Page 71 of Cain
Elaine greets us at the door and hugs me like I’ve always been hers.
We’ve met a few times, but this is the first where we’re going to be together for a whole week. She smells of lavender and butter, and calls me sweetheart.
Robert, Cain’s father, is tall and broad like him. He has Cain’s kind eyes.
They’re a handsome family—the kind that looks like they belong in a catalog for something expensive and effortless. Thewomen are all blonde, the men dark-haired, every one of them with piercing blue eyes. I feel like a smudge on a clean page, out of place with my mixed background and skin several shades darker than theirs. I don’t even know who I inherited it from.
It doesn’t take long for me to settle in.
There’s no awkwardness, no sizing me up. Just warmth.
I’d been nervous for no good reason.
Cain’s parents’ home hums with life and smells like Thanksgiving. The kitchen is a flurry of motion—pots bubbling on the stove, spices in the air, music playing from a Bose speaker.
I help Elaine chop carrots while she tells me embarrassing stories about Cain’s teenage years. He rolls his eyes. Robert laughs out loud.
They’re so full of love I could cry.
Paula arrives later, her car tires crunching on the gravel driveway. She has a job now. She’s a barista. She had the morning and afternoon shift.
Elaine tells me that Paula is taking her new chance at life seriously.
I see Cain’s sister through the kitchen window before I hear the door open.
She comes in, looking nothing like the woman who tried to ruin me. Her hair is shorter now, tucked behind her ears.
She’s wearing a plain navy sweater and jeans. Her makeup is almost nonexistent. No designer shit on her body. No expensive goop on her face.
She looks stripped down.
Real.
More beautiful than before.
When she walks in, there’s a beat of tension. But I go to her. Embrace her. She’s Cain’s sister. I love him and he loves her. I have already forgiven her.
“How can you just let it go?” Cain asks when I tell him I’m okay with seeing Paula at his parents’ place.
“Carrying it is a burden. Letting it go means I don’t have it weighing me down.”
“Sometimes I feel like you’re older than me,” he admits.
“Not older but definitely wiser,” I tease.
“Faith,” Paula whispers when I step back. “I’m so sorry.”
I stare at her, and for a moment, the room fades.
I see the woman who had me arrested. Who weaponized her proximity to Cain. Who treated me like I was disposable.
But I also see her guilt. Her effort to be a better person.
I shrug. “It’s forgotten. Let’s move forward. Tell me about your job.”
Her eyes fill with tears. This time,shehugsme.
It doesn’t feel like performance. It feels like someone trying to be human again.
