Rising from the Ashes

by Jessica Prince

  My friends were the closest I had to any type of real family, and Jeremy and Emmy were the two most important people in all of that. With both of them turning their backs on me, I had nothing left.

  The phrase beating a dead horse was the perfect description for how my life had become. Only, it felt like someone had beaten the horse to death and then ran over it with a Mack truck for good measure.

  Apparently, losing Jeremy and Emmy avoiding me like the plague wasn’t enough. I’d just finished boxing up the last of Jeremy’s things when my cell phone started ringing. I was so consumed by what I was doing that I didn’t even bother looking at the caller ID. That was my first mistake.

  “Hello?”

  “Savannah, darling, how have you been?”

  Talking to mommy dearest was the last thing I wanted to do. I wasn’t fooled by the polite greeting. I knew she wasn’t calling to check up on me. She never did. She was calling because she needed something.

  “Mother,” I replied dryly. “I’ve been fine. How are you?”

  With that question, I knew the small talk would come to an end and she’d get to her point.

  “Fine, fine,” she rushed out. “Listen, darling, I need a favor.”

  Here we go.

  “As you know, your father is running for senator.”

  This was news to me. I had no idea my father had political aspirations. I guess I shouldn’t have been really surprised. I couldn’t help but think that I would definitely have to move if the people in our district were stupid enough to actually vote for him.

  “Your father and I are hosting a dinner at the country club tonight for some potential contributors. We need you to join us.”

  In other words, they needed me to come to the dinner to put on a show that we were some loving, happy family unit. My father needed me there so he could snow those people into thinking he was a decent family man and father. That way, they’d feel comfortable shelling out their money. I would rather give myself an at-home Brazilian wax than be caught dead at that country club with my sorry excuses for parents.

  “Sorry, Mother. I’ve just got a lot going on right now. I’m not going to be able to make it.”

  “Savannah Morgan! Your father and I ask so little of you, and you can’t even be bothered to attend one little dinner to help him. When did you turn into such a self-centered brat? I know I raised you better than to be so selfish.”

  If I had it in me, I would have laughed. She hadn’t raised me to be anything. She’d left that job to nannies and maids. Robert and Victoria Morgan hadn’t lifted a hand in raising me. The only thing either of them had ever done was knock me down every chance they’d gotten.

  There were many instances to recall, but at that moment, my mind flashed back to one time in particular.

  I was sixteen years old, and my parents were hosting their annual Christmas party. My mother had purchased a little black cocktail dress for me to wear that was completely inappropriate for a teenager.

  I was standing alone in the kitchen, trying my best to stay out of the way, when one of the partners at my father’s firm, Douglas Harrison, walked in. I’d seen him knocking back scotches all night long, and if his ruddy cheeks were any indication, he was already three sheets to the wind.

  He saw me sitting on the bar stool, and the creepy grin that spread across his face sent a chill up my spine.

  “Well, don’t you look all grown up, Savannah?” he said as he made his way over to me.

  I glanced around, hoping that someone else would wander into the kitchen, but no one did. It was just me and Mr. Harrison, who was wearing a too tight suit that showed off his potbelly.

  “Good evening, Mr. Harrison. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

  He was standing way too close for comfort and I could smell alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It was enough to make me want to puke.

  “I am, dear, and the evening just got even better,” he replied as his gaze wandered up my legs and stopped at the low neckline of my dress.

  I could have killed my mother right then and there for picking it out.

  I tried to get his perverted attention off of me. “Is Mrs. Harrison with you?”

  But he didn’t take the bait. He didn’t even acknowledge the mention of his wife. He just licked his lips, like he was eyeing a steak. The man was at least forty years my senior and looked even older, which just made his attention all the more disgusting. There was nothing even slightly attractive about him. He was fat, bald, and he seemed to always have a sheen of sweat on his pockmarked forehead.

  “What are you doing in here all by yourself?” he asked, stepping even closer and officially invading my personal space.

  I tried to scoot to the very edge of the bar stool to put some much needed distance between us, but it was pointless. “I’m not really much for parties,” I replied, trying to remain polite even though the man was seriously freaking me out.

  He caged me in against the island, making me feel trapped. It was a feeling I didn’t deal well with.

  “I’m not really much for parties either. Why don’t we go out back so we can have a little privacy?” At that moment, he ran his sausage fingers along my collarbone and across the edge of my dress.

  I shivered and tried in vain to move away from his touch. “I’m sure my father is looking for you.”

  He placed his hand on my bare knee and gave it a squeeze. “Robert can wait. What do you say we get out of here for a bit?”

  That was it. I’d officially had enough. “I suggest you get your pudgy little hand off my leg before you lose it,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “Oh, come on, honey,” he replied as he slipped his hand higher up my thigh beneath my skirt. “You know you—”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence before I grabbed a fork off the countertop and stabbed the back of his hand—hard.

  He let out a bellow and a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, drawing the attention of several party guests, including both of my parents. Mr. Harrison tried to play it off as an accident, but I could tell by the look on his wife’s face that she knew exactly what had happened. My parents banished me to my bedroom for the remainder of the party with whispered promises to deal with me after the last of the guests left.

