Chapter 3 - The Broken Mask
For three long seconds, I couldn't move. My hands trembled violently at my sides. The blue paper confetti of my shredded passport sat on the white duvet like a tiny, mutilated corpse.
Lauren took two steps down the hall toward the stairs, her hips swaying under her crisp linen trousers, clearly expecting me to dissolve into tears, scream, or surrender.
She had miscalculated.
She thought she had backed a quiet twenty-three-year-old into a corner.
She forgot that the corner was where I had been standing for four years.
"Stop right there," I said.
My voice wasn't loud. It wasn't high. It was low, hard, and terrifyingly calm.
Lauren paused on the top step, looking back over her shoulder with an irritated sigh. "Kelly, don't start screaming in front of the boys. They're sensitive."
"Put down the shake," I said.
"What?"
"Put down the drink."
Something in my tone made her pause. She set the plastic cup on the hallway table.
I took out my phone. I didn't open my camera. I opened the main dial pad and typed three digits: 9-1-1.
Lauren’s eyes widened slightly. "What are you doing?"
"I’m calling the police," I said, my thumb hovering over the green call button. "I’m reporting a breaking and entering, criminal destruction of personal property exceeding five hundred dollars, and the intentional destruction of a federal identification document."
Lauren laughed, a sharp, nervous sound. "Are you insane? It’s a passport! It was an accident! The kids did it!"
"The kids are five," I stepped into the hall, standing between her and the stairs. "You used a butter knife from Mom's drawer to pop my bedroom latch. You brought two five-year-olds into a locked room, handed them nine-inch kitchen shears from the top counter, and supervised them while they destroyed my legal property. That isn't an accident, Lauren. That's criminal solicitation of a minor."
Lauren’s face turned bright, splotchy red. "You wouldn't dare call the cops on your own sister! Think of what that would do to Jack's firm! Think of Mom and Dad!"
"I am thinking of Mom and Dad," I said. "Which is why I’m giving you exactly ten seconds to hand me your purse."
"My purse? Why the hell would I give you my purse?"
"Because," I pulled out my phone camera, snapped three high-definition, flash photos of the crushed door latch, the kitchen shears in Gary's hand, and the shredded passport, "an emergency expedite fee at the regional passport agency in Washington D.C. costs three hundred and fifty dollars. The courier fee is two hundred. My ruined leather suitcase cost two hundred. My laptop keyboard replacement will cost three hundred."
I stepped closer to her, my voice dropping to a whisper that made her step back.
"You are going to open your phone right now and Venmo me one thousand dollars. Or I hit this green button, hand the responding officer the door lock photos, and let the State Department fraud division investigate why an adult woman handed kitchen shears to a child to destroy a federal travel document."
"You're crazy," she breathed, her hands shaking as she backed against the banister. "You've lost your mind!"
"Eight seconds, Lauren."
"Kelly, I don't have a thousand dollars in my personal checking!" she yelled, her refined suburban mask completely shattering. "Jack controls the primary house accounts!"
"Then use your Nordstrom card. Use your credit line. I don't give a damn if you sell your Tory Burch flats on Poshmark," I snapped. "You have five seconds."
From the bedroom, Gary suddenly began to cry, frightened by his mother’s frantic tone. Nicholas dropped the glitter glue, spilling it onto the hardwood floor.
Lauren looked at my face. She searched for the hesitant, passive younger sister who used to heat up dinosaur nuggets while crying over her chemistry finals.
She found nothing.
With a furious, choked sob, Lauren pulled her leather wallet out of her tote, snatched her navy Chase Sapphire card, and tapped her phone with trembling fingers.
Ding.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Venmo: Lauren Thorne sent you $1,000.00 (Note: Expenses)
"There!" Lauren shrieked, tears of sheer rage spilling over her perfectly applied mascara. "There's your damn money! You are an ungrateful, psychopathic bitch!"
"Get your children," I said coldly, pointing toward my bedroom. "Get out of this house. If you ever step foot on this second floor again without my permission, I won't use Venmo. I'll use a process server."
Lauren grabbed Gary and Nicholas by their arms, dragging them past me so fast Gary dropped his left shoe. She practically threw them down the stairs, screaming at them to shut up as they stumbled toward the front door.
The heavy front door slammed shut so hard the foyer mirror rattled.
I stood alone in the quiet hallway.
My hands were still shaking, but the fog was gone.
May you like
I picked up Gary's dropped shoe, tossed it into the trash can, and walked into my room to pack my ruined passport into a Ziploc bag.
I wasn't staying in Virginia for another day.
