The Facade


A litter of students crowd the fine cut grass of our school. I literally live ten minutes away walking distance but Dylan believes that since I‘m a girl, if something happens to me, I won’t know how to handle myself.
The rumbling sound of an engine approaches in the distance. Around me, eyes are glued down the street, seeing nothing but hearing the fifty-five thousand dollar car nearing the school. Each day, my brother picks me up and each day, students are still fascinated by his Shelby GT500. I open the door to the sleek, shiny, grey car that mimics a skunk with two black stripes down the front.

“Hey Dill, how was your day?” His grunt prepares me for a long rant on the miseries of humanity.

“Your father James is incompetent. All he was asked to do by Victoria was build a shelving unit for her closet of shoes. A simple task. All it involved was the shaving and cutting of some wood, measuring, tools and a few nails. But do you think he was capable of doing that? Of course not. Instead, he goes to Canadian Tire and orders a shelving unit to be installed,” he rolls his eyes to express is great disapproval of our father.
“I don’t get it, what’s the big deal?” I ask.
“It’s no surprise that you don’t see the issue. Your mother wanted her shelving until built by her husband. Her husband went against her desire. What kind of husband can’t please his wife in such a simple way? James is a lazy good for nothing man and even if he did build it, I guarantee he’d build it incorrectly.” He slaps the steering wheel causing my eyes to blink and my heart to jump. “I’m sick of this man displeasing Victoria.”


We pull up along the circular drive way leading up a set of massive stairs. “There’s nothing you can do about it so you mine as well stop letting is get to you.” I open the door and am bombarded by the delicious, warm smell of apple pie. Forgetting my brother’s melodrama, I head to the treasure like smell. “Hello mummy, I’m home,” I announce.
She smiles, “I know, the house told me.” Each time the front of back door opens, the house says, ‘door open’ or ‘door close.’ A popular commodity in gated communities.
“So mama, how was your day?” I jump and twirl around her as she brushes the flour off of her cutting board, finishing up the last touches of her cleaning.
“It was fine; I’ve got a lot done today. You seem awfully giddy today, did something spe-,” cut off by the roar of my brothers voice, she sighs.
“There’s nothing James can do right, I have to fix his mistake now. I’ve called and cancelled the order, I’m going to pick up the supplies to build the shelves right after I add some books to my collection.”
My mom takes off her apron looking defeated and tired. “Why would you do that Dylan?” She is speaking in an intentionally calm voice to avoid setting Dylan off.
He runs his hand along his silky shiny hair, so perfect that it doesn’t need gel. It’s the perfect addition to his flawless face. He holds the stair case banister, “because I’m better than that.” With that, he walks upstairs, leaving my mom with glossy eyes.

I knock on the white door with a sign saying ‘genius at work.’ “Yeah,” says Dylan. I enter a room with indigo coloured walls. His queen size bed takes up most of the space in the room because it’s in the centre. When you open the door, the first thing someone notices is the bed with white, feather filled covers. To the left of the bed is a glass desk that is covered by many books and a computer monitor. He’s grabbing the books off the desk one at a time as he alphabetically organizes his books on the shelf. ‘1984, Art of War, Crime and Punishment, Leadership is an Art, The Plague and Being and Nothingness,’ are the first set of books he adds.
I pull out the swivel chair from the desk, “you have to stop bagging on dad when mom is around. You know it makes her feel insecure.”
He turns to me, fists clenched at his side, “Victoria deserves a man. Not him.”
“Well that’s too bad because he is the man she chose. You need to get over it. You don’t control everything.” He slams his hand on the desk, so heavily that I’m almost certain the glass will shatter.
“Get out of my room now!”
I calmly put the chair back but right when I’m at the door, I say, “your control is running out. I’m going to university in the states starting in September,” he doesn’t look up, only rolls his eyes, so I continue. “And as for mom and dad, they’re renewing their vows in two weeks from now.” When his eyes meet mine directly, I close the door knowing perfectly well this is going to set him on the edge.

