I turn to look at Gabe, but he doesn't say anything. His father did ask me, so I should answer him. “I was having a bad morning. So much so that it irked me when he called me ma'am. I said a few things and then told him to give me my ticket already. He said okay and did just that. Can't blame him either because I deserved it, especially for some of the things I said.”
The guys laugh, and Keith speaks up. “How in the world did that turn into you two dating?”
“Ryan is trouble, plain and simple,” Gabe says, his thumbs moving up and down over my lower back while keeping his hands on my hips. “And it's very hard to say no when she catches you off guard.”
“Hey,” I start defensively, turning a bit in his lap to look at him. “Have I had to use my card yet? No, so I'm not that much trouble.”
He laughs. “Good point.”
“Let's eat,” his mother calls from the dining room, halting the conversation.
Everyone stands simultaneously and heads into the other room. This time, Gabe is on one side and Keith is on the other as we take a seat at the large table. I stay quiet as we all hold hands, and Larry says prayer. Once food gets distributed to everyone, his mother, Camilla, decides to start talking to me. Or should I say, interrogate me.
“So you're in college?” She asks.
“Yes, ma'am.” It's best to be as polite as possible. “I'm in my second year, and my major is art, thanks to Gabe,” I finish.
“Thanks to Gabriel?” Camilla frowns in confusion.
“Yes, he was the one who helped me figure out what I wanted to major in, Mrs. O'Connor.”
She's still frowning, but she continues her interrogation anyway. She should have been an interrogator for the police because she's fucking intimidating. “And do you work as well?”
“No, ma'am. My parents want me to put all my focus on school, so they pay for my expenses.” That should be a good thing to say, right? Because it means I'm concentrating all my efforts on my education.
“Your parents have lots of money then?”
“Mom,” Gabe protests. “Why does that matter?”
“I only want to make sure that she's not a young, rich, spoiled brat looking for someone to take care of her when her parents decide to stop doing it for her. You're my son, Gabriel, and you often fall for girls who aren't any good for you. I only want what's best for you.”
Is she serious? This is fucking ridiculous. Gabe doesn't say a word as he stares at his mother, his mouth closed. He isn't going to say anything. The moment has come, and he's not going to mutter a damn word. I decide then and there that I'm done. The table rattles as I slam my napkin down.
“I think Gabriel,” he flinches next to me as the rage courses through me, “is old enough, as you love to point out to me, and smart enough to handle himself. I'm sorry that you have to be rude with the most ridiculous fucking questions that don't have a damn thing to do with who I am as a person.” I turn to Gabe. “And Gabe, thanks a lot for standing up for me. I can clearly see how much I mean to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have my own fucking problems to deal with instead of your family.”
The sound of my chair scraping back is deafening in the room, and I stalk out of there as fast as I can.
“Ryan, wait,” Gabe pleads from behind me as I swing the front door open and keep walking.
“Don't even,” I call over my shoulder. I was right. Damn it, I was right. He's not even going to stand up for me, and I guess I shouldn't have expected him to do it. See what happens when I have stupid expectations? People fail me. At least now I know how my parents feel.
“Let me take you home.”
“No!” I yell, turning to face him.
“Ryan, I didn't say anything because-” he attempts to explain, but I don't want to hear any of it.
“Because you're a goody-two shoes who can't go up against his mother. Viv will come get me. Go enjoy your day with your family.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I'm taking you home.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me to his car. “And you're going to calm down, so I can talk to you,” he says, ushering me into the passenger seat before slamming the door.
I don't want to be around him, but if he needs closure, then he can have it. Let him say whatever he wants. It doesn't matter because this was a terrible idea. Another massive mistake. Gabe backs out, putting more force on the gas than necessary. Once we're on the road, he starts talking.
“Look, I didn't say anything because I was shocked by what my mom said. I've never seen her be so critical before, so I couldn't believe it. You don't need to be pissed at me because I was five seconds away from defending you before you went and made a fool of yourself.”