  After changing out of that god-awful dress, I sat in my room, waiting for my punishment to come. Goose bumps broke out on my arms as I listened to the sound of my father’s shoes pounding up the stairs right before he burst through the door, followed by my mother.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” he started, completely red-faced and fuming. “Doug had to have thirteen stitches because of that little stunt you pulled. Have you lost your goddamn mind, Savannah? He’s a partner, for Christ’s sake!”

  My spine stiffened as he spoke. I didn’t know why I was surprised. I should have known better than to think either of my parents would take my side in anything. “Well, that partner was practically trying to molest me while his wife was in the other room!” I shouted. “He had his hand up my skirt, and—”

  “Well, maybe if you weren’t dressed like a two-dollar hooker, he wouldn’t have been tempted,” my father said. “You were basically asking for it.”

  I reared back like he’d just slapped me. I felt the tears starting to sting my eyes, but I’d be damned if I let them fall. I wouldn’t give my parents the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  “I wasn’t asking for anything,” I whispered. “And Mother bought that dress for me to wear tonight. If you have a problem with it, take it up with her.”

  “Don’t you dare put this on me, Savannah Morgan. When I bought you that dress, it fit perfectly. How was I to know that you were going to gain too much weight to fit into it?”

  That was complete and utter bullshit. I hadn’t gained a single pound since she purchased that dress, and she knew it. I didn’t have a chance to defend myself before my father spoke again.

  “Do you live to humiliate your mother and m
e, Savannah? Is it your goal in life to embarrass us at every turn?”

  At that, my traitorous tears finally escaped, leaking down my cheeks. I was strong, but being called a whore, fat, and an embarrassment in one sitting was too much for even me to handle. They hadn’t stuck around long enough to see them fall though. They’d plunged the knife in deep enough to garner a reaction, and then they’d turned and walked away, leaving me lying on my bed, broken once again.

  I shook myself from the awful memory of my childhood as my mother started to speak once again.

  “Is it too much to ask that you show your father some support for just a few short hours?” she asked, laying the guilt trip on heavily. “It’s the least you could do after everything you pulled as a child.”

  I prided myself on being tough enough to withstand my parents’ bullshit, but I was already on guilt overload, and I just couldn’t handle any more. That was why I caved to my mother’s request. It was yet another mistake to add to all the others I’d been racking up.

  “Fine, Mom. I’ll be there.”

  Walking into the country club was like stepping back into my past that was full of unwanted emotions and memories. I was wearing my little black dress with a delicate lace overlay and lace sleeves from Zara and my favorite Louboutin red platform pumps. My hair was pulled back into a loose chignon, and my makeup was light, but I still felt completely out of place around all of those people. That wasn’t my world. I didn’t belong there, yet somehow, I was stuck plastering on a fake smile while I associated with people I had no desire to know.

  The maître d’ walked me over to the table where my parents were sitting with two middle aged men in expensive suits.

  “Savannah, darling. We’re so glad you could join us,” my mother said with a phony smile as she stood to kiss me on the cheek. “You couldn’t have put the tiniest bit of effort into your appearance tonight?” she whispered in my ear so that no one else could hear what she was saying.

  I straightened and gave a tight-lipped smile to my father as he leaned in for an awkward one-armed hug. I hadn’t been there for thirty seconds and I’d already been insulted and made to feel unwanted. That had to be some sort of record.

  “Gentlemen,” my father exclaimed, “this lovely woman is my daughter, Savannah.”

  The enthusiasm in his voice turned my stomach because I knew it wasn’t real. He would have been more than happy not to have to deal with me. The only reason I was there was to attempt to make him look good.

  “Savannah,” he said, turning his attention to me, “this is Phillip Waters and Paul Cordova.”

  I turned to the men and replied politely, “It’s nice to meet you both.”

  The seat next to my mother was pulled out for me, so I took my seat and breathed a small sigh of relief that at least the waiter was already there, taking drink orders.

  “She’ll have a club soda,” my mother informed him when it was my turn to order.

  I knew that I should have just smiled and nodded, acting as the good daughter for the evening, but I’d be damned if I was going to be stuck having dinner with my wretched parents without alcohol to relieve my pain.

  “Actually,” I interrupted, “I’d like a vodka tonic.”

  I felt the air around me change and I knew that I’d just poked the bear, but it didn’t matter. As far as Victoria Morgan was concerned, she was the definition of class. The last thing she would do was make a scene in public. But the look she shot me when no one was paying attention spoke volumes. Clear as day, it said, Fuck this up, and I’ll ruin your life.

  As if she could possibly make it any worse than it already is.

  The waiter gave a curt nod and walked off to fill our drink orders.

  I spent the next hour and a half in bored silence as my father droned on and on about everything he had to offer. I smiled when it seemed necessary and laughed when everyone else laughed, but I wasn’t even paying attention to anything he was saying. I was on my second vodka tonic, and the effects of the alcohol were thankfully starting to work. I was starting to become blissfully numb.

