trained herself to be steady—even though her thoughts were a storm behind her ribs. Every time she blinked, she saw the neon smear of that club again, the yellow glow on William's face as he'd stepped outside with those girls. It made her feel sick.
She was halfway through dicing an onion when she heard footsteps behind her. Heavy ones. Familiar.
After a moment, William crossed the kitchen. He looked at her briefly and smiled, then grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard, tore it open, and took a bite.
Her mood quickly soured.
"I'm making lunch," she said, plastering on a huge smile. "Don't eat too much."
William nodded, taking another bite of the protein bar. "Have you talked to Jack today?" he asked, with his mouth full.
Avery kept her eyes on the cutting board, trying not to utterly destroy the onion under her knife. "No," she said. "Why?"
"I need you to talk sense into him," he said. "He's still going on about studying art. Art, Avery. He wants to waste four years drawing cartoons."
Despite her best efforts, she set the knife down a little too hard, and the onion fell apart in pieces on her cutting board.
"Jack is talented," she said evenly. "I've seen his drawings. And he's happy when he's drawing them. Isn't that worth something?"
William snorted. "Not in this economy. He can make his doodles in his free time, but he needs a real job."
"He's eighteen. It's his choice."
He glanced at her again—but only to wave her words off with a scoff. "Not if it's my money paying for the classes. Don't be ridiculous, Avery. Art people are all weirdos, anyway. Not to mention stuck below the poverty line. At least Sophie chose something with half a measure of good sense."
"Her tutor will be coming to the retreat," Avery said. "And he's bringing along a friend."
She noticed her hands were trembling, if only slightly, due to her anger. Regardless, she picked up the diced onion from her cutting board, put it in a bowl, and began dicing another one.
At the other side of the kitchen, William narrowed his eyes, glaring at her. "I wasn't aware that we sent out two more invitations."
"Sophie made the decision. She said the tutor couldn't come otherwise."
"Of course not. And since when does Sophie make decisions?"
Avery stopped cutting the onion and glared back at him wordlessly. Once upon a time, until very recently, really, she would just bitten her tongue, let the comment slide, maybe even apologized. But after last night, something in her had re-hardened. Shee felt like her rage was simmering very near the boiling point.
William stared at her for a couple more moments, waves his hand dismissively and backed down. "Bah. Fine, get the plus one. It's not like I get a decision in the matter."
He tossed the empty wrapper of his protein bar on the counter and walked out, muttering to himself. Right before he disappeared from view, he stopped and glanced over at Avery again.
"Talk Jack out of art school, Avery. He listens to you."
After that, he left. Avery heard the kitchen door creak shut.
A few minutes later, that same door creaked back open, and Jack stepped in, his hair messy, smelling faintly of paint thinner. He entered the room like he expected something in it to bite him—a trait he had inherited from her, in fact, but he paused and smiled when he saw her.
She looked up from her onions, smiling back at him. "Good morning," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "You're up late."
"No, I've been up for a while. I just didn't see you yet."
"Been busy?"
He nodded, walking to the counter William had leaned on, picking up the wrapper of the protein bar there, and throwing it in the trash. "I'm applying to all the local art schools," he said. "I hope at least one of them will take me. Are you making lunch?"
She glanced at him, and she couldn't help but sigh. "Indeed. Come sit."
She saw him crinkle of his face awkwardly, but he soon obeyed, dragging a chair from the dining table over to the kitchen counter beside her.
Avery opened a nearby cupboard, poured him a glass of water, and placed it in front of him. "Your father talked to you?" she asked.
Her son rolled his eyes, his mood quickly dropping to the level of hers. She couldn't blame him in the slightest.
"He says art is a waste of time."
Avery put the diced onion from her cutting board into a bowl again. "Your father wants you to have a stable job and income," she said. "It's how he understands success."
"I know," Jack replied.
"And art school… well, it's not really predictable. I know next to nothing about it, except that it can be harsh. Competitive."
Jack grimaced. "So you agree with him?" he asked flatly.
Gosh, but her son looked just like Sophie when he frowned. They were siblings, after all, but it was uncanny.
"No," she said gently. "Not agree. I just… share his concerns. But you're old enough to weigh them for yourself. It's your life. Your decision."
Jack's shoulders eased a little. Then, just as quickly, they tensed again. "Are you going to say that to Dad, too?"
Avery paused, one hand resting lightly on the bowl of remaining onions. "I already did."
"And?"
"And … you know how he is. Stubborn. He won't change his mind."
Jack slumped back in the chair, exhaling hard. "Great. So this is just gonna be a fight forever. Or should I just submit to him again, as always?"
That's certainly the easy path, Avery thought. It's the one I've been choosing all my married life. And where has it gotten me?
"No, you don't have to." Avery finally slid all the onions she had diced into the nearby pot, turned on the heat, and stirred, letting a wisp of steam rise. "But I do need you to do something for me."
Jack looked up, wary. "What?"
"Don't bring it up in front of him again right now. At least not until after tomorrow. We need to get through your father's test results before we add… anything else."
"I wasn't planning on bringing it up to him at all. He came to me."
"Well, maybe just avoid the subject if that happens again. Okay?"
Jack nodded. "Sure."
Avery finally let herself exhale, letting a bit of tension slip out of her shoulders. "Now, onto subjects you don't have to avoid—your sister is coming to the retreat."
"Sophie? She is?"
"Yup. It'll be nice to see her again. The last time I did was a couple of months ago."
"Yeah, same. I'm surprised, though. I didn't think she'd want to come back here. To … this. Dad must be thrilled."
Avery turned her eyes towards the pot. "Mm. Thrilled is… a word for it. And she's bringing some friends with her."
"Yeah?"
"Her tutor, Benjamin. And a friend of his."
Jack made a face. "The boyfriend? The one Dad doesn't like?"
Avery pointedly stared at him before she spoke again. "The 'tutor' is how she introduced him to us, and the 'tutor' is how I will ask you to refer to him. At least for the duration of this retreat."
"Because of Dad."
"Yes, because of Dad."
"And who's the other person?"
"I don't know. A girl, apparently, so maybe he really is just a tutor, and our speculation has been for naught."
Jack shrugged, then arose from his chair. He was taller than she was, now. He stepped a few feet away to pick a fruit from the nearby basket on the counter. "This is going to be annoying," he said. "Why are we even doing it? Dad can look up the test results right now. He already has them, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but he has decided to do things this way. I think it's best to appease him—and you do want to know what the results are, don't you? Or do you not care if your father lives or dies?"
"No, of course I care…"
Avery smiled faintly, wiping her hands on a dish towel and forcing herself to breathe in slowly. "Finish your water," she said. "Lunch will be ready soon."
Jack nodded, stood up straight, and slowly walked out of the kitchen, his expression solemn.
Avery sighed. In her mind, she saw William coming out of the nightclub with those two young girls again. Her brow furrowed at the thought. She had swallowed her pride so many times in her life that it was practically part of her diet, but then he'd gone and cheated on her, too? Finally, she felt something in her shift. She didn't know whether it was anger, or clarity, or simply exhaustion—but she realized she was done going along with whatever whims William could think of.
And she was decidedly not looking forward to lunch.