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My father sits down. “You’re welcome. Just the other day, I was telling the guys in my foursome at the golf course about how much I do for my family. I said that you had all found me and thanked me within the last few days. Doug called bullshit, and I had to set him straight.”
He shovels food in his mouth, talking anyway. “I said Doug, just because no one is thankful for what you provide doesn’t mean that the same can be said about yours truly. Maybe my family is just better at showing gratitude than yours is.”
I school my expression into one of interest. But underneath, my guts churn. This is exactly why I don’t come home if I can help it. It always plays out the same way.
My father makes crude remarks. My sister eggs him on. And my mother supports it in the most non-confrontational way she can.
I do the best I can for the rest of the visit. That means I nod when I’m supposed to agree and only fill in details when asked. I revert to the person I was years ago, back when I still lived here full time.
I try to blend in with the wallpaper and not draw attention to myself. My father and Hazel shoot spiteful comments at me. I try to dodge them and not let the barbs hurt me.
That’s the only way I know of to get by in this house.
At last, as the sun starts to set, I get ready to leave. My mom hugs me hard. Hazel makes some snide comment about how I’m putting on weight.
It just makes me really, really tired.
At last, I go over to hug my father. It’s important that he see me as a doting daughter; anything more than that is considered rebellious.
“Bye, Daddy,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.
He grabs me by the shoulders, staring down into my face. “You had better ace your audition with New York Ballet, Kaia. I haven’t supported you for this long just to have you falter when the goal is within reach.”
My eyes widen. I blink convulsively. “Yes, sir.”
“I mean it,” he says, giving me a sharp shake. “I won’t have you taking some position with some far away place. You have trained for too long and cost me too much money to just blow it. You had better be the best damn ballerina they have ever seen. Or else.”
The menace in his tone gets heavier the longer his sentence goes on. My eyes fill with tears, but I won’t let them fall.
“Yes, sir.”
He waves me off like I’ve displeased him. I grab my backpack and I’m out of the front door like a rocket. I’m almost out of the yard before I hear my mother’s voice.
“Kaia!”
I slow, then turn back. She stands in the doorway, wringing her hands. There seems to be something that she wants to say.
There always seems to be something left unsaid with her. Several seconds pass as she tries to make up her mind about what she wants to say.
“Mom, I have to catch my bus,” I say.
Her lips twist with a hint of bitterness. She looks down and shrugs. “Good luck on your audition, sweetheart.”
I suck in a deep breath, my eyes filling with tears again. “Thanks, Mom.”
She waves, looking so desolate and sad. I’ve long since learned that I can’t help her; she loves this life that has her ensnared, keeps her shackled to this godawful house.
Turning, I start walking toward the bus stop, my tears just now beginning to fall.
Chapter41
Calum
“Sir, please. Be still so I can work on this knot.” Hugo, my extremely patient physical therapist, pushes his hands flat against my bare back.
I open my eyes a slit. I can see myself reflected back in the mirrors that line that walls of my private gym. Lying on my stomach, I have a pained expression.
“Go on,” I grunt, closing my eyes once more.
