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14
Gisele
Things with Jaredbecame less tense from then on. We’d bait and banter. Our friendly banters sometimes could get messy, but we’d end up laughing our butts off. I admitted it was nice having him in my life, though not in the way I had once imagined.Still,I appreciated him all the same. When the sun set and the night set in, he’d continuously sleep holding me close, never releasing me until it was time to head to work. He never explained why he did it, so I chose to ignore it as well. We were adjusting, and I supposed, I was simply relieved that the arguments had ceased for the time being. Anything to keep the peace, I was all for it. So, when he came home late or if I spotted a lipstick stain on the back of his neck, I dared not voice out anything because I didn’t want to rock the calm environment we currently shared. In some ways, my silence was a huge sign I was slowly letting himgo,too.
Every night, once my father finished discussing work with Jared, we’d spend about an hour before he rested. A couple of those nights were spent stargazing on the balcony, but once it got too cold for him, we stayed indoors. After the past nights I spent with him, I simply couldn’t skip these cherished moments, so I figured we’d pursue something that we both enjoyed but without needing him to participate.The Fountainby Darren Aronofsky was one of our favored books. I read to him like I used to when I suffered from severe stuttering. My father was a devout believer of practice makes perfect, so I sat across his work table every night without fail. The reading sessions went on for an hour. It took a whole year until my speech disorder slowlydisappeared.
“You brought so much love and happiness to our lives, my little one. Never forget me or your mom. Remember the great memories we shared. I love you, my darling girl,” he softly murmured before closinghiseyes.
“I love you,too,Papa.”
He couldn’t stay awake past chapter two before exhaustion finally set in. My heart ached each time my eyes grazed his pallor. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I could vividly picture him so full of life, bouncing off ideas to the next person, lecturing me about the importance of purpose and finding’s one’s passion. Life worked in such mysterious ways; one couldn’t fully know what tomorrow might bring. And even though his time was numbered, my father lived a brilliant life, the way heenvisionedit.
Little did I realize it was the last time I’d get to spend time with him. My father peacefully passed away in his sleep. He died with a smile on his face, as if relieved to be free from carrying the burden on hisshoulders.
Seeing the peaceful smile on his pale face was like a balm for the heavy pang in my heart. Upon learning the news, Blair and Vivienne immediately came home to be with me. We rallied once one of us needed love and protection. Without their silent strength keeping me together, I wasn’t sure how I’d manage going through the private memorial andburial.
Jared deflected the attention from the grieving only daughter to the new head of the company. He also succeeded in limiting the media coverage by keeping my pictures from being plastered anywhere. He simply took charge without needing to be told, and for that, I was forevergrateful.
Jared and Thomas worked together to arrange everything without troubling me. My input would’ve been appreciated, but I couldn’t for the life of me muster enough brain energy to figure out what food we should serve theguests.
Most of my father’s colleagues and the particular ones he mentored shed a lot of tears. Jared, who seemed composed all the time, had moisture in his eyes. Though he hadn’t openly spoken about it, I knew Peter Weber was the closest thing he had to a father, too. But unlike me, he was functional and could efficiently mobilize by takingcharge.
Wyatt Rinaldi was also in attendance, but it was so hectic I barely had the chance to properly speak to him. Besides, with Blair around, I hardly wanted to tempt attention drawn towards her. His sister was perceptive, and she was too sharp not to pick on the tension I hadwithhim.
A childhood friend unexpectedly showed up. Dexter Berg graduated from Harvard and was home to jumpstart his own law firm. Seeing a friendly face amongst the sea of strangers was a welcome sight. However, after an hour’s worth of polite sentiments, sympathies and condolences, I quietly retreated to my bedroom, selfishly leaving Jared, Thomas, Vivienne, and Blair to take care of theguests.
I couldn’t stand there any longer, enduring their pitiful stares or fake notions of friendship. Some even had the audacity to wonder how much of my father’s estate I’d be inheriting. Why should I withstand their presence when I could barely stand my owncompany?
It was the second night after the funeral. School was in five days, and for the life of me, my addled brain was too unfocused to even fathom going to Stanford. I was majoring in Computer Science, minoring in Psychology, but at the rate my brain fog was progressing, I doubted anything could register and absorb in my head. Heck, it was so beyond disconcerting that even reading a nutrition label felt as though I was deciphering Morris code. The idea of overloading my mind with database systems, algorithms, and software engineering would unquestionably inflate my seemingly incapacitated brain. Aggravating, it ensures setting off all the stressors inmybody.
Then again, as much as I dreaded the thought of school, I knew my father would be highly disappointed if I used his death as an excuse to miss classes. He rarely demanded things from me, but missing school mainly triggered his wrath. My father never raised his voice even when furious. Instead of yelling, Peter Weber would properly use a chilling voice—one encumbered with silent threats—successfully implementing it with a cutting glare, shriveling any happiness in me. I comprehended since first grade that pretending to have a fever wouldn’t cut it with my parents. Unless I was close to dying, missing a school day was out of the question. According to my father, it was as good as betrayal could get for him. Rather unconventional, but he disciplined me not to surrender when the going gottough.
Five days to train my mind. Surely, the timeframe was enough to accomplish such a task,right?
“You really need to start eating, Gisele.” Jared’s concerned tone broke me out ofreverie.
I blinked a fewtimes.
“I’m trying,” I said without glancing at him. The formal dining area felt too barren of warmth. He rigidly sat across from me. My father’s empty chair left a gaping hole in our little dynamic. It sucked the energy out from between us. And I knew we simply couldn’t go on like this. Something had to be done. Tomorrow, I’d like to suggest to Thomas that I’d truly appreciate it if we could dine in the kitchen, instead. He’d be displeased; he loathed impropriety, but what the hell? It was either that or I’d request a tray in my room. The latter did not appeal to meatall.
“You had a bite off a sandwich all day. That’s hardly considered a meal,” he grumbled. Nothing ever escaped his hawkish attention todetail.
“You can’t force me to eat.” Eyeing him waspishly, I was about to blow my gasket when his worried face truly dawned on me. Did he believe I intended to kill myself throughstarvation?
I’m in mourning, notsuicidal!
For the first time in days, cerulean blues sparked fire again. “I won’t have to. I’ll bring in the big guns to forcefeedyou.”
Big guns? Yeah, nice try, Aussie man. “Don’t beabsurd.”
“Try me.” His menacing eyes didn’t waver from my sullen appearance. “I’ll warn Blair and Vivienne if you don’t finish half of yourdinner.”
Big guns, ha. He was beginning to grasp the simple makings of my life. He knew my friends meant the world to me. And he understood after spending time with them that they could be downright insufferable when given leverage. They’d been pestering me, and Jared’s call for emergency assistance would only fuel their over-the-topsmothering.
Halfheartedly, I began to lift the fork, pierced a piece of lamb chop, and brought it to my mouth. The thought of food made me want to hurl, but if I didn’t get my act together, Jared surely would exhibit how he could easily make my life hell. Not that I didn’t love my friends, but I could do with some solitude and much neededsilence.
“Good girl.” His pleased tone merely grated on mynerves.
