MIRANDA

Anxiety grips me as the door to the closet creaks ajar. Rapping at the bedroom door draws Kage's attention.

"What?" he says in a gruff tone.

"Can we talk about this please?" a muffled voice says from the other side of the door.

"Just go away."

From the small space between the closet doors, I watch him as Kage throws himself on the bed and screams into the pillow that he's plastered against his face.

Something's happened. But what, I don't know. Although, given the time of day, Kage should be at school still. I focus my attention on the conversation, eager to find out what's eating at him. There's nothing I can do, but the worry will only eat at me if it remains undiscovered.

Another gentle rap on the door.

"Kage. Honey," Marlys says. Her voice is no longer muffled, and I suspect she's standing in the doorway now.

He pulls the pillow closer, tighter, growling into it.

Her footsteps are light as air as she approaches the bed. She sits propped on the edge beside Kage.

"Can we talk about what happened, please?"

"It doesn't matter. Just forget about it," he retorts. But she isn't giving up that easily and reaches for the pillow. He grabs it tighter and rolls away from her, onto his side.

With slumped shoulders, Marlys sucks in a breath. "I'm on your side here, Kage. Let me help you."

Kage guffaws, unconvinced. In one swift move, he sits upright, legs bent, and wraps his arms around his knees.

"You're not my mother. And you can't un-suspend me. So, tell me, what is it you think you can do to help me, Marlys?" His voice is thick with sarcasm. And while I'll always side with my son, his arrogance gives me pause.

She lowers her voice a little. "If you tell me what happened, I might be able to speak with the principal and get this whole mess sorted out."

"You think I'm worried about being suspended?" Kage retorts. "I couldn't care less about that."

Marlys clears her throat and straightens her posture.

"Would you rather have this conversation with your father?"

Kage's eyes narrow, lips drawing together tightly. She's hit a nerve.

"Fuck you, Marlys." He darts off the bed and storms out of the room, leaving her alone. She's not actually alone, is she? No. I'm here too. Watching her still.

Moments later, the front door slams shut.

Once she gets out of here, I can too. Before I'm caught.

But she doesn't move. Sitting there, she sobs into her hands.

When she stops sobbing, with the back of her hand she wipes her nose, before fingertips clear the tears from her cheeks and eyes.

"What am I even doing here?" Marlys mumbles. "You hate me. And I'll let you in on a little secret - I'm pretty sure your dad is cheating on me," she sighs, then stands from her spot on the bed. Moving past the desk, she traces a hand over the curve of the chair. Noticing the photos still spread out on the desk, she picks one up.

"Look at you, so small. Those chubby cheeks. I wish I'd known you then. Maybe if you had, then you wouldn't hate me so much now." Marlys lets out another sigh, shoulders slumping.

"But you don't need me," she shakes her head. "You need your real mother, not some miserable fill-in like me." Another sob emits from her, "I mean, who am kidding, really? I'm not parent material. Lord knows I've tried and failed. No, you deserve so much better."

She pulls the photo closer. "Maybe you'd both be better off without me."

As she puts the photo back on the desk, she turns around slowly, surveying the room, before dragging herself back towards the door. With the click of the handle, she's gone.

I'm not sure what to make of all of that. On the one hand, I despise the woman who's taken my place in the family. But on the other, a spark of empathy. I don't like it one bit. Why should I feel sorry for her? I owe her nothing. Then again, she spoke from the heart, not knowing anyone could hear her. And as for that part, an uneasy feeling settles within me. Despite my ire and dislike of Marlys, I've intruded on her as if I'd read the most personal parts of her journal. The part that holds her innermost secrets. Never intended for another. Perhaps it's pity.

Quietly I sneak out of the wardrobe and leave Kage's bedroom. I carefully navigate the hallway towards the master bedroom, where I hear crying. The door is slightly ajar, and I peek through. She must be in the ensuite since she's not in plain sight right now. Her sobs grow fainter as the sound of water splashing against tile begins. A long, hot soak in that very bathtub always helped drown my sorrows, too. But enough of that.

She's distracted now. It's my opportunity to see what Hunter has been hiding. Bed side tables flank either side of their king-sized bed, almost identical except for a small vase of silk roses on one side. That must be hers. I go to the other side and open the top drawer. This is unquestionably Hunters. It's filled with coins, business cards he's likely discarded from his wallet, a pair of cufflinks, and a motivational business book. Not surprising given his love of podcasts by that same author. I always thought those were more arrogance than anything else. Closing the drawer, I open the one below it. Filled with bric-à-brac, there's nothing of interest for me here. Perhaps his underwear drawer?

"Hello?" Marlys calls out from the bathroom. The shower stops. "Hunter, is that you?"

Instinctively, I drop to the floor between the far side of the bed and the far wall. Their bed is an ensemble, so there's hiding beneath it. But I can still see through the two-inch gap between the floor and bed.

A splash comes from the bathroom, then her toes appear at the edge of the tile, where the carpet meets.

"That's odd," she mutters, then moves to the door, inching it open. "Hunter? Kage?" she calls down the hallway. She's met with only her voice vibrating back at her.

Another splash tells me she's soaking again.

Deciding to switch my hiding place, I dart behind the thick drapes. Like a statue, I remain until she's finished and dressed.

Now go downstairs, please, Marlys.

Instead, she throws herself on the bed and closes her eyes.

This is ridiculous! What woman her age takes afternoon naps?

Nevertheless, I have no choice but to put up with it. The room is silent and still. Not even humming from the air-conditioner or whirring of the ceiling fan can be heard.

From the stillness, Marlys whispers loudly. "I know someone's there."

A long few minutes pass before she whispers again. Quieter than before, she says, "Who are you?"

She has no clue. And even if she does, there's no way I'm answering and giving myself away. I'm not a complete fool.

Marlys clears her throat. "Amelia? Is it you?"