I wasn’t insecure about my body, but Jesus, her confidence and who gives a fuck attitude were admirable.
“Are you excited?” she asked.
“About?”
She frowned. “You’re taking your last final today. You’re about to officially finish your first year of college.” Her brows lifted. “Doesn’t that make you happy?”
Shrugging, I turned toward the toaster that had just finished. “I guess.” Truthfully I hadn’t given it a thought one way or another.
Essie was two years older than me, finishing her junior year and studying for a degree in computer science. She wanted to be a coder or programmer or… something. Honestly, all jobs involving computers sounded the same to me. Boring.
She had known what she wanted to do halfway through high school. And when you knew what you wanted, you were generally in a hurry to get it. But me? I had no clue. I was on a generic, predetermined path that thousands before me took, and thousands after me would take.
Before she could say more—and judging by the look on her face, she had plenty to say—a knock on the door saved me. I opened it to my boyfriend’s smiling face.
John wrapped his arms around me and, with a gentle kiss to my temple, asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. Let me grab my bag.”
He stepped inside and nodded to Essie. “Hello.”
“Hey, Johnny.”
John hated the nickname. He said it was the name for a child. And truthfully she probably continued to do it just because it annoyed him.
I rolled my eyes at her as I grabbed my bag from the counter. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, babe!” she called as I shut the door.
“Are you ready for your last official day as a freshman?” John asked as he held open the car’s passenger-side door.
“Sure.” I gave him a small smile which he returned, before he nodded and shut the door. Unlike Essie, he didn’t notice anything amiss with my answer. And we didn’t say another word about it.
Later that afternoon, when I smiled at Mrs. Ryan and handed over my final exam, I waited for the relief that should come with completing my first year of college. For the sense of pride at knowing I’d finished with straight As. For happiness. For a sense of belonging.
Anything.
But just like when I talked to Essie earlier, nothing came.
I stepped out of the classroom, and my gaze roamed over the bustling hallway as I watched the other students celebrate their freedom. Not for the first time, I wondered what the heck I was doing here. Why was I going to school all the way across the country, leaving my friends and family behind, to pursue a major I had no interest in?
I knew the simple answer: to please my father. But the reasons why I wanted to make him happy eluded me. If you asked my older brother Gabe, our father had done nothing to deserve my loyalty or obedience. And yet I couldn’t bring myself to cut him out of my life. Not even after he threatened to send me away for my senior year of high school just so he could get Gabe to bend to his will. I understood my brother’s anger: our father’s condition had been for Gabe to break up with his girlfriend, Alara. Like hell he would have done that, and like hell I would’ve let him. That was something our father didn’t understand. Our loyalties and love couldn’t be bought, sold, or traded. We couldn’t be intimidated.
But while Gabe saw our father as overbearing and cruel, I was insistent that underneath it all he cared about us and thought everything he did would be for the best. Our father was dead wrong about what was best, but it was the thought that counted, right?
Before I realized what I was doing, I was wrapping my fingers around my necklace and squeezing tightly.
What would you do?
It was a question I asked often. I never got an answer in the form of words, but the feelings were enough.
And just like that, I knew I wouldn’t be coming back here next year.
There was no catastrophic event, no giant revelation, but I’d just made a decision that would alter my future in a big way.
Because life-changing moments weren’t always rooted in something complex. Sometimes they were simple; just tiny windows in time where you found yourself wondering…
What am I here for?
I was in my childhood room, standing at the foot of my king-sized bed. The soft, paisley-printed bedspread rested over it perfectly. Not a single corner was untucked, nor a wrinkle to be seen. Like always, it was immaculate. The pillows were fluffed and the blankets were neatly folded at the end of it.
I looked around, frowning at what I found.
Everything was neatly in place. My laptop, a tumbler of writing instruments, and a printer were arranged on my desk. My vanity held the little makeup I owned, directly in front of a round, lighted mirror—the kind you saw in Hollywood dressing rooms. I’d bet if I dragged a finger across the surface, I wouldn’t find a speck of dust. Our maid of almost ten years was meticulous.
The walls were painted a light pink with cream accents. And my four-poster canopy bed had white gauzy curtains fit for a princess.
It was every girl’s dream bedroom. It was perfect. Nothing was out of place.
Except for me.
I sat down at the foot of my bed, falling to my back and throwing my arms behind me until they hit the pillows.
I felt less at home here than I had almost a year ago before I’d left for school—something I’d thought impossible. Maybe it had more to do with the person in the house: my father.
My classes ended nearly a month ago, and I had stayed that extra month. Just to prove to him that I tried to make it work. When I left last year he’d been convinced I would fall in love with Dartmouth. He’d wanted me to abandon my passion—or fruitless endeavor, as he put it—for music, and do something “reliable.”
