Chapter 5 - The Feast Before the Storm
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I waited for the school bell to ring, my truck parked a block away to remain unseen by anyone who might report back to my mother. Maya slipped into the passenger seat, looking nervous but excited.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Steak," she said instantly. "I want a giant steak."
We went to the nicest steakhouse I could find in Austin. I watched in awe and heartbreak as my fifteen-year-old daughter devoured a massive ribeye, a baked potato, and two rolls of bread. She ate like a survivor, guarding her plate instinctively whenever the waiter approached.
"Take your time," I told her, my chest tightening. "You can have as much as you want."
Between bites, we mapped out the evening.
"When you get home," I said, "I'll arrive ten minutes later. I'll bang on the door. I'll demand to see you. Just keep your head down and act scared."
"I won't have to act much," Maya admitted quietly. "She can be really mean when she's angry."
I reached across the table and took her hand. "She is never going to hurt you again. I promise you that."
After dinner, we drove to the neighborhood where I grew up. The house looked exactly the same from the outside—a charming, middle-class suburban home with a manicured lawn. The kind of house that hid its dark secrets well.
I dropped Maya off two blocks away so she could walk up to the house as usual. I parked out of sight and waited, watching the clock on my dashboard. Ten agonizing minutes passed.
I took a deep breath, stepping out of the truck. I channeled all the genuine rage I felt toward my mother and molded it into the furious, disappointed father she expected me to be.
I marched up the driveway and pounded my fist heavily on the front door.
"Evelyn!" I shouted, making sure the neighbors could hear. "Open the door!"
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A moment later, the door swung open. My mother stood there, looking perfectly coiffed, wearing a look of fake distress.
"Jason, thank goodness you're here," she said, ushering me inside. "I can't handle that girl for another second."
