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“One year, I didn’t tell my parents what I really wanted for Christmas. When I didn’t get the gift, I wrote a letter to Santa, and I called him a fat bastard.”
Jaxon laughs, smiling wide. “That’s gold.”
“I always wondered about my parent’s reaction to that.”
“Probably the same as ours.”
Laughing, I lie back, gazing up at the ceiling in deep thought. My parents were the most loving, caring, and compassionate people in the world. They always put me first and made sure I had the best life possible. I haven’t talked about them in years.
My smile fades.
“Sasha?” Jaxon asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“No,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”
“Were you thinking about what happened to your parents?” He asks, and my heart sinks. Once I turn to catch his eyes, he immediately frowns. “I’m sorry, Sasha. I forgot.”
“I was eighteen.”
Finally, I’m ready.
“Are you certain?” Jaxon interrupts me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. You shouldn’t push yourself.”
Dropping my gaze to my lap, I can feel the tension in the room. A part of me is pleading to myself to not dare speak a word about what had happened to my parents. Then again, there’s another part inside of me which is begging to finally let this out.
“We’ve been drinking.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m okay.”
“Wait.” He sits beside me on the floor, and gently holds my hand. “Look at me.”
His eyes pool attentively into mine, and the second I’m about to look away, he lightly cups my face. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to, Jax.”
He nods.
“It was my eighteenth birthday. I went to school just like any other day, and everyone was planning a birthday party for me later that night. My friends were so excited and I obviously was too. I could finally say that I was an adult, you know? Officially eighteen.
“I got home that day and my mom was her usual happy self, and my dad had just got home from work. Everything was going great. My mother took me to the mall and bought me this beautiful red dress. It was gorgeous, and I was so excited to wear it to the party.
“Then, the night came around. I was all dressed and ready.” I hesitate and immediately look away from his intense stare, no longer able to speak.
“You can stop there,” Jaxon urges, tears springing to my eyes. “You don’t need to finish the story, Sasha. There’s no reason for you to relive it tonight.”
“My mom came into my room and told me that they had dinner reservations at my favorite restaurant that we went to every year for my birthday. I was so mad. That one year I wanted it to be different. I just wanted it to be different, since I was finally eighteen, you know?”
“Of course.”
“When I told her about the party my friends planned for me, she got really hurt. I hurt her feelings because going to Olive Garden every birthday of mine was a tradition, probably because I was an only child. We were such a close family. We loved each other so much, we really did.”
There’s silence, and I begin shaking. Jaxon holds my hand tighter.
“I told her for just once I wanted to go to this party with my friends, that I hoped she understood, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was being unreasonable. She didn’t even care about what I wanted to do for my own birthday. Wow, I sound like a terrible person. I swear I wasn’t a bad daughter.”
A tear falls, and he brings me closer to him. “You weren’t a bad daughter, Sasha. You were a teenager and you wanted to be with your friends.”
“I got so mad that I said some really mean things. I was so disappointed and angry that she wanted to go out to dinner so bad. I told her that I hated her. When we got in the car, I gave them both the silent treatment. I wasn’t answering either of them. I remember her turning around and asking me why I was being so mean to her—” I force myself to stop, no longer able to hold back my sobs.