But after being gone for nearly a year, I realized that even though I knew there was more to my father’s motives, even though I believed he wasn’t as heartless as he seemed, I couldn’t keep making excuses for his actions. Nor could I keep putting my happiness on hold.
I’d missed Carillo. The current triple-digit heat that Arizona was famous for in early July aside, this place was where I belonged. I may have been confused about a lot of things, but this city wasn’t one of them.
So the added thirty days hadn’t mattered. But at least I could say I tried.
Carefully getting up, I looked down at the imprint I’d made on my comforter. But instead of fixing it, wiping away evidence I was there, I left it. I turned around and exited my room before slowly walking down the stairs and making my way to the kitchen, where my father was sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.
I stopped in the entryway and stared at him.
He didn’t lift his head, but somehow I knew he was aware of my presence. And he was as cold as ever. Maybe he always had been and I’d never noticed, but ever since Mom died, it became more obvious. For a long time, I’d just refused to see it.
It was like when you were bundled up in a cold room late at night. The cold was easy to overlook when you had the warmth of a blanket protecting you. That was my mom and dad. My mom was the warmth that’d kept me happy and content, and I could handle the cold as long as she was there.
But she wasn’t here anymore.
She wasn’t anywhere anymore.
And I was very cold. All the time.
I finally cleared my throat and stepped forward, drawing my father’s attention. He took his time looking up from his paper, and when he did, he gave me a barely there nod before refocusing on the news.
My heart broke a little more.
That was what I was worthy of, a small nod, no words, no smile, just… a nod, the kind you gave a stranger you accidently made eye contact with on the street.
Pulling my shoulders back, I felt my determination rise. “I’m not going back to Dartmouth.”
With a sigh he folded his paper and threw it to the middle of the table. “I’m not surprised.”
“I think there’s time to enroll here—”
“No. I’m not going back to college at all.”
“Sam, be reasonable. You can’t do anything without a college education these days.” He reached for his paper again, dismissing me like a small child.
“That depends on what you want to do.”
“Which is exactly why one goes to college: to find out.”
“It’s not right for me,” I said, my voice uncharacteristically loud.
“So what? You’ll bum around here?” He stood up with his coffee cup and walked to the sink. He was already dressed for work, never mind it was a Saturday.
“No. I’ll get a job—”
“Some menial job like your brother? No, I won’t allow it. Not while you’re under my roof.”
I swallowed roughly, some of my bravado leaving me. “What are you saying?”
“Either enroll in college or find a new place to live.”
“You’d kick me out? Your own daughter?” I asked.
“I don’t want to, Sam. But you and your brother can’t run around, doing whatever you want, without thinking of the consequences.”
“I am. I’m thinking I’ll be happy.”
He shook his head. “Happiness is fleeting; the tiniest thing can affect it. Money? Power? Respect? Those are guaranteed. If you work hard, if you’re driven.”
“I disagree. Mom did too—”
“And look where that got her.”
I clenched my jaw, begging my tears to stay hidden. He didn’t deserve them. “Your money couldn’t save her either, you son of a bitch.”
Before he could say anything else, I turned and walked out of the kitchen. I didn’t start running until I was outside.
I pumped my legs harder and faster, not realizing where they were taking me until I was standing in front of my mother’s grave. It wasn’t until I crumbled to the ground, my feet throbbing and blistered from the three-mile run, that I discovered I’d never even put on shoes. It wasn’t until I curled on my side and tucked my arms underneath my head that I realized I was sobbing.
“HE DID WHAT?!” ESSIE screeched. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked around the quiet restaurant. Luckily none of the other tables heard her.
I had just finished telling her about the argument with my dad, leaving out my emotional breakdown. “What an asshole,” she mumbled.
I had to bite back the urge to defend him, something I’d done as long as I could remember. But he didn’t deserve it. He probably hadn’t deserved it then, but he especially didn’t now. Not after bringing Mom into it.
“Are you still going to stay there?”
“I have to.” I swallowed back my regret. Not for my decision, but because Essie was the one good thing to come out of this past year, and I was going to miss her like crazy.
“What did John say?”
Shit.
It definitely wasn’t a good sign that I’d forgotten about him. “I haven’t told him yet,” I said as I ran my hand over my skirt. “But we’ll have to break up…”
“You don’t sound too distraught.” I definitely wasn’t imagining the hope in her voice.
Essie had always thought John was wrong for me. I knew it wasn’t because of who he was as a person. John was kind, sweet, and smart. A little dull by some standards, but otherwise he was the perfect gentleman. I met him through a friend of my father’s. My dad came to visit around Halloween and insisted I had lunch with him. I hadn’t been aware that his old friend, Walt, and his son, John, would be there too. It was obviously a setup.
But I still hadn’t known many people, so we quickly became friends. And when he asked me out four months ago, my answer came easily. I’d only had one boyfriend before him and the guy was a jerk. I’d looked forward to being treated well, and as I’d suspected, that was exactly how John treated me. Unfortunately my feelings were fading because I always knew what to expect.
