Chapter Nineteen – Shadows at the Door
1132 Words
The car engine was silent, but the hum of the city seeped through the windows. Elena sat with both hands resting on the steering wheel, staring at the neon sign across the street. The club’s letters glowed a sickly blue and crimson, flickering at the edges as if alive, buzzing faintly against the mist. The light pulsed across the wet asphalt, broken by tire tracks and scattered cigarette butts, painting her windshield in nervous color.
She should have been anywhere but here. At home, reading case notes, or curled in bed with a book she would only half absorb. Instead, she lingered in the darkened parking space, her car just another shadow among others, watching the entrance where laughter spilled out every time the door opened.
Her fingers traced the grooves of the keys still resting in the ignition. If she turned them, she could drive away. Just leave. Go back to her carefully ordered life of sessions, notes, and meals eaten in silence. But the sign drew her eyes back again and again, the promise of light and music pulling against her resistance. You don’t belong here, she whispered to herself. You have no right to be here.
The sudden buzz of her phone startled her. The screen lit up: Kevin.
Her chest tightened as she pressed the green icon and lifted it to her ear. “Kevin? Honey?”
“Hey, Mom.” His voice carried the echo of dorm life—distant laughter, footsteps rushing down a hallway, the muted slam of a door. “Finally. I was starting to think you forgot how to dial. It’s been, what, two weeks?”
Guilt surged hot in her chest. “I know. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, leaning back against the headrest. “Work has been… consuming.” The excuse sounded thin even to her own ears.
There was a pause, then the rustle of fabric as Kevin adjusted the phone. “I was worried, that’s all. You sound tired.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, smoothing her voice into practiced calm. Always fine. Always controlled.
“You don’t sound fine.” His words were gentle but firm, the way he used to sound when he wanted her to admit she had a fever so he could tuck a blanket tighter around her. “I can tell. I’m your son. You can’t fake me out.”
A bittersweet ache rose in her throat. He was right—he had always been able to read her too well.
Kevin’s tone brightened, trying to shake off the heaviness. “Listen, holidays are coming up. I’ll be home in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll bring Emily—you remember her? From my psych seminar?”
“Yes, of course,” Elena said automatically, though her gaze kept drifting back to the club’s glowing entrance. A group of women in glittering dresses tumbled out, their laughter cutting through the night like shards of glass.
“She’s been dying to meet you,” Kevin went on. “Thinks you’re… well, you know. Strong.”
The word pierced. Elena bit her lip. “That’s kind of her.”
“She’s serious,” Kevin said. “She says if I get half my backbone from you, then she’s lucky. And honestly, I think she’s right. You’ve held everything together, Mom. Even after Dad…” He trailed off, awkward. “Well. You know.”
“Yes.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. She knew all too well.
There was a pause filled only by the bass thrum from across the street. Even muffled through the car, the rhythm pressed into her bones.
“Anyway,” Kevin said finally, lighter again. “It’ll be good. Dinner at home, maybe a weekend. You won’t have to be alone for once.”
Alone. The word lodged like a stone in her chest. She forced a laugh, brittle around the edges. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“You promise you’re okay?” His voice was softer now, almost a whisper.
She froze. The truth hovered at the edge of her tongue: No, I’m not okay. I’m sitting outside a club I should never enter, chasing shadows of my patients, risking everything I built just to feel something again. But she swallowed it down. “Yes. I promise.”
A beat of silence. Then Kevin sighed. “Alright. I’ll see you soon. Call me, okay? Not just when I call you.”
“I will,” she said, though even as she spoke the promise felt fragile. “I love you, Kevin.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
The line clicked dead, leaving the car in silence again. The neon glow seemed harsher now, the buzzing louder. Elena let the phone slip into her lap, her reflection faint in the black screen. Shame flushed hot against her skin. She had lied to him. Lied about being fine, lied about control. The boy who once left his baseball bat by the door so he could defend the house if needed now thought of her as unshakable, and she couldn’t even admit she was unraveling.
She set the phone aside and pressed both hands to the wheel, breathing deep, steady. For a moment she imagined turning the key, driving away, calling Lizi, pretending she’d spent the evening at home. She could still salvage the night. She could still be the version of herself Kevin believed in.
But the thrum of music across the street deepened, the bassline vibrating faintly through the car frame. Another burst of laughter erupted as the club doors swung open, a cascade of neon spilling across the pavement. She pictured Chloe slipping through those same doors, wide-eyed, following the glow like a moth to flame.
Elena’s stomach twisted. If Chloe’s in there, she’ll lose everything we’ve been building. One night, and she’ll slide back farther than she can climb.
Her hand shook as she pulled the keys from the ignition. The metallic jingle sounded too loud in the enclosed space. She closed her eyes, whispered, “Forgive me,” though she wasn’t sure if she spoke to Kevin, to herself, or to the rules she had sworn to uphold.
The cold air hit her face as she opened the door. She stepped out, heels clicking against the pavement, neon light washing her coat in color. The night smelled of cigarettes, perfume, and rain clinging stubbornly to the air.
She straightened, squared her shoulders, and began walking toward the entrance. The music swelled with every step, and the shame she carried pressed heavier. But beneath it ran something else—a spark of determination, sharp and dangerous.
If Chloe was inside, Elena would not let her drown alone.
- Writer
