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He meets my gaze, calmly. “There’s no need to shout, Elise.”
No need to shout?
No need to shout!?
“I have every reason to shout!” I don’t lower my voice, feeling a lifetime of oppression lift off my shoulders. “You couldn’t even be bothered to put me through college! I had to do graveyard shifts at diners throughout. I could barely afford two meals a day! I had a tiny cramped apartment and there were days I would spend stressing over the fact that I might not be able to make even that measly rent. And you’re telling me not to shout?!” My breathing is fast, anger a sharp emotion. “You and Mother have never been there for me! Now, because you suddenly see my daughter, you decide to develop parental feelings and start shoving your business at me. Well, guess what?”
There’s guilt on my father’s face and pain on my mother’s, who’s now standing beside my father.
I continue my rant, “I don’t want your company, and I don’t want your money. If I have to be a receptionist for my whole life and support my daughter, I’ll do so, gladly. I’ll put aside a college fund for her, like you never did. Sophie will never go hungry or have to clutch on to a pepper spray when she comes home at four in the morning from her job, praying that she doesn’t get attacked or raped. She won’t have to fear to ask me for money if she feels she might not make rent. She won’t sit in her apartment, trying to count each penny to see if she has enough for one meal that day or not!”
They are both growing more shocked as they listen.
I’m choking at this point, my face flushed, and at the same time wet with tears, I’ve hidden all these years behind a smile. Things I have never given a voice to, came tumbling out over this small gesture of kindness that my father offered me. I feel the clumsy bandages I’ve put over
the cracks in my soul, come apart, large gaping cracks that no one can fix.
My mother is crying quietly, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs, and my father is shaking, his face white.
I’m trembling myself and suddenly, I don’t know where to go.
I need to go hide somewhere until I’m calm and myself, until I’m the smiling Elise who has no problems, who’s always expected to be brave and strong, who only ever breaks down at night in the darkness of her home where no one can see her.
I’m breaking apart at the seams and I’m frightened.
My eyes dart around wildly and then a pair of arms enfold around me, the only pair of arms that can keep me from scattering in the wind like petals.
Lucas presses me tightly into his body, his arms like strong steel bands around my waist, his chest against my back like an indomitable wall. “Elise,” he breathes my name.
I focus on it, my working hand coming to rest on his arm, my nails digging in for purchase. “Take me away from here,” I beg him, my voice cracking.
I’m refusing to meet my parent’s eyes, my gaze fixed on Lucas’s arms.
“Come with me.” He releases me while he immediately puts an arm around my shoulder and takes me out of the room.
In my growing despair, I don’t know where he came from or where he’s taking me but I can feel myself hyperventilating.
In the hallway, Lucas pushes me down into a chair and crouches at my feet.
His voice is firm as he instructs, “Breathe.”
“I’m trying.”
I’m also trying not to cry.
I don’t want to cry.
This isn’t a crying matter.
I just yelled at my parents. All my dad did was offer me a job and I blew my top off.
Am I going crazy?
“You want to come to my place?” He asks in an uncharacteristically gentle tone which is a far cry from his usual goading one.
I nod, trying to calm myself down.
He says, “I’ll go get—”
