She ignored the confusion on the older couple’s face when she scraped back her chair and almost ran for the door. There were a few people outside, chatting and smoking. Angie forced a polite smile as she pushed passed them.
One more step. Just one more step.
She repeated the words as she put distance between herself and the venue. She was running again. This time, from the fact that she’d just lied about her father being alive so she could avoid having to deal with empathy.
Her stomach rolled. Telling herself to take one more step wasn’t working anymore. She looked for the biggest tree and sank down behind it. Her one hand clutched at a throat that was closing; her other furiously brushing at tears she’d given no permission to fall.
But this was happening because she never gave herself permission to grieve. For as long as she could remember, she’d told herself to move on. To move forward. To run. When she had grieved, that one night in Korea, she’d broken down in the middle of her living room and sobbed so hard she thought she’d break into pieces, too. She’d felt so damn guilty for doing it, she’d told herself she would never give herself permission to do it again.
Except... Maybe now was the time to give herself that permission. It was time she stood still and let herself feel without trying to qualify it. Without trying to change it. To...to simply feel.
The first thing she felt was shame. Shame that she’d chosen to ignore the fact that her life had to change after her father. That she’d chosen to ignore that there was a life after her father. It had been easier to uproot herself, move to a different country, have a different job, and stay away for three years than it had been to face her grief.
Why wouldn’t it be? Establishing new routines, new habits was easier than modifying old ones. In the process she’d forgotten that the old ones weren’t things she could run from though. Not forever, anyway.
That realisation broke down the dam walls keeping out the extent of her shame. With the full force of it flooding her now, she sobbed. She covered her mouth with her hand to soften the sound, but the tears fell freely. Generously, and freely.
She cried because coming home gave her the reality check about losing her father that she’d been avoiding. She cried because she’d left her mother and sisters alone to deal with their grief. She cried because she knew she couldn’t return and expect things to go back to how they’d been when she was younger and they’d been close. She cried because even though it was a decade later, she still wanted them to be close.
She cried because though she knew she’d hurt her mother, Charlene would be glad to see her. And would immediately find a way to make Angie responsible for her emotional well-being. She cried because she was afraid Sophia would hate her; because she didn’t know what answer she’d give Zoey when her sister would ask her where she’d been.
She cried because she didn’t even know whether she could say she was truly back. She didn’t know which version of herself was back: the Angie who’d been spurred by guilt to come home and take responsibility for her family; or the Angie who hadn’t been strong enough to give them what they’d needed from her when they’d needed her the most.
She cried because she was scared that despite her best efforts, she had broken herself. That breaking herself had turned her into her mother. She cried because she missed them, even when thinking of them turned her into a mess.
She cried because...
Because she missed him.
‘Angie?’
The voice had her scrambling back against the tree. She wiped fiercely at the tears, but there was nothing she could do to obscure the fact that she’d been crying when Ezra found her. He crouched down until their eyes were level.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine. I needed a minute.’
‘I didn’t peg you as a liar,’ Ezra said, lowering himself to the ground.
‘I didn’t peg you as someone who wouldn’t have the decency to let a girl cry in peace,’ she shot back. ‘I guess we’re even.’
He gave her a half smile. ‘Careful, otherwise I might start to think you use sarcasm as a defence.’
‘Aren’t you a perceptive one?’ she said dutifully, offering him a small smile when he cocked his head.
‘I heard what happened inside there.’
Her eyes fluttered down. ‘I didn’t realise you were paying attention.’
‘Which is fair. I’ve been acting like a jerk for the last hour.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s hard to face your fears.’
‘Like going home?’ he asked and she nodded. ‘It’s fine that it’s hard. No one expects you to sail through this without struggling.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she replied, her voice catching. ‘I know what I’m coming home to, Ezra. My mother... She can’t deal with things by herself. At the slightest inkling of conflict, she shuts down. She looked to my father for as long as I can remember to direct her thoughts. How would they respond when we asked to have friends over? Or when we wanted to go out? Or when we were fighting with one another and needed a parent to intervene?’
‘But she didn’t only look to your father, did she?’ Ezra asked.
Damn him, of course he’d seen that.
She took a shaky breath. ‘No. Maybe it was because I was so much like my father that she let me lead her, too. If my dad wasn’t around, she’d revert to me. For small things like whether we wanted to go to the movies or eat out somewhere. For bigger things like when one of my sisters had faced something at school and needed help through it. She’d either ask me what I thought, or she’d let me deal with it. Over the years it just...became my reality.’
She lifted a hand and brushed at the stray tears that were now coming down.
‘It became kind of a bonding exercise for me and my dad. I’d take care of my sisters, and he’d take care of her. I’d make sure Sophia and Zo didn’t get bullied at school, Dad went with mom to her Bible study to make sure no one messed with her.’
She almost smiled. Then she remembered what she was talking about and all amusement faded. She picked at her dress.
‘That was part of the reason I ran. It terrified me to think that I’d have to deal with it alone. I wasn’t sure I could be strong, and I knew she’d expect me to be. She’d need me to be.’ She paused. ‘It would kill her to see me struggling. To see me like this.’
