Page 91 of Waiting for You

"You didn't do anything wrong," she sobbed. "Violet, you didn't do anything wrong. You're a beautiful, brilliant girl. You always have been."

"I don't believe that," Violet replied, her voice quiet. "And I stopped needing to believe it a long time ago. I stopped hunting for your approval years ago. I don't need it now. But I wanted you to know why."

She turned to me. "I think we can leave now."

I started to push my chair back. "And when we walk out that door," I announced, looking between them, "you need to understand that we're cutting you off. We're done."

"Please." My mother reached across the table. My father grabbed my forearm. "Please. Don't walk away." My mother's voice broke apart on the plea. "We can't lose both of our children. We've been terrible parents. We know that now. We want to do better. We just need you to give us one more chance."

I looked at Violet. She stared at our crying parents, then looked back at me.

"I want to think about it," she decided slowly. "I want to forgive you. I want to take all of this and put it somewhere that isn't at the front of my mind every time I see your faces. I want that peace so much." She locked eyes with them. "But I need to see the change. I won't just hear it. Show me you've changed, and I'll still be here."

My parents agreed instantly, both speaking at once, nodding and offering promises. Their hands reached across the table before Violet had even finished. I watched the frantic display and understood: this was what it looked like when people finally realized they had nothing left to lose.

Violet had cut them off, they'd shifted their focus to me, and now I was gone too. Whether the desperation was love or just the math of isolation, I didn't know yet. Time would tell. If they changed, they changed. If they didn't, I'd be right there to protect her.

We sat back down.

My mother smoothed the lapels of her jacket. My father refilled his water glass. In the heavy silence before the small talk resumed, my mother looked over at me.

"How is Eliza?" she asked carefully. "Have you proposed yet?"

"We broke up," I said.

Her eyes went wide. "What? Xavier, you promised me you weren't going to⁠—"

"It didn't work out," I cut her off.

She opened her mouth. The lecture was already forming, the inventory of Eliza's qualities, the list of everything she was about to tell me I'd lost, and then she stopped herself. Her jaw snapped shut. She looked down at her water glass instead.

That restraint was new.

"I'm with someone else," I added. "Someone I love. I couldn't keep lying to myself."

"Who?" my father asked.

"Sloane Ty," I answered. "She's Violet's best friend. They were freshman roommates in college."

My mother's brows lifted a fraction. Her mouth opened and closed.

"The Asian girl," she finally murmured. "I remember her."

"Yes," I confirmed. "We're together now."

My parents exchanged a long look. My father turned his gaze back to me.

"As long as you're happy," he offered carefully. "We're happy for you."

"Sure you are," I replied, dry.

My mother's mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn't offer a rebuttal, which was, in its own twisted way, progress.

We survived the rest of the meal. Nobody offered another sentence with any real heft behind it, which was probably the most any of us could safely manage. When the check arrived, my father paid it without a word, my mother suggested we should do this again, and I offered a noncommittal we'll see. Violet echoed the same.

I dropped Violet off at her building. She sat quietly in the passenger seat a moment before opening the door.

"Are you okay?" I asked.