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"You’re going to kick its ass," he told me, sliding his arms around my neck and planting a kiss on top of my head. "You should be so proud of yourself, Selina."
"I am," I admitted. God, it was still strange for me to say it out loud, admit how proud of myself I actually was, but it was the truth. I had worked my ass off these last few months to get the qualifications I needed to take my first year of psychology at the university, and, as of this morning, I had officially received my acceptance. In a few weeks, I would be starting my first semester, amongst all the other students who were beginning their careers.
It felt like I was finally catching up on all the time I had missed out on, all the life that had gone unlived. I was still young, only twenty-six, and I was starting to realize how much I had ahead of me, how much I had to enjoy.
Like my very first apartment. Paulo and I had moved in together the month before, out of the mansion that I’d stayed in when I’d first arrived, and into a real home, all our own; a penthouse, which I was helping to pay the mortgage on with my little waitressing job every weekend. It wasn’t much, and Paulo had told me over and over again that he was more than capable of affording it himself, but I insisted. I wanted to feel useful around here, and this seemed to be the perfect way to make it happen.
I got to my feet and headed over to the kitchen, where Paulo had put a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne on ice for me in preparation for my acceptance. I had told him it seemed a little overboard, but he had insisted. He always wanted to celebrate the little victories, but this seemed like a little too much, even for him. Hey, I wasn’t going to complain—it was nice to have someone always cheering in my corner, even when I didn’t feel like it myself.
And, some days, I really didn’t. Even though I had been in therapy for nearly six months now, there were still days where I struggled—days where all I could think about was using. Paulo seemed to be able to sniff them out whenever they happened, though, and he guided me in the right direction, making sure I could rely on him, vent to him, use him for distraction, whatever I needed.
But those days were getting fewer and farther between, and that was what mattered most. I knew I would never be able to leave behind what had happened, not entirely, but it got easier and easier not to let it consume me.
I poured the champagne into two glasses, and I was about to bring one through to Paulo when I heard a buzz on the door. I jumped and then turned to Paulo, a frown on my face.
"Is someone visiting today?” I asked. He usually let me know when there were people coming over, so I could prepare myself for it, but the grin on his face told me this was meant to be a surprise.
"I invited a few people over to celebrate," he told me, grinning, as he made his way to the door. I cocked my head at him, curious.
"Oh, yeah?" I replied. "Like who?”
"You’ll see," he remarked as he buzzed them up. I stood there, waiting patiently, a little excited prickle at the back of my neck. Could it be …? No, no way. It couldn’t be …
But then, the door opened. And there they were.
My family.
"Oh, my God!” I exclaimed, nearly dropping the glasses I was holding in my hurry to get over to them. My mother came through the door first, wrapping her arms around me tight, squeezing me in close like she never wanted to let me go.
"Baby girl," she breathed against my ear, and I inhaled the scent of her—the memories of my childhood came flooding back, everything I had been through, every joyous experience filling my system all at once.
And, behind her were my siblings, all three of them. Allen was pushing my father in a wheelchair, coming out of the elevator at the far end of the hallway. I dashed towards them, practically leaping into my dad’s lap, kissing his cheek and holding him close.
"Is this real?” I asked as I stood upright, looking at Nora and Frankie in the doorway. Frankie’s face was almost obscured by a huge bunch of flowers. God, she was so tall now she towered over me! Paulo, still standing in the apartment, nodded.
"It’s real," he assured me, reaching out for my hand. I went back to him, leaning against him heavily, glad I had him for support as the whole world reeled around me.
"Come on in," I told my family. "Champagne?"
"I think the occasion calls for it," Nora agreed, flashing me that cheeky smile of hers I hadn’t seen in way too long. I couldn’t resist, going in to give her a hug, and she wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.
"I missed you, sis," she whispered to me.
"I missed you too," I told her, biting back the emotion before it got the better of me. "More than you could ever know."
I led them inside the apartment, and the chaos of their voices overlapping filled the space. I loved hearing them altogether like this; I could hardly believe it was happening. We poured out the champagne till the bottle was empty, passing glasses around the room, Allen carefully positioning my father’s wheelchair so he would fit between the couches. My dad looked a lot more frail than I remembered him, but there was still that giant smile on his face, the warmth that had radiated off him as long as I could recall.
"I can’t believe you’re all here," I blurted out once we were all sat down around the coffee table. "What … How did this happen?"
"You have Paulo to thank for that," my mother replied, nodding to the man who was sitting proudly at my side. I turned to him, my eyes wide.
"You organized this?"
"He reached out to me a few months ago," Mom explained, reaching over to give my knee a squeeze—it was like she couldn’t keep her hands off of me, needing to make sure I was really there, that I wasn’t going anywhere.
"And he let us know some of what you’d been through," she continued. "And that you were worried about supporting us, financially, after you … left that place."
The word hung in the air for a moment, and I could tell how much it pained her to even think about it.
