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“I’m not going,” I blew out a heavy breath. “I want to be there for grandma and grandpa. And I will be. I just won’t bethere.”
I didn’t know what kind of service my father would even have. Before I left for France, there would’ve been hundreds of people there. Important people. People he’d spent years sucking up to, throwing parties for, making sure his family looked perfect for … better than theirs for.
But my father’s fall from grace had been swift. He’d lost everything. My grandparents cut him off. And I understood how fickle and false the circles he’d been running in were. Once he wasn’t a member of the country club, he no longer existed to those men he’d golfed with for years.
He’d died alone.
I thought of the man who had gripped my wrist months ago. How desperate he was. How pathetic.
Then, without wanting to, I thought of him kissing my head when I’d woken up from a nightmare. He’d promised monsters weren’t real. That I was safe.
The man who read all of my school papers before I submitted them, concentrating on every word I wrote, smiling with pride.
It was one thing to hate a father who was pure evil Who had tortured my mother for years. It was quite another to hate a man who had been both evilandmy father.
“Violet?” my mom asked with concern.
I realized she must’ve said something, and I hadn’t replied. “Sorry, Mom, what did you say?” I rubbed my eyes. There was a wetness there that made me angry. I scrubbed it away.
“You’re not betraying me by honoring the memories you have of your father, sweetheart. Hewasyour father. You don’t have to choose a side in this. You don’t have to hold onto your anger. You can be sad about losing him.”
My heart stung at her words and all of the pain bubbling up. “I already lost him, Mom,” I choked out.
“Sweetheart—”
“Mom,” I cleared my throat. “I promise I’m okay. And I’ll be home soon, okay? For the baby. I’ve got assignments. They’re important.”
“I’m sure your professors will understand,” she tried. “I can call them.”
“No,” I replied more firmly this time. “Mom, I … can’t. I just need to get my work done. Okay?”
Her extended pause told me that she was considering pushing it. That she heard how close I was to breaking. I prayed she didn’t. I didn’t need to be prodding at things I’d buried. I especially didn’t need to be doing it right now.
I’d push all of these problems down until I graduated, and maybe a while after that, I’d manifest them in unhealthy ways and spend thousands on therapists when I was in my thirties.
Like a normal person.
“Okay,” Mom relented, and I let out a breath of relief. “But I want you to call me,” she added. “Every morning. And if it gets to be too much, I can send someone up to get you.”
I stifled a groan. “Mom, I’m an adult. If it gets to be too much, I’ll just drink myself into a stupor.”
“Not funny, Violet,” she snapped.
“Okay, okay,” I sighed. “I promise that I will change my flights if need be. But I really need to get these papers done.”
I stared at the books surrounding me, the words now nothing but a mess of shapes.
“I’m here, if you need me, darling,” Mom whispered, her voice cracking.
It took everything in me not to break down. “I know, Mom,” I murmured. “I love you. I’ve got to go.”
“Love you!” she called, and I hung up the phone.
I stared, blinking at myself in the mirror for a while. Who knew how long I would’ve sat there, all day maybe. But luckily, I had roommates who were not worried about protecting my personal space.
“Oh my god, I just did a hot yoga class … hungover. I’ve never been closer to death in my life,” Sariah exclaimed the second she walked through my door, collapsing on my bed dramatically … as she did everything dramatically.
I quickly turned, staring at where she had sunken onto my throw pillows, arranged neatly on my bed as they were every morning after I woke up. My life may have been a mess, but my space couldn’t be.