“You've got to be kidding me! Standing up for myself was me being a fool? What the hell did you expect to happen, Gabe? Look at me! Do you not remember what she said when she came over? Do you not remember what my own damn parents are like? I told you from the start that I am not meet-the-parents material, and there's your proof. I want to believe you, I really do, but I don't think you would have said anything to her. That's your mother, and you said so yourself that her opinion matters to you. There's her stupid, fucking opinion from hell. I don't think for a second that you would go against your family.”
My rant lasted all the way to my apartment, and I couldn't be happier to be here. I quickly get out of the car, briskly walking towards the building.
“She's being overprotective,” Gabe tries to defend from behind me.
“You're twenty-five! Do you seriously need your mother to look out for you? To protect you from me? Because that's what you're saying.” I shove the key into my door and find that it's not locked. Oh, hell no. Not today. Sure enough, my parents are inside, dragging an annoyed and frustrated groan from me. “Why the hell are y'all here? Can't y'all ever call before you come?”
“Quit being so dramatic, Ryan. It's Thanksgiving. You told us you were staying here, so we came to tell you that we've picked a degree for you,” her mother says. “We didn't know that you would be out with him.”
“I'm seriously not in the mood for this, Mom. Please come back another day.”
“Ryan,” my dad speaks up. “This is our last day in town. We rather not waste time with your silly, girly tantrums.”
What an ass! I walk in front of where they are sitting on my couch, fold my arms over my chest, and glare at them. “Well, waste no more time, because I'm majoring in art.”
Mom's mouth hangs open. “Where did that even come from? You can't be serious, Ryan. That's a terrible decision. We should have never left you here alone because you obviously can't make good, reasonable decisions. Although, I guess we should have expected as much.”
“Stop! Just stop!” I erupt with long overdue fury, finally letting it loose. This is not the day for them to rain down their shit on me after what I just went through with Gabe. “I'm so tired of hearing how nothing I do is good enough. What the hell do you expect me to do, Mom? I have been the best I can possibly be for you, and that bit of fucking effort means nothing to neither of you!” I point back and forth between my parents. “Because of you, I don't have a fucking clue about what I want to do with my life because I've been busy trying to please you and make you proud. It's pointless because you don't give a damn. You set me up for failure with your ridiculous expectations.
“I'm sorry I'm not a boy. I'm sorry I don't play football and baseball or any other boy sport. I'm sorry I can't walk in Dad's footsteps. I'm sorry I don't wear suits and care about business. I'm sorry I didn't ask for a sports car. I'm sorry I like shopping. I'm sorry tradition says you'll pay for a wedding. I'm sorry father-daughter dances sound so fucking horrible. I'm sorry pink disgusts you. I'm sorry that you think I'm a quitter because nothing I liked growing up was worth 'wasting' your precious money on or because you insisted I do the impossible. I'm sorry that because of the stupid fact I'm a damn girl that I can't do anything right. I'm sorry my absolute best is shit to you, and that I can't do what's expected of me b
ecause you expect more, which isn't even possible! I'm sorry that all your dreams died with me.
“But you know what? I don't care anymore! Fuck you both.” I take a deep breath, noticing the stunned faces in the room. “Fuck you too, Gabe. Now, if you don't mind, all of you can go to hell and get out of my apartment!”
The pure rage runs through me, and my hands are aching to do something. I walk into my kitchen, ignoring them and hoping they'll just leave. My hip bumps into the counter, and I scream in frustration, yanking open the dishwasher. Yes. Breaking something will release some of this from me. I grab a glass plate, hold it over my head, and then throw it down on the floor. A frantic energy buzzes through me with a touch of excitement. God, that felt good.
I pull out the top rack, picking up the first glass thing I find. A bowl. It crashes to the floor, shattering to pieces, and mixing with the remnants of the plate. Faintly, I hear my mother shouting for me to stop, but the sound of her voice fuels me to do it again, but with a cup this time. When I lift a bowl above my head, hands grab my wrists.
“Stop it, Ryan,” Gabe says quietly from behind me.
“Let me go!” I try to twist my wrists free, but his grip is too strong.
