so incredibly fragile. She wants to stomp her foot in frustration when he completely misses the message.
“In this weather?” He turns away from Phee and directs a parental tirade at his daughter, oblivious to the subliminal messages Phee continues to transmit at his back. “Were you thinking at all? You don’t even have a jacket. You could have caught your death of cold!”
Allie turns to face him, a wild creature at bay. “Big loss that would be.”
Phee tries again to intervene, brushing past him into the house without waiting for an invitation. Something is wrong about the house, nagging at her. “I’m sorry, I should have called sooner. I took her to my mother’s and got her warm and dry—”
“It’s eight o’clock! You couldn’t have brought her sooner? You couldn’t have called? For God’s sake, Phee, you’re as bad as she is!”
“I already said I was sorry! She didn’t want to come home.” Phee says this slowly, with emphasis, trying to herd him back from the edge, but he’s already back on Allie’s case.
“I thought you promised you’d go to school.”
“I thought you promised to stop drinking.” Allie’s chin lifts in defiance.
That volley silences him. All three of them stand like chess pieces at an impasse. Allie glaring defiance. Phee with her warning undelivered. Braden still holding the door open as if it takes too much energy to close it.
“This isn’t about me,” Braden finally says. “Just because I fucked up doesn’t mean you have to.”
“I’ll probably fail the semester now, anyway,” Allie says. “What difference does it make if I go to school?”
No music. That’s what’s wrong about the house. The pervasive music from the cello is missing. Oh please. Don’t let that mean what I think it means.
Before Phee has time to ask any questions, to crystalize the fear, Celestine barrels up the steps and barges past her, flinging his wet, muddy body at Braden’s legs, tail wagging up a windstorm. Braden staggers backward, catches his balance, steadies himself with a hand on the shaggy head. That shakes him out of himself, and he turns to Phee, his tone a little stretched and desperate.
“Thanks for bringing her home. I’m sure you’d like to—”
“Allie was telling me you’re planning to get rid of the cello.” Phee stands unmovable, her eyes boring holes into him. Too late, the silence whispers, and Braden’s clear motivation to get her out of the house confirms her fear.
“Look, can we talk about this later? I really think that what’s going on with Allie is more important than—”
“What’s going on with Allie is part of why I’m here.”
Allie slams the door closed. “Part of what?”
“Nothing,” Braden says. “Go to your room, Allie. This doesn’t concern you.”
“It concerns her more than you think.” Phee can’t contain her dread any longer. “Where is the cello?”
“You should leave.”
Phee pushes past him and heads for the music room.
She hears his footsteps behind her as if from a distance. “Phee—”
But she’s already standing at the open door. The chair still sits by the music stand, but the room is empty of the only thing that matters. Phee’s knees go weak. She supports herself against the doorjamb, tries to breathe in a world where somebody has cut off all of the oxygen.
“Braden Healey, what have you done?”
“I tried to tell you, Phee. It had to go. I asked you, begged you—”
“So we’re saying ‘it’ now? No more ‘she’? After everything I showed you—”
“I told him to get rid of it,” Allie breaks in. “It’s, like, the one thing he’s done right since he moved back in.”
“Oh, honey,” Phee says. “He can’t—”
“Don’t you dare tell her.” Braden’s voice is fierce. “You need to leave this house, now.”
“She has to know. She’s part of this.”
“Do not drag my daughter into your delusions!”
“What are you even talking about?” Allie demands, looking from one to the other.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh puh-leese. I hate being lied to, and I am not a child.”
“Braden. You have to listen to me. I know you think I’m crazy. But you have to get the cello back. You have to do it now!”
“Not possible.”
“Fine, tell me what you’ve done, who you sold her to, and I’ll go get her back myself.”
“I didn’t sell her.”
Phee’s hand goes to her heart, her vision darkening around the edges. “Tell me you didn’t—”
“Break her and burn her?”
Celestine’s barking resonates through the house, followed by the doorbell. All of them ignore it.