My Family’s Suitcase Was Always Too Small for My Future Chapter 05

My Family’s Suitcase Was Always Too Small for My Future Chapter 05

My ride was already pulling away. All Dad caught was the exhaust.

Grant leaned out of the car window.

“Dad, come on! Let’s go!”

Dad kept looking back in my direction. Finally, he sighed and got in.

I rode to the train station. The second I boarded, I was out.

When I opened my eyes, we’d arrived. A company driver was waiting at the exit, waving.

“Sorry. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

He waved it off. “Not at all. Hop in.”

I must have been more drained than I realized. I was asleep again within minutes.

A notification woke me as we pulled in.

Mom and Dad had made it to the Silver Coast. Tessa was blowing up the family group chat.

[The girls here are gorgeous. Their skin is unreal. I’m definitely hitting up Sephora later.]

[Grant, want me to grab you anything? Cologne, razors?]

Grant’s reply came right away.

[I’m good. Treat yourself.]

[lol you’re the best]

I squinted at the screen in the fading light. The driver caught my movement in the rearview.

“Oh, you’re up. I was about to wake you.”

“Your flight’s not till noon tomorrow, so you’ve got time to rest. You look beat.”

My eyes stung. A stranger could see it. My own family never had.

“Thank you.”

I paid him and stepped out.

The company had set us up in a shared apartment, all the women on the same assignment under one roof.

“Maren! Finally. We’ve been waiting for you.”

They dragged me over to the tabletop grill and asked what I wanted.

I went still. The answer caught in my throat.

At home, I was always the one at the stove. I knew what Mom liked, what Dad liked, what Grant and Tessa

liked.

I’d never figured out what I liked.

The five of us sat together, talking about everything ahead, half excited, half terrified.

But mostly, we were young enough to believe we were invincible.

That night, the family group chat lit up again.

Tessa posted a photo of their dinner.

[Lobster rolls, grilled mahi-mahi, and clam chowder.]

The plate was styled like a magazine spread.

Mom and Dad were holding up their plates, making goofy faces at the camera.

It looked like a family that had everything.

Grant played it up in the chat.

[You guys look like you’re having the time of your lives. Meanwhile I’m here eating ramen alone]

Mom’s reply was instant,

[What? She didn’t cook for you?]

[No idea. She’s probably asleep.]

I’d been gone ten hours. He still didn’t know I’d left.

[That girl is unbelievable. Can’t even be bothered to cook a single meal. God help whoever marries her.]

She kept going. Message after message, all in the group chat. All where I could see.

But I wasn’t the only daughter in this family.

Tessa had never cooked a meal in her life. She couldn’t even load a dishwasher.

Mom never said a word about it.

The rare times Tessa lifted a finger, Dad would sigh and say:

“Don’t make her do too much. Once people see a girl can handle things, they’ll pile everything on her.”

Meanwhile, I’d be standing at the sink.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know how to love. They just didn’t love me.

When I didn’t reply, Tessa tagged me.

[Maren, what kind of perfume do you wear? I’ll bring you one back.]

Tessa had always had so much love that grudges didn’t stick to her. She was reaching out. Trying to smooth

things over.

I didn’t reply.

It didn’t matter what I said.

If I said no thanks, Mom would say I was rejecting Tessa’s kindness. If I told her what I wanted, Mom would

tell me to pay Tessa for it.

So I left it on read.

Two minutes later, Dad messaged me directly.

[Tessa’s talking to you. Why aren’t you answering? And where did you go with that suitcase this afternoon?]

Mom sent a reaction meme.

[She thinks she’s too good for us. Stop wasting your time.]

A few more jabs from Mom. Then the chat went quiet.

Exactly how I knew it would go.

The next morning, Grant texted me for the first time in twenty-four hours.

[Need a ride to work? I knocked on your door but you didn’t answer.]

[Already left.]

[That early? The grocery store doesn’t open till nine.]

I stared at the screen.

I closed the chat.

At noon, we boarded our flight.

As we climbed, I pressed my face to the window and looked back toward the direction of home.

I kept waiting for the ache to come. It didn’t.

Just relief.

We landed in Sierra Verde, New Mexico. A company car was already waiting.

Everyone’s phones started going off at once. Their families, checking in. Making sure they’d landed safely.

They couldn’t stop smiling the whole ride. Pointing out the window, sending photos, narrating every new thing to the people who cared enough to ask.

Hallie Mercer, sitting beside me, hung up and turned my way.

“Your phone’s been quiet this whole time. Your parents aren’t freaking out?”

I watched the desert blur past the window. Then I smiled.

“They’re not.”