“NO!” I sat up and scrambled to my feet, grabbing at my bag as I went. Cheryl walked over to me, placed a hand on my shoulder and gripped it.
“It can be very overwhelming at first, but it’s worth it.”
I looked around the room. Everyone was sitting up now, looking at me with concern in their eyes, especially Samirah.
I wiped my tears away. “This is stupid,” I said. “I can’t do this. It’s . . . it’s . . .” I shook my head and could hear I was crying again. Well, some version of me was crying, a version I felt very disconnected from. A version that had been residing deep inside that had been neatly tucked away and pushed down, until now. God, I wanted my phone so badly. That soothing feeling of my fingers rushing over my screen, distracting me. Logging, and recording, and tracking things until I felt all this disorder melt away. Control. I wanted control again.
“This is . . . I shouldn’t have come, it’s . . .” I started to leave.
“Where are you going?” Samirah called after me.
“Away,” I said.
“Let me drive you,” I heard her call after me.
“No! I want to walk!” I shouted over my shoulder as I rushed through the house and ran outside. I raced back up the dirt driveway as fast as I could, Cujo hot on my heels. Reaching the gate I pulled it open, not bothering to close it behind me this time. I ran up the road and as soon as I was far enough away from the house, I stopped and bloody wept.
I wept loudly and wildly and it was ugly. I felt so emotional. All those memories of my early years that I’d worked so hard to push away, were back. I was the “fat” lonely girl in my room all over again, listening to the same songs on repeat. The terrified girl in the shed that no one had even noticed had gone missing. I leaned against the big jacaranda tree on the side of the road and held my face in my hands. I’d tried so hard to escape all of that and be someone else, but it had all failed, hadn’t it? I’d lost my boyfriend to an influencer who had more followers than me. I’d lost all my friends and likes and status and brand endorsements and everything in my life that meant anything and now I was just Frankie. A nobody. A girl with an ugly dog in the middle of the desert on a dirt road to nowhere.
Suddenly, I felt something. I looked down to see that Cujo had put his massive head against my leg and was cuddling into me. For some reason this made me chuckle ever so slightly. I lowered my hand to his head—God, his fur was as prickly as wire—but I stroked it and his massive tongue came out of his mouth and gave my hand the wettest, longest lick.
“Ew,” I giggled and wiped it on my shirt. I slung my bag off my shoulder and reached into it for the face wipes; the salty tears were making my skin sting. But as I opened it, the white envelope tumbled to the floor. I stared down at it. I’d forgotten all about the envelope . . .
CHAPTER 19
Six days ago
The man with the moustache pushed the big, white envelope across the table towards me. It seemed to move in slow motion, as if there was something very heavy inside. I guess in some ways there was. I reached out and took it in my hands. It felt heavy. Not physically, but heavy with something else. I stared at it. Trying to look through it. Trying to see inside but couldn’t.
“Well, aren’t you going to look at it?” the moustached lawyer asked.
“Aren’t I going to . . .?” I continued to stare. For some strange reason, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to open it. But what did occur to me was that this was the closest I’d been to my father in years. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen his face. But now, I was holding something that he’d touched. Something that was smeared with his DNA. His handwriting on the front looked messy and was almost illegible.
Frances.
No one called me that anymore. Except my sister. I didn’t like that name. I’d shed it and every connotation that went with it years ago. Frances wasn’t who I wanted to be.
“Open it,” the lawyer urged.
I finally tore my eyes away from the pristine envelope and looked at the man with the bushy white handlebar moustache that made him look like Santa had taken up biking.
I shook my head. “No,” I said, and slipped it into my black handbag.
He nodded at me, as if he understood what I was feeling. He probably did. He probably saw this sort of thing all the time. Just as I was closing my handbag, my phone rang. It was Kyle. A stab of panic hit me in the ribs. I needed to leave or else I was going to run late. Kyle had stressed to me how important this was for him . . .us.
“I have to go,” I said, standing up.
“You can’t go yet, there are a lot of papers that need signing, and I need to get a copy of your ID too, please.”
“Uh . . . okay.” I sat back down and pulled my ID out. He took it and smiled.
“I’ll get the papers.” When he exited the room, I pulled my phone out and called Kyle.
“Babe, where are you?” He didn’t even bother to say hello. He sounded frantic.
“Still at the lawyer’s,” I said.
Huge sigh. “Are you going to be late?”