His eyes swept over her face. ‘What’s been happening while you’ve been away?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never had the courage to ask. My relationship with my sisters has been...strained since I left.’ She snorted. ‘Long before that.’
‘I thought you said you looked after them?’
‘I did, but they haven’t needed me for the longest time, even before I left. Not that I let myself believe that. I used the idea that they still needed me as an excuse to not face the distance that’s settled between us over the years.’ She half smiled. ‘Easier, right?’ She rubbed a hand over her face. ‘I’m a terrible person.’
‘Because your sisters had to deal with something you’ve protected them from your entire life?’ He took her hand. Rubbed his own over it. ‘That doesn’t seem like a fair evaluation.’
She hadn’t thought about it that way. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t only that she’d left Sophia and Zoey to deal with their mother. It was that she’d let her relationship with Sophia turn into little more than a utilitarian one. Can you pick up Zo from school? Has Mom eaten? Who’ll take Dad to radiation? The closest thing they’d had to a real conversation had been when she’d told Sophia she was leaving.
And Zo... Well, Angie had let that relationship turn into one she imagined a ward and guardian would have. Angie would make sure Zoey had what she needed practically, and did the bare minimum when it came to Zoey’s emotional needs.
After all, if she didn’t have to take
care of someone else’s emotions, Angie wouldn’t have to face her own.
She had told herself there’d be plenty of time to fix those relationships when they were all adults and out of the house. Then her dad had got sick... Then he was gone... And then she’d left them to deal—ignore—her grief on her own. She’d been selfish. She was their older sister, for crying out loud, and she’d been selfish.
She should have known better. She should have done better.
‘You’re still not being fair to yourself,’ he commented, studying her.
Her face heated. ‘You don’t know everything.’
‘Tell me.’
She barely needed a second to convince herself. Which would have surprised her, had it not been him. He’d caught her during an emotional breakdown in the woods. She was already vulnerable. Besides, his words seemed to have cast a spell on her lips.
‘I... I’ve been back in South Africa for over a month,’ she confessed. ‘I rented a place in Knysna and stayed there without telling my family because I needed time to come to terms with being back.’
An unsteady breath released from her mouth, and she almost gasped trying to get air back into her lungs. Still, it was better than the tears.
‘It started with me telling myself I needed a holiday. I hadn’t taken one in the years I’d been teaching. I was...’
‘Afraid?’ he asked, when she didn’t continue.
She nodded. ‘Holidays meant stopping. Stopping meant thinking. I didn’t want to think. I mean, look what’s happening to me because I’m thinking. It’s happened once before, so I know that’s why.’
She laughed softly; it sounded suspiciously like a sob. A cry for help. A symbol of her current instability.
‘I was right. This time has kept me thinking. Thinking and thinking and thinking even though I’d only designated an hour for myself to think about it each day.’ It sounded ridiculous now that she said it out loud. ‘Whenever I thought about it, I could feel the weight of it—of my decisions, of my grief, of everything—so heavy on my shoulders and on my chest and...and I couldn’t bear going home until now. Day after day after day, I couldn’t bear it. I still can’t bear it.’ She lifted her eyes to his. ‘Tell me again how that doesn’t make me terrible?’
There was a long pause, and Angie braced herself for what she knew was coming. A confirmation. She was a terrible person. She didn’t deserve to be consoled.
‘I stopped teaching at Grahamstown early in the second semester. I came to Cape Town once during that time, for an interview for the new job. Then I went back to Grahamstown. My family didn’t know that I was in Cape Town, or that I’d had an interview here.’
His eyes were a mixture of shame and defiance. ‘They think I’m only coming home now because that’s when my teaching schedule let up. Does that make me a terrible person, too?’
Chapter Ten
‘Why didn’t you tell them?’ Angie asked, her voice husky, her eyes wide from the tears.
Was it wrong for him to think her beautiful now? Like this? Of course, she was beautiful without it. He didn’t think he would ever get over how much. But now he had the honour of seeing her vulnerable. Of seeing the remnants of tears in her eyes; of seeing them red-rimmed and brimming with emotion.
Even though he hadn’t intended on telling her everything, he found himself powerless against answering her question.
‘I didn’t want to see them,’ he said simply, though the emotions were anything but. ‘I didn’t want to be reminded of...’ he trailed off. Took a breath. ‘My family is wonderful. For the most part, we have a good relationship.’
‘But?’
‘But they’re incredible people. They’re successful. They make great decisions.’
‘And?’ she prompted again. He nearly smiled.
Nearly.
‘And... I don’t fit.’
There. He said it. He told her his dirty little secret.
He half expected the world to stop around him. Or, at the very least, for his companion to respond appropriately. For her eyes to widen; for the nod that confirmed she saw it.
Instead, he got a bland stare.
‘You know that I don’t know your family, right? You’ve literally just told me that they’re great people, and while I believe you, I don’t see how that makes you the odd one out.’ When he didn’t reply, she sighed. ‘I’ll say it more plainly. You’re great, too, Ezra.’