Not that I wanted to be treated poorly, but there was no spontaneity with John, no spark. And that was Essie’s problem with him too. She said we lacked chemistry and passion. She kept telling me I deserved more and that settling was the worst thing I could do.
“It’s probably a good thing,” Essie continued. “Older guys are so serious. They want to slip a ring on your finger and put a baby in your belly. Next thing you know you’re sitting at home with no college degree, unfulfilled and completely dependent on the asshole responsible.”
“He’s a junior, Es. I wouldn’t exactly call him old.” Knowing what this was really about, I hesitated to say more.
Essie didn’t talk about her biological dad often, but I knew the gist. Her dad asked her mom to marry him in the middle of her sophomore year of college. By the time what would have been her senior year was starting, she was married and caring for a three-month-old Essie. It wasn’t until Essie was eight that her mother was able to leave him. She’d had no education, no money, no other family. But she was determined to leave for her daughter’s sake. She didn’t want her growing up in an emotionally abusive environment.
Her mom was happy now, and in another relationship with a woman named Sue. But Essie had seen enough and was convinced that relationships and marriage were the equivalent of a shackle and life sentence.
“I think this will be good for you,” she said softly. “You’re not happy here.”
I frowned. “You make me happy, Essie.”
“Well, duh,” she said, lightening the mood. “I’m awesome—obviously you’ll miss me. But don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Good,” I said on a laugh just as Gabe walked through the front door. “Hey, listen. I gotta go. But we’ll talk soon?”
“We’d better.” I heard the smile in her voice as we hung up.
Gabe spotted me and was sporting a wide grin as he quickly weaved around the tables toward me. I’d barely gotten out of my chair when he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I laughed. “Are you happy to see me or something?”
“Yes,” he whispered, sounding completely serious. With one last squeeze, he set me back on the ground before pulling away and staring down at me. His hands were still on my shoulders and he smiled softly.
“How are you?” he asked, his gaze roaming around my face before he frowned. “You look tired.”
With a sigh, I stepped out of his embrace and sat down. “Yeah. Yesterday was stressful.”
Gabe’s frown intensified as he took a seat across from me. “What happened?”
“I told Dad I wasn’t going back to Dartmouth.”
My brother’s eyebrows skyrocketed into his hairline. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m not… it’s not bad, but it’s not for me.”
He smiled but it quickly fell. “I don’t understand. That’s great news. What has you stressed?”
Looking down, I scratched a nonexistent itch behind my ear. I knew Gabe wouldn’t take this well—no one would. But for some reason I still felt responsible for trying to keep our family together.
Don’t get me wrong. I was furious with my father. The difference between my brother and me was I still believed our father would one day see that what he was doing wasn’t helping, but hurting us. He could have been indifferent about his children—that would have probably been easier for him. Instead he tried to give us better lives.
Gabe sat silently as I explained all of it to him. His fists were clenched and his face was lined with tension. I told him about how I’d felt standing outside my last class a month ago. I told him about the relief that flooded me when I stepped off the plane a week ago and realized I was home. I told him everything, including how I ran out of the house yesterday morning, distraught. I left out t
he part where I forgot shoes and collapsed in front of Mom’s grave. There was only so much I could put on my brother’s shoulders.
When I finished I slumped back against my chair, exhausted from reliving yesterday twice in fifteen minutes.
“Are you done?” he asked after a minute.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well first of all, fuck him.” Gabe held up his hand when I made a move to talk. “Him trying to give us his version of a better life isn’t because he loves us. It’s because he’s a controlling asshole.”
I stayed quiet. Some part of me knew he was right. Knew my hope was born out of desperation, and that there were no facts to back up my wish that our father would change.
“Second of all, you’re not screwed. You can come stay with Alara and me.”
“I appreciate the offer. You know I do. But I think he was right. Even though he went about it the wrong way. I do need to get a job and try to make it on my own. What if he wasn’t here? What if we didn’t have his money?”
He shook his head. “I hate those questions. What if? What if? What if? They’re pointless, Sam, and endless. If he knew you at all, he’d know you were capable of doing anything. I don’t need to put you in every situation imaginable to prove that.”
“Still, I enjoyed rooming with Essie. I’d like to have that again.”
Gabe leaned forward, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “Of course. Whatever you want I’ll support.”
“Thank you,” I said with a smile as he let go and we both picked up our menus.
“That’s what loving a person looks like,” he said. I saw him smirk over the top of my menu.
“Like brother, like sister,” Gabe mused after we ordered.
“What?”
“I was doing the same thing almost two years ago. Starting over and asking myself what I really wanted. I had to find a job. A place to live.”
“I think I know what I want,” I admitted. “I guess it’s just about having the courage to take it.”
Unveiling Hope Page 2
