But no one looked up. Mom finally turned.
“Oh, you’re home early. We’re just watching something silly. You probably wouldn’t like it. It’s about relationships.”
Lauren smirked.
“Yeah. M doesn’t do relationships. She does spreadsheets. End of do.”
I dropped my bag on the chair.
“You’re right.” I said spreadsheets don’t cheat.
That got their attention. Mom shot me a warning look. Lauren rolled her eyes.
“You know what your problem is?” she said, slurring slightly. “You think discipline makes you better than everyone else, but it just makes you boring.”
“Boring’s underrated,” I said. “people don’t bleed to death from boring.”
Mom sighed, rubbing her temples.
“Girls, please. Can we not turn every evening into a competition?”
Lauren grinned.
“It’s not a competition if one person always loses.”
I could feel the tension building, sharp and familiar. It was the same dance we’d done our whole lives. She provoked. I ignored. Mom played referee. I’d seen actual cyber attacks unfold with less predictability. I walked to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Behind me, I could hear Lauren whisper something, then laughter. I didn’t turn around. The next morning, I woke to find mom making pancakes.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, like last night hadn’t happened. “Lenn stopping by later.”
She said she wants to apologize.
“That’ll be a first,” I muttered.
Mom frowned.
“You could try to meet her halfway, Emma. She’s been under a lot of pressure.”
pressure. Lauren’s version of pressure was a bad hair day or a deal falling through. Mine involved encrypted threats and federal protocols, but sure, let’s call it even. At work that day, I briefed Captain Moore again. Afterward, he stopped me at the door.
“You good?” Called well.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve been off lately. Keep your focus.”
“I’m fine,” I said, and meant it. I was fine at work. I was always fine there. That night, I found Lauren sitting in the kitchen when I got home.
“Hey,” she said, trying for casual. “Look about yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, setting down my keys.
“No, seriously,” she insisted. “I was a jerk.”
“That’s a safe bet.”
“And if,” she laughed awkwardly. “You’re still funny in that robotic way.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Wow, heartfelt apology.”
She shrugged.
“What do you want me to say? You and I are just different.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I noticed.”
She poured herself another glass of wine and leaned against the counter.
“You ever think maybe you take life too seriously? You’re always so controlled.”
“Discipline,” I said. “That’s what it’s called. A dack.”
