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“Stop! Just stop!” I erupt with long overdue fury, finally letting it loose. This is not the day for them to rain down their shit on me after what I just went through with Gabe. “I'm so tired of hearing how nothing I do is good enough. What the hell do you expect me to do, Mom? I have been the best I can possibly be for you, and that bit of fucking effort means nothing to neither of you!” I point back and forth between my parents. “Because of you, I don't have a fucking clue about what I want to do with my life because I've been busy trying to please you and make you proud. It's pointless because you don't give a damn. You set me up for failure with your ridiculous expectations.
“I'm sorry I'm not a boy. I'm sorry I don't play football and baseball or any other boy sport. I'm sorry I can't walk in Dad's footsteps. I'm sorry I don't wear suits and care about business. I'm sorry I didn't ask for a sports car. I'm sorry I like shopping. I'm sorry tradition says you'll pay for a wedding. I'm sorry father-daughter dances sound so fucking horrible. I'm sorry pink disgusts you. I'm sorry that you think I'm a quitter because nothing I liked growing up was worth 'wasting' your precious money on or because you insisted I do the impossible. I'm sorry that because of the stupid fact I'm a damn girl that I can't do anything right. I'm sorry my absolute best is shit to you, and that I can't do what's expected of me b
ecause you expect more, which isn't even possible! I'm sorry that all your dreams died with me.
“But you know what? I don't care anymore! Fuck you both.” I take a deep breath, noticing the stunned faces in the room. “Fuck you too, Gabe. Now, if you don't mind, all of you can go to hell and get out of my apartment!”
The pure rage runs through me, and my hands are aching to do something. I walk into my kitchen, ignoring them and hoping they'll just leave. My hip bumps into the counter, and I scream in frustration, yanking open the dishwasher. Yes. Breaking something will release some of this from me. I grab a glass plate, hold it over my head, and then throw it down on the floor. A frantic energy buzzes through me with a touch of excitement. God, that felt good.
I pull out the top rack, picking up the first glass thing I find. A bowl. It crashes to the floor, shattering to pieces, and mixing with the remnants of the plate. Faintly, I hear my mother shouting for me to stop, but the sound of her voice fuels me to do it again, but with a cup this time. When I lift a bowl above my head, hands grab my wrists.
“Stop it, Ryan,” Gabe says quietly from behind me.
“Let me go!” I try to twist my wrists free, but his grip is too strong.
“No. You need to stop.”
His soft tone breaks through my anger. “Fine,” I mutter. He takes the bowl from my hands. “Everyone needs to leave. Now.” I turn to face my parents, but I'm speaking to Gabe as well. “Either y'all leave or I will.”
My parents actually look terrified by my outburst and fit of rage. They nod solemnly before walking out, leaving only Gabe for me to get rid of.
“Ryan,” he starts.
“No, Gabe,” I interrupt quietly, facing him completely now. With as much strength as I can muster, I continue, “I've been worrying about letting you down and not meeting your and your family's expectations. Not once did I consider that our roles would reverse, and you would be the one to let me down.” His mouth parts to speak, but nothing comes and I finish, “Just go home. I don't want to deal with anything yet, and I need to clean up. Please go.”
He closes this mouth, nods reluctantly, and then he's gone too. Part of me wishes Gabe wouldn't listen to me. That he would make me listen, but I can't blame him for leaving when I asked him to go. It wouldn't be right to expect two opposite behaviors from him, and in the end, I'm more grateful that he is giving me space than staying. I stare at what remains of my dishes. This day has gone to hell in a hand basket, that's for sure. I leave the mess of broken glass on my floor. Once I lock my door, I go to my room, texting Viv that I've gotten terribly sick and can't go shopping tomorrow. She's with her family, so I know it may be awhile before she responds. I hook my phone up to the speakers, turning on my rock playlist, and flop onto my bed.
I can't believe that I completely broke down, not only in front of my parents, but Gabe too. I don't know why I care though. He doesn't. He couldn't even defend me to his mother. This has to be the worst day of my life. While I lay, listening to “Crazy Bitch”, I realize that staying here probably isn't a good idea. Viv has a key, my parents have a key, and Gabe knows that he can find me here if he decides to come back to talk to me.
Getting up, I start packing some bags. I don't want to see anyone and the only way to make sure that happens is to go stay somewhere else. So I shove some clothes and other necessities into a bag, grab my other things, and leave for a hotel downtown. It takes a couple stops to find a hotel with a vacancy, but I do. A few calls from Gabe and texts from Viv filter in, so I turn off my phone.
The relentless thoughts continue to plague my mind. I stuff my face with desserts from room service while I think. I probably ruined things with Gabe if he was telling the truth about how he would have defended me to his mother. The fiasco with my parents doesn't even bother me. Not in comparison to things with Gabe. My parents aren't ever going anywhere. There is no guarantee that I'm going to have Gabe in my life at all, much less for forever. Not that I can say I want that. Picking a major freaked me out. I doubt I could say I knew for sure that I wanted Gabe.
Once again, I find myself being pulled in a million different directions, it seems. The art museum and that fire painting come to mind. I look up their hours online and find that they are open tomorrow. Maybe that will make all this shit go away for a little while.
Chapter Thirteen
Gabe
I storm back to my parents' house after leaving Ryan's. Leaving her alone was the last thing I wanted to do, but I didn't want to make things worse. If she needs time, I'll give her some. But not for long because now, I do need to swoop in like Prince Charming and fix this mess. When Ryan told me that I let her down, I couldn't find words to defend myself. As soon as the words left her mouth, I realized that was my fear with Ryan, and that it had come true. I let her down and in the worst way possible. I disappointed her. I failed to meet her expectations. A couple seconds of silence and my mother made me hurt her. She expected more, and that's exactly what she deserved.
Right now, I need to find out what my mother was thinking when she opened her mouth. If she was thinking at all. Things appear to have continued relatively normally. The guys are in the living room, watching TV, and the girls are cleaning up in the kitchen. The door slams loudly behind me, causing them to look at me.
“Gabriel,” my father starts with a small warning in his voice.
I ignore him and burst through the swinging door to the kitchen. Everything halts as the women turn to look at me. My eyes find my mother's. I wasn't lying when I told Ryan that I was shocked by what she said. She's never been so hard on a girl before. That wasn't how the day was supposed to go. Not in the least. I have to find out what in the world happened.
“I would like to speak with you,” I say calmly.
Mom nods, and wordlessly the others leave the room. “Gabriel,” she begins.
“What was that?” I harshly ask, my hands clenching in fists at my sides. Now that I'm back here, I'm pissed.
“I'm sorry-”
“You should be! Ryan has been worrying ever since I asked her to come here. I told her she had nothing to worry about, and you go and say that she's a rich brat wanting me to take care of her?! Where did you even get that impression, Mom? When have I ever said something like that about Ryan?”
She wrings her hands together. I've never spoken to my mother this way, but then again, I've never had a reason. “You didn't. I was out of line, I know, but I was worried about you overlooking signs that show she's no good for you. You've done it before, and she's young-”