  Everyone had just finished their main course and I was beginning to get excited at the prospect of leaving when Mr. Waters asked the one question I knew my parents were dreading.

  “So, Savannah, what do you do?”

  I picked up my water glass and took a healthy gulp before answering. “I work at Pruett & Carter,” I replied truthfully. I wasn’t embarrassed about my career, and I couldn’t care less if my family was.

  “Ah, I see,” Mr. Cordova said. “You followed in your father’s footsteps and became an attorney. Is there a reason you chose not to work at Morgan & Carls?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but my father cut me off. “She’s always been a tenacious girl.”

  He reached over and gave my hand a loving squeeze. At least, that was what bystanders would think it was, but I knew it was a warning to stay in check.

  “She wanted to branch out on her own to prove her worth. I commend her drive.”

  I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me when he said that. I tried my best to play it off as a cough, but there was no doubt my mother knew better. I didn’t know if it was the vodka tonics that had given me the unexpected sense of courage or the fact that I’d had absolutely enough of being dumped on to last me the rest of my life, but I could no longer sit idly by and act like the good little girl they expected me to be.

  “Actually, I’m not a lawyer,” I replied with my first genuine smile of the night. “I’m just a paralegal.”

  I could see the red creeping up my father’s neck from my peripheral vision, and I got a sick little sense of triumph, knowing I’d shaken his cool exterior. For that reason, I decided to continue. “And I always hated the atmosphere at Morgan & Carls. It’s so stuffy and pretentious, you know? Pruett & Carter is a wonderful firm.” I took that moment to stand and excuse myself to the restroom.

  I wasn’t in there for fifteen seconds before my feeling of triumph was knocked on its ass by my mother pushing through the restroom door. If the look on her face didn’t let me know just how mad she was, the next words out of her mouth did.

  “Listen here, you little brat,” she hissed out at me. “I know you’re used to hanging out with those white trash rednecks you call friends, but while you are in our presence, you will behave like a normal member of society.”

  I opened my mouth to defend my friends, but she cut me off. “You’ve been humiliating your father and me your entire life, and it ends tonight. When you walk back to that table, I expect you to act the way we raised you to act.”

  She took a step closer to me so that I could smell the mint on her breath. “If you don’t, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

  She turned on her Jimmy Choos and sauntered out of the restroom like nothing had happened while I stood there with my jaw hanging open in complete shock. As I watched my mom walk out of the restroom, it became clear. No matter what I did or how I acted, I was never going to be accepted by my parents. I’d always known that, but on some deeper level, I’d felt that they still loved me even if they didn’t show it. But neither one of my parents was capable of loving anyone but themselves. Why they ever decided to have a child in the first place was beyond me.

  The toilet in one of the stalls flushed, and heat began to creep up my neck. Someone had been in there to hear the entire conversation between me and my mother. I ran into the next stall and locked the door until I could get myself in check. I breathed in and out deeply, willing the tears that threatened to fall back down. I refused to cry over my parents. They didn’t deserve it.

  I sat on the toilet with my eyes squeezed shut as the other person in the restroom went about her business while finishing up at the sink. I finally got my tears under control and opened the stall door to see Charlotte standing at the mirror, reapplying lipstick. A shit eating grin spread across her painted lips when she saw me.

  There was no possible way my night could get any
worse.

  Hoping that she would just finish up and leave, I ignored her and walked to the mirror to fix whatever damage I’d done to my mascara. Seconds later, my luck proved to be absolute shit.

  “You’re not having a good week, are you?”

  I wanted to slap the smug smile off her freshly glossed lips.

  “First, your boyfriend, and now your parents? You just can’t stop letting people down.”

  I clenched my fists together until my knuckles were white, my nails breaking the skin on my palms. The last thing I needed was to get into a fight in the women’s room of the country club. That would be the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was my life.

  I chose not to respond, and I turned to exit the restroom before I did something I truly regretted.

  “Oh yeah, don’t think I haven’t already heard all about you and Jeremy breaking up. Just goes to show what a mistake he made when he left me for you. I’m sure he’s regretting his decision right about now. He dumped class for trash. My friends were right. It was only a matter of time before he saw the error of his ways. Don’t worry, I won’t make him grovel too much when he comes crawling back to me.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. My stomach was knotted in pain. There was no fight left in me. I just wanted to get out of there. I wanted the comforts of my own home and bed. I felt like I was suffocating. The only chance I had to breathe again was to get out of that place and away from those people. I didn’t belong.

  I yanked the door open and let my feet carry me to the dinner table. In a complete daze, I reached for my purse. As I began to turn to leave, my father grabbed my wrist to hold me in place.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked with a silent breath, trying not to draw too much attention to our exchange.

  I looked around the table at my parents and their dinner companions. I didn’t even bother to address my mother and father. “Mr. Waters, Mr. Cordova, it was lovely meeting you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to call it a night.” I jerked my hand out of my father’s grasp.