Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips
For a frantic ten seconds, the backyard was suspended in a suffocating, terrifying vacuum of sound. Lucy kept repeating my name over and over, clutching my shirt with claw-like fingers as if convinced I would dissolve into mist if she let go.
Then, the frantic spin-doctoring began.
Theresa recovered her footing first, stepping forward with a mask of manufactured distress and defensive outrage. "Nathan! Thank goodness you’re back! You startled us! Honestly, son, you shouldn't listen to a single word she’s saying. Ever since she fell ill, Lucy has become completely unbearable! She’s ungrateful, she throws tantrums, she breaks our expensive things on purpose, and she’s even started stealing family jewelry out of spite!"
I didn't yell. I didn't lunge at my mother. I slowly turned my head, locking my eyes onto the heavy gold hummingbird pendant resting against Theresa’s chest.
"Like that one?" I asked softly, my voice devoid of all human warmth.
Theresa’s breath hitched. She instinctively slapped her hand over the pendant, trying to cover it. "This? Oh, well... Lucy gave this to me! As a gift! For taking care of her!"
Lucy shook her head weakly against my shoulder, tears spilling over her hollow cheeks. "I didn't... I tried to sell it to a pawn shop downtown just to pay for a diagnostic scan... and your mother ripped it right off my neck."
The sheer, staggering depravity of it made the blood roar in my ears. I looked back up at Theresa and Brianna, whose faces had drained of all color.
"What illness does she have?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave into a dangerous, razor-sharp register.
Theresa hesitated, darting a nervous glance at Brianna. "She... she has some sort of persistent infection. Nothing major."
Lucy lifted her hand, trembling, and pressed it against her own chest. "It's cancer," she whispered clearly. "Stage three lymphoma. They found the tumor fourteen months ago."
Fourteen months. For over a year, while I busted my knuckles in the freezing metal shops of Alberta, believing I was securing our future, my wife had been fighting a death sentence inside a concrete shed while her own mother-in-law and sister-in-law starved her, stole her medicine money, and treated her like domestic livestock.
Theresa immediately launched into a defensive tirade, waving her hands frantically. "Cancer treatments cost a fortune, Nathan! There were no guarantees she’d even survive! Why should we throw thousands of dollars into a bottomless pit when we needed to secure the house and keep the family afloat? You sent the money to my account, which means I had the legal authority to allocate it where it mattered most!"
I looked around the yard—at the gleaming luxury SUV in the drive, the brand-new patio furniture, the expensive landscaping, and Brianna’s designer clothes. Then I looked down at Lucy, whose bare feet were calloused, bruised, and squeezed into a pair of mismatched, broken sandals.
"How much of my money did you use for her cancer treatment, Mom?" I asked, my tone dangerously quiet.
Theresa blinked, sweating profusely under my unwavering stare. "Well... we paid for a couple of initial doctor visits, didn't we, Brianna?"
Lucy choked out a dry, hacking laugh. "Two. Two visits in fourteen months. They spent the rest on themselves."
I helped Lucy stand, supporting her skeletal weight entirely against my side. "We are going to the hospital right now," I announced, turning toward the front gate.
Theresa instantly threw herself across the patio exit, blocking our path, her face twisting into an ugly mask of entitlement and rage. "Oh, no you don't! You walk out of here after disappearing to Canada for four years, and now you come back trying to treat your own family like common criminals?! We kept this house standing! We kept the lights on! You ungrateful bastard!"
I rolled up the left sleeve of my flannel shirt, revealing a chaotic map of jagged burn scars, deep industrial cuts, and permanent chemical staining wrapping around my forearm.
"I worked fourteen-hour shifts until my skin literally melted off my bones," I said, stepping right up until my chest pressed against Theresa’s silk blouse. "I slept in a cramped, freezing trailer with four other roughnecks. I spent two straight Christass eves completely alone in a foreign country eating canned soup so you women back home wouldn't lack a single luxury."
"And we didn't!" Theresa screamed defensively, utterly devoid of remorse.
I looked down at Lucy, whose frail body was shivering violently against my side. "She did."
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Brianna crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "Well, if she’s going to die anyway, why are you making such a huge deal out of it? It’s her own fault for having weak genes!"
Something inside me finally snapped. But instead of exploding into the violent rage they expected, a terrifying, ice-cold calm washed over my soul. I reached slowly into the pocket of my jeans, pulled out my smartphone, and unlocked the screen.
