House Rules
The rest of the day you move through the house like a ghost. Meals prepared, surfaces cleaned, laundry folded. Everything done, everything on time, everything impeccable. But there's nothing behind it. You are a person-shaped object completing tasks, and anyone paying attention would notice.
You're wiping down the kitchen counters for the second time, not because they need it, but because your hands need something to do, when Gabbie comes in from the garden.
She's been sunbathing. This is immediately apparent. She walks in the way she always does, completely at ease in her own skin, sun-warm and unhurried, and stops when she sees your face.
"Hey." She tilts her head. "You okay?"
"Fine," you say.
She looks at you for a moment with those open, genuinely concerned eyes. Gabbie is not perceptive in the way Charlotte is, but she notices when someone she cares about is not okay.
"You don't look fine. You look like someone ran over your dog and then backed up to make sure."
"I'm fine, Gabbie."
"Did something happen?"
You think about Charlotte's bedroom. The quiet click of the lock. The key disappearing into her pocket. Charlotte was right, it is too embarrassing to reveal it to Gabbie.
"I don't want to talk about it."
She studies you for another moment, then nods slowly. "Okay." A pause. "But you're not fine."