“No. You need to stop.”
His soft tone breaks through my anger. “Fine,” I mutter. He takes the bowl from my hands. “Everyone needs to leave. Now.” I turn to face my parents, but I'm speaking to Gabe as well. “Either y'all leave or I will.”
My parents actually look terrified by my outburst and fit of rage. They nod solemnly before walking out, leaving only Gabe for me to get rid of.
“Ryan,” he starts.
“No, Gabe,” I interrupt quietly, facing him completely now. With as much strength as I can muster, I continue, “I've been worrying about letting you down and not meeting your and your family's expectations. Not once did I consider that our roles would reverse, and you would be the one to let me down.” His mouth parts to speak, but nothing comes and I finish, “Just go home. I don't want to deal with anything yet, and I need to clean up. Please go.”
He closes this mouth, nods reluctantly, and then he's gone too. Part of me wishes Gabe wouldn't listen to me. That he would make me listen, but I can't blame him for leaving when I asked him to go. It wouldn't be right to expect two opposite behaviors from him, and in the end, I'm more grateful that he is giving me space than staying. I stare at what remains of my dishes. This day has gone to hell in a hand basket, that's for sure. I leave the mess of broken glass on my floor. Once I lock my door, I go to my room, texting Viv that I've gotten terribly sick and can't go shopping tomorrow. She's with her family, so I know it may be awhile before she responds. I hook my phone up to the speakers, turning on my rock playlist, and flop onto my bed.
I can't believe that I completely broke down, not only in front of my parents, but Gabe too. I don't know why I care though. He doesn't. He couldn't even defend me to his mother. This has to be the worst day of my life. While I lay, listening to “Crazy Bitch”, I realize that staying here probably isn't a good idea. Viv has a key, my parents have a key, and Gabe knows that he can find me here if he decides to come back to talk to me.
Getting up, I start packing some bags. I don't want to see anyone and the only way to make sure that happens is to go stay somewhere else. So I shove some clothes and other necessities into a bag, grab my other things, and leave for a hotel downtown. It takes a couple stops to find a hotel with a vacancy, but I do. A few calls from Gabe and texts from Viv filter in, so I turn off my phone.
The relentless thoughts continue to plague my mind. I stuff my face with desserts from room service while I think. I probably ruined things with Gabe if he was telling the truth about how he would have defended me to his mother. The fiasco with my parents doesn't even bother me. Not in comparison to things with Gabe. My parents aren't ever going anywhere. There is no guarantee that I'm going to have Gabe in my life at all, much less for forever. Not that I can say I want that. Picking a major freaked me out. I doubt I could say I knew for sure that I wanted Gabe.
Once again, I find myself being pulled in a million different directions, it seems. The art museum and that fire painting come to mind. I look up their hours online and find that they are open tomorrow. Maybe that will make all this shit go away for a little while.
Chapter Thirteen
Gabe
I storm back to my parents' house after leaving Ryan's. Leaving her alone was the last thing I wanted to do, but I didn't want to make things worse. If she needs time, I'll give her some. But not for long because now, I do need to swoop in like Prince Charming and fix this mess. When Ryan told me that I let her down, I couldn't find words to defend myself. As soon as the words left her mouth, I realized that was my fear with Ryan, and that it had come true. I let her down and in the worst way possible. I disappointed her. I failed to meet her expectations. A couple seconds of silence and my mother made me hurt her. She expected more, and that's exactly what she deserved.
Right now, I need to find out what my mother was thinking when she opened her mouth. If she was thinking at all. Things appear to have continued relatively normally. The guys are in the living room, watching TV, and the girls are cleaning up in the kitchen. The door slams loudly behind me, causing them to look at me.
“Gabriel,” my father starts with a small warning in his voice.
I ignore him and burst through the swinging door to the kitchen. Everything halts as the women turn to look at me. My eyes find my mother's. I wasn't lying when I told Ryan that I was shocked by what she said. She's never been so hard on a girl before. That wasn't how the day was supposed to go. Not in the least. I have to find out what in the world happened.
