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Dad never took me seriously, ever. Not once. And even when I did things that were supposed to be for me, they weren’t. It always played into some part of his plan. Like going to UCLA.
He might not have wanted me to study art, but he wanted me to attend a good university. Art was the driving force that made me pick myself up after the accident and get my studies back on track so I could graduate with everyone else in my year.
"Art is not a hobby to me, Dad, and no, I'm not going to meet this person and consider him as a future husband." I firmly shake my head.
He frowns. "Serenity, this isn't up for discussion.”
“How can you say that? Since when do we arrange marriages?”
“There’s a first time for everything. As your father, it’s my duty to make sure you find a good husband. Someone prestigious of good standing.”
He means rich, and graduated from an Ivy League university the like Lawrence, Natalie’s fiancé.
“This is my life. I can’t just marry a man I don’t know.” The hurried tone echoes my restless mind and the panic rising in me like a volcano waiting to erupt.
“That is why you’ll get to know him first. Matthew comes from a respectable family, and he looks like he's going to go places in the legal world. That's the kind of man I want you to be with. I've already spoken with his parents and him, and it would be a profitable union for both families."
"But—"
"Serenity, you will do this."
I've only ever seen him give me that look once before. It was when he was about to marry my evil stepmother, and I hated it. I was all but ordered to welcome her into our home after I caught her burning my mother’s clothes because she didn’t want Dad to fork up the money for storage. As if that would have broken their bank account. By the time Mom died, Dad was already making serious money. He would have needed to for Melissa and her stuffy-nosed daughter to even look in his direction.
The harshness in Dad’s eyes is the same as it was that day. I was fifteen at the time, but I understood it to mean he wouldn't hesitate to punish me in ways I would hate if I crossed him.
“We went through hell last year with your accident and Avery’s death,” he reminds me. As if I needed the reminder. Hearing him say it breaks my heart a little more. “The entire family felt the blow of such a horrific disaster.”
“I know.” My voice is barely there.
I don’t know why, but I always feel like he blames me for Avery’s death. The renewed thought grips me like it always does, and the tears that are never far away threaten to pour out of me like a river breaking through a damn.
People say time will heal you, but time has only seemed to make me feel worse. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe it was just last year that she was taken from us. Taken from me.
We’d just gotten home for the summer break. Her sister was getting married, and there was so much to look forward to.
We met up on the Saturday of that week to go shopping, but I wanted to drop by the dry cleaners first. We were on our way there when a drunk driver crashed right into us.
His car smashed into me, crushing my legs, but the impact sent Avery into the windshield because she wasn't wearing her seatbelt. Crushed by the car, I watched her die, unable to do anything.
I’ll never forget the moment I watched the light leave her eyes and I just knew that was our last moment together.
I will always blame myself because it was me who was driving. I should have made sure she was wearing her seatbelt. Or better yet, if I hadn’t insisted on going to the stupid dry cleaners, she’d still be alive.
“This year is our recovery from that disaster.” Dad’s voice slices into my thoughts. “Last year was a disaster we all felt.”
And it was one caused by me.
It’s not your fault, Serenity. It’s not your fault.
I allow the mantra to repeat through my mind before I speak again, but it only takes the edge of my pain.
“Last year was definitely a disaster, but I just finished college.” I try to steady the quiver in my voice. “I wanted to have some time to myself before thinking about marriage.” I’m sure I’d think differently if I were head over heels in love with someone, but I’m not.
“Your mother and I were married straight out of college, and we had a good life together."
How dare he mention Mom at this time? And with the way he’s allowed Melissa to desecrate her memory.
I want to say just that, but I hold my tongue. Even I know it would be mean to throw a jab like that. Melissa does what Melissa does, but everyone knows my mother is a sensitive topic for my father. Mom’s final battle with cancer wiped him out. He was never the same again after. That’s why we rarely speak of her.
