Sunday Dinner  

The gym was too quiet.

The lights had flickered on like usual when Seraphina swiped her card at the front desk—6:01 a.m., just one minute past opening. She shrugged out of her coat, pulled on her staff lanyard, and glanced toward the back where the staff office door usually stood slightly ajar, a faint hum of music or the clink of a coffee cup giving away Lachlan's presence.

But this morning, his office was dark. Not a single light on.

No muttered swearing. No boots on the tile. No soft, soothing voice calling her "Sera" with a lazy nod. No scent from his cologne letting her know that he has been in the area just recently.

She scanned the room twice, but Lachlan didn't pop out of a corner to scare her. His office was well and truly empty.

It was…weird.

The manager who opened the door waved to her before getting his run started on the treadmill, and she nodded back. That was right. She still had a job to do.

The early Sunday regulars filtered in one by one, nodding politely as she scanned their cards. She barely looked up. Her fingers moved on muscle memory, each beep of the scanner matching the growing unease in her chest.

By three-thirty, she was finished. She slipped on her coat and caught the bus without thinking, headphones in, hood up. The city outside the fogged window moved like it always did—slow, gray, indifferent.

------

It was funny, in a way. She used to love Sunday dinner at her parent's place. It was one of those things that always was. Dad was forced to come home from the lab where he was working at, her and her sister were forced to put down their phones, and it was a time to talk, to bond as a family.

But now… the day she hated the most was Sunday.

Getting off the same bus as last week, she walked the same route, and just like before, her mother opened the door before she even knocked.

"There you are," she said, all warmth and vanilla perfume, pulling Seraphina in by the sleeve. "You're early."

Sera smiled faintly. "The bus was fast," she replied, shrugging off her jacket and putting it on the post at the base of the stairs. "Not to mention, there wasn't much traffic."

The house smelled like roast beef and potatoes, the exact same smell as last week. It used to feel comforting, but now it felt heavy. Like something was smothering the air, and the walls were closing in around her.

She didn't know if it was worse because she just found the perfect spot, or what, but she could already feel the creature inside of her demanding that she returns to the cabin.

Her father came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Sera! Good to see you, sweetheart." He kissed her temple and handed her a glass of ginger ale like she was still in high school and might have an upset stomach. She took it anyway, even though she now felt that it was too sweet.

"Come on," her mom called. "Your sister's on the line. She wanted to say hi before dinner starts."

Sera flinched, just barely.

The speakerphone was already on when she stepped into the living room. Her sister's voice blasted through the phone from Country M—bright, rushed, and high-pitched over the wail of a toddler in the background.

"Sera! Oh my god, you're still alive!" she chirped. "You haven't called me in weeks. I was starting to think you'd joined a cult or something. Or maybe frozen to death in one of your snowstorms."

"Hello, Nadia," Sera said evenly. When she saw both her parents' heads snapping toward her, she forced herself to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"You sound tired," her sister continued, having not waited for a response. "Are you still working at that coffee shop? Mom mentioned something about a dungeon of a gym. Mom, tell her to switch to online fitness or something—those places are full of creeps."

Her mother laughed, but Seraphina didn't join in.

"How's the baby?" she asked instead, because it was the only safe question.

"Oh, he's being a demon of a child as always. Aren't you, my perfect boy? Say hi to Auntie Sera!" There was a muffled squeal, then a loud crash. "Okay, we're gonna need to go soon. I swear he's less than two and has already figured out how to open the liquor cabinet."

Their mother beamed at the phone like it was a live feed from heaven before hanging up the call.

"You should come visit for Christmas," her father offered gently, settling beside her on the couch. "We could all go. Country M's beautiful in the winter, right? And your sister's got that guest room…"

Seraphina's face didn't move.

"I'll think about it," she said, her smile paper-thin.

"Oh," announced her mom, taking a seat on the other side of her. "I saw that you withdrew all the investments we started when you were a kid. What did you do with all that money? How much was in the account? I was only looking over the banking this morning, that's why I thought to ask."

"I went to the bank and spoke to an investor," Sera replied, the feeling of panic starting in her chest. It was always that way when her parents sat her down to talk about money. Like being pulled into the principal's office and not knowing the reason. "The suggested that I move the money into a tax-free savings account. That way I won't have to claim it on my taxes."

"You know that's not true," sighed my father like I just told him that the sky was purple. "You will have to pay back that money when you spend it. How much was it?"

Taking in a deep breath, I tried not to panic. If I didn't know the amount down to the penny, I would be accused of lying. If I did know it down to the penny, they would want to know what I was planning to buy with it that I knew the amount off the top of my head.

Either way, I was walking into a trap, and my creature wasn't having it.

"The last I saw, it was sitting at just over $31,000," I replied, keeping the smile on my face.

"That's not right, it should have been a lot more than that. Did you take some out without telling us? You know, you might be the primary on the investment, but your father is joint for a reason. You need to learn when to do things, and you need to talk it over with us first."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll make sure to do that from now on. Did you want me to add you on to the tax free savings account? That way you can still monitor the money?" Considering that the money had already been spent and there was no tax free savings account, Sera was hoping that the answer was no.

"No," grunted her father. "I'm just happy that you are finally taking an interest in learning about it. You've had it for 15 years, it's nice to see that you are finally growing up."

How do you tell your loving father that you don't see an investment account as actual money?

It wasn't hers. It was monitored by her mother, and everyone knew that it was a test to see what she did with it.

Don't get her wrong. They meant well. They always had. This was their way of teaching her responsibility with money.

But she wasn't completely wrong. Buying a cabin in the middle of nowhere was an investment… an investment in her sanity.

Dinner was a blur of conversation she smiled through and nodded at the right times. Her plate was full, then empty, then full again. Roast beef, gravy, potatoes, carrots, everything perfectly cooked—everything carefully normal.

But just before dessert, she couldn't take it anymore. "I've got homework to do, unfortunately," she said, standing too quickly. "And a shift tomorrow. But thanks. For everything. I'll see you next week, yeah?"

Her mother hugged her like she was breakable. Her father packed leftovers into a foil container. The house was warm. Her coat itched. Her head pounded.

She walked three blocks before it hit her.

She ducked into an alley between rows of houses, bracing her hands against a trash bin as the roast beef came back up, sharp and acidic, like it was trying to burn its way out.

Her eyes stung.

Not from tears.

From rage. From memory. From the scent of her sister's perfume still lodged in her throat.

She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her coat, steadied herself, and looked up at the sky.

Grey. As always.

But the wind was sharp. And she could breathe again.

Just barely.