“I would like to speak with you,” I say calmly.
Mom nods, and wordlessly the others leave the room. “Gabriel,” she begins.
“What was that?” I harshly ask, my hands clenching in fists at my sides. Now that I'm back here, I'm pissed.
“I'm sorry-”
“You should be! Ryan has been worrying ever since I asked her to come here. I told her she had nothing to worry about, and you go and say that she's a rich brat wanting me to take care of her?! Where did you even get that impression, Mom? When have I ever said something like that about Ryan?”
She wrings her hands together. I've never spoken to my mother this way, but then again, I've never had a reason. “You didn't. I was out of line, I know, but I was worried about you overlooking signs that show she's no good for you. You've done it before, and she's young-”
“I don't care, Mom!” I interrupt, irritated that she's still on that. “There's nothing wrong with Ryan! Not her age, her tattoos, or her personality.” I take a deep breath to calm my anger. “She is amazing, and there's a lot you don't know about her because I haven't told you. There's no way for me to explain how beautiful a person Ryan is without telling you everything about her, but I shouldn't have to do that. I asked you not to judge, Mom. I asked you to ignore what you saw and get to know her. You went into that dinner with the intentions to grill her until you found a reason to doubt me. And now, she doesn't want me near her.
“I love you, Mom, but you have to stop. You care and want to protect me, and I get that. But I learned from my mistakes, and I'm twenty-five! I can take care of myself. You can't ruin my relationship just because you have this absurd idea that Ryan isn't a good person. I'm in a relationship with her, not you! An open mind, so you could get to know her is all I asked for, Mom. Instead, you completely overstepped, jumped to conclusions, and didn't treat Ryan anywhere near to how she deserved to be treated.”
“Gabriel,” my father says from behind me, interrupting my rant.
With another deep breath, I try to tone down my words one last time. “Ryan isn't like anyone I've ever dated before. You should have trusted my judgment. Even if you didn't, you still shouldn't have said those things because now, I have to go fix what you've broken.”
Turning around, I brush past my
father and leave before anything else could be said. I'm not in the mood to be around everyone any longer or hear an apology from Mom. What I really want is to go check on Ryan, but I go on to my house. She probably needs more time to cool down, and I most definitely do not want to interrupt and cause her to need even more time. When I get home, I shower and then lay down on the couch to watch TV.
I do call Ryan twice. She doesn't answer, so I leave a simple voicemail, asking her to call me back. She doesn't. Just in case she calls at a late hour, deciding she does want to talk, I try to stay up. My eyes start to get heavy during a late night talk show, and before long, I drift to sleep.
* * *
My phone blares loudly as my eyes squint open. A pain shoots through my neck thanks to falling asleep on the couch. I sit up, look around for my phone, and find it on the floor under the coffee table. It must have fallen while I was sleeping. My hope is that it's Ryan, but one look at the unfamiliar number diminishes my hopes.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Gabe? It's Vivian. Is Ryan with you?” She sounds a bit panicked, which immediately brings me to attention.
“No, she isn't. She's not with you?” I'm positive she told me that they were going shopping today.
“No. I just got to her apartment to check on her because she cancelled on me yesterday and her phone keeps going to voicemail. She's not here, and I wondered if she might be with you. Oh, God!” She screams.
“What is it?” My body tenses waiting to hear what's going on.
“There's broken glass all over the kitchen floor! What-”
“Ryan did that yesterday while I was there. It wasn't a good day,” I sigh, remembering it all. “You don't know where she might have gone?”
“No. She's never disappeared before.”
“I'm sure she's fine, but I'll try to get up with her, okay?”
That soothes her as she demands I call her the moment I hear from Ryan. As I get dressed, I wonder where Ryan is. She didn't clean up, like she told me she needed to do. Instead, she left. Where would she have gone? I'm not sure what I should do, so I drive around, looking for her car, and feeling a bit on the stalker-ish side. But then I spot it in the parking lot of the art museum. It's kind of hard to miss because there aren't many cars there in the first place.
You Before Me Page 19