Though his heart swelled, he shook his head. ‘Did you miss the past where I said they make great decisions?’
‘And, what? You don’t?’
He gave a bark of laughter. ‘I gave up my job, moved a thousand kilometres away from home and from my family for a woman who refused my proposal.’
‘So you’ve made mistakes.’
‘I’ve made poor decisions,’ he corrected. ‘They go back a lot further than this.’ He let out a breath. ‘They’re different from mistakes.’
‘Not sure I agree with that.’ She tilted her head. ‘Or why you think you have to punish yourself for being human?’
‘It’s not—’ He broke off. Why didn’t she understand?
Because she doesn’t know everything.
He gritted his teeth.
‘Ezra, mistakes are a part of life,’ she said softly. Kindly. Something twisted inside him. ‘This won’t be your last mistake either,’ she continued. ‘If you see them as lessons—and you should, being a lecturer and all—they won’t paralyse you.’
‘You don’t... It’s not...’
He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not even as she waited for it; quietly, patiently, as if he deserved it. As if he deserved her understanding.
How could he tell her that he hadn’t learnt from his mistakes? He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her that he’d made the same mistake twice. Or that he’d felt the same shame after. And there was no doubt in his mind that his family would feel the same disappointment they had after the first time, too.
‘My parents didn’t want me to marry Liesel,’ he said slowly, wanting—needing—to give her something. He just couldn’t bring himself to give her that. Not when it made him look like a fool. He didn’t want to look foolish in front of her. ‘My sister told me that after I called to let them know things were over between us.’
‘Tad harsh,’ Angie commented with a frown.
‘No,’ he denied. ‘Jane was...trying to make me feel better, I think. I was convinced that Liesel was perfect for me. For our family.’
‘For your family?’ she repeated. ‘That’s not a conventional way of looking at relationships.’
‘It isn’t,’ he agreed. ‘But my family’s important to me. It was important for me to have someone who got along with them, too.’
She stared at him. ‘I’m getting that you have a...special relationship with your family.’
‘But?’ he asked with a slight smile, echoing her earlier prompt.
‘But there are some serious cult vibes coming from this story.’
A beat of silence followed her words while his mind tried to wrap itself around what she was saying. Once it had, the amusement that resulted flickered through his body. It landed on his lips and he began to laugh.
‘Cult vibes?’
Her lips twitched, but she nodded. ‘I’m not even lying to you. I’ve never heard of someone wanting to be in a relationship for the sake of their family. Unless...’ she trailed off, and he waited. ‘Unless you’re super rich and it was some kind of arranged relationship? For the sake of the family business?’ Her eyes widened. ‘To keep the bloodline—no, wait, gross—to keep the money-line pure?’
He laughed again. Harder this time, and felt the tension ease from his stomach. ‘Are you thinking of writing an arranged marriage romance by any chance?’
Her cheeks pinkened. ‘Maybe. I reserve the right to write whatever
I want. Which, by the way, would be an excellent women’s studies lecture. The power women exert through choosing what they want to read or write. But I digress.’
‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘We’ll come back to it.’
Though it made no sense, his fingers itched to write down the topic. Similarly, he felt a sudden urge to read through all the romance novels he could find so he could have this conversation with her.
She smirked. More tension dissolved out his body. How could it not? She was helping him breathe when his lungs sacrificed all its air for the sake of his mistakes. And she was making him smile while she did it. Making him remember his job that he loved and the passion he had for exploring the world. After he’d confessed his darkest secret to her.
It was enough to almost make him believe in miracles.
‘My relationship with Liesel was a fantasy,’ he told her honestly. ‘My parents and grandparents, my brother and sister, were a part of that fantasy.’
‘What was the fantasy?’
That I wouldn’t be a disappointment anymore.
The words were so loud, so clear in his head it surprised him that he hadn’t said it out loud. But it was the first time it had occurred to him. The first time he’d even considered it.
Of course, he knew that Liesel had seemed like the best fit for his life. She was the perfect girlfriend. Intelligent, social, funny. She handled his family with ease...
Why had it taken him so long to realise she was handling them? Or that handling wasn’t what he’d wanted from a girlfriend? A wife?
It had taken her breaking his heart—No, he interrupted his own thoughts. She hadn’t broken his heart. She’d shattered his illusion. Of her, of them. Of their potential life together. She’d broken the fantasy.
With the realisations pouring in, he couldn’t figure out what to say to Angie. He’d first thought he hadn’t wanted to go home because he hadn’t wanted to remind his parents he was a disappointment. He worked damn hard to keep from reminding them of that fact. Liesel had been a part of that.
Returning home after a failed relationship, especially one that they’d apparently disapproved of, felt like an admission of sorts. A confession that he was, indeed, the same boy who’d decided skipping school and getting drunk with a girlfriend had been a good idea. Sure, the package was different. He was a man now. He had a PhD, an illustrious teaching job. He had some semblance of the stability he envied his parents and grandparents for. But the contents were the same.
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