“Hey, is Dylan done putting up the shelves yet?” I say as I bounce from one foot to the other. My mom is sitting on the white couch in her black, silk robe reading a Readers Digest magazine.
“Almost, he’s putting them up right now.” Her face looks solemn and the bags under her eyes have darkened. “Do you want to help me with my vows?” Her voice cracks when she says vows. I watch her hands for a few seconds after the question only to see her struggling to put all her effort into squeezing her index finger and thumb together. I taught her to do that when she needs to hold in tears.
“Yeah sure, what do you got so far?” My butt lands firmly on the cloud couch while my feet rest on the cedar table in front of me.
“James, you are my sanctuary. My life has changed because of yo-,” she’s cut off by the sound of Dylan’s voice.
“Bullshit,” he laughs. “That man does not make you happy.” Once again, the tears in mom’s eyes begin to sparkle.
“Dylan, stop it,” I command knowing it won’t do any good. The soft, unusually pale arm of my mother’s rests on my leg.
“It’s okay,” she says to me then turns to the young man dressed in all black. “I need to talk to you,” she says in a stern voice. He bites his lip and replies with a smirk. He walks under the stairs into the den expectantly. I watch my mom carry her small, tired body to the black door in front of the couch.
Silence fills the air. It sounds even more quiet than when mom and Dill went in the room. I listen intently to nothingness then I hear three soft thumps. “Mom, are you okay?” My legs swoop over to the door and my hands bangs on the door with the side of my fist. Just when I’m about to throw another hard knock, my fist just meets the face of Dylan.
“What happened?” He shakes his head, put his hand on my shoulder and steers my body out of his way. “James is not good enough for Victoria.”

My neck cranes behind me, enabling me to watch him stride away. I turn back, looking at the single tear dancing down my moms cheek. She puts a few hairs back in place. “Your head, what’s wrong with your head?” My arms flies to grab her hand but she yanks back.
“Nothing, nothing is wrong with my head,” she says, intending to reassure me. My hand beats her to the race to cover the small patch of missing hair exposing her creamy scalp.
My eyes widen, practically bulging out of my face. “Why do you have a bald spot? Mom, what’s wrong?” Another tear escapes her eye.
“Nothing, drop it.” With that, she exit’s the room, leaving me standing there helpless and confused.


My eyes travel over the blue satin dress sprawled along my bed. I zip up the bag and put the newly bought dress behind a pair of French doors leading to my walk-in closet. I smile at the girl in the mirror, fall to my bed and survey my ceiling. A scatter of pictures forming a collage cover a square of my ceiling. There’s a picture of Dylan’s arm lounging on my moms shoulder. There’s another picture of Dylan sitting on his knees with Victoria’s arms clasped protectively around his neck. I’m distracted from staring at my ceiling by a knock on the door.

“Serenity, can you please get my tuxedo from Dylan’s room? I accidentally gave your mom the wrong one to put in.” Without question, I get my father’s tuxedo from his sons room.

The room is dark except from the single beam of the residing sun. The light shins on a book on his large bed, ‘Seductions of Crime: Moral and Sensual Attractions.’ I grab the tux and rest it on his chair. I sit on the bed and examine the room. Everything is neat and orderly, and eighteen year old boy would never be expected to reside in this room. The walls are blank. There is only a bed, a desk, a dresser, a bookshelf and two doors. The sunlight is quickly diminishing, signalling me that I’ve been in this room for too long. Just as I grab the cold door handle, I’m stopped by a picture of my mom sitting on the dark dresser.

Startled, my arm jumps and drops the picture, shattering the glass. I grab my arm in hopes of soothing the throbbing pain from my brother opening the door on me. He ignores my tightly grasped arm and stares directly at the broken picture. “Get out.” He grabs my aching arm, tosses me into the hall and slams my door. I put my ear to the door and listen to the little pieces of glass clatter.



I wake up, dreading the day ahead of me. The treasure like sunlight shines on the closet that my dress for today’s vow renewal ceremony is tucked in. I go downstairs, confused by the lack of commotion, confused by the complete silence. In the kitchen, a plate of pancakes sits welcomingly on the island. Ignoring them, I head to the living room. My father and mother are both not there. I head back upstairs to my brothers room. The door is cracked open. I push the door open a little more; the book is gone along with my mom’s picture and his suit for today. I open the door to my parent’s room. My mom’s dress that was hanging on the front of her closet door is gone and so is she. I step in, welcomed by the feeling of a bag beginning held over my head as I struggle to breath.


My numb, trembling body rests against the floor of the doorway. In my few moments of clear vision, I stare at the red circle peacefully lying upon my dad’s sheet of vows.

The quiet begins to grow as the last person exits my house leaving me alone with a paper and books. I watch the blue and red lights alarm the people in the houses. The lifeless body hidden under the white sheet on top of the gurney leaves along with the sirens. My eyes close and tears waltz.