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“Do you honestly think she’ll pack her bags, leave her studies, and follow you to a country she’s never set foot in and where she doesn’t know a soul? If you think my daughter will put on a white dress for you and say yes, you’re the one who doesn’t have a clue.”
“I’m not worried about Sabella. She’ll do as I say. Just make sure her things are packed. Or don’t. I don’t really care. She can buy new clothes here. Whether you attend the wedding is up to you. Out of courtesy for Sabella, I’ll save places for your family at the bride and groom’s table. You decide if you fill those seats.”
With that, I end the call.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sabella
Life is hectic when Pirate and I move in with Ryan and Celeste and my university course starts in February. I embrace the strenuous pace with open arms. Being busy helps me to forget about birthdays and the unexpected gifts—or rather, curses—they bring.
As I need my own wheels to commute from Bloubergstrand to the campus, Dad buys me an entry-level Mini Cooper. The car is still expensive, but it’s a far cry from a Ferrari.
Colin and I spend our free time together studying in the library. The separation from May left him heartbroken. We’re not as close as we used to be, but he’s still my only friend.
Moments of leisure are scarce at the beginning. I have classes back-to-back from eight in the morning to six in the evening. On weekends, I either have lunch at Colin’s apartment or he dines at Ryan and Celeste’s place. On the odd occasion, we squeeze in a swim at one of the many beautiful beaches. If Celeste is busy, we take Brad to the rock pool. I adore spending time with my nephew. The older he gets, the more he looks like Ryan.
Celeste took up her old job as a volunteer at the Green Earth Association, which means I get to babysit in the evenings when she’s running late. Ryan always fetches her from the office at night. He prohibited her from driving alone after dark. Living with them revealed my brother’s overprotective streak, another side of his character I didn’t know existed.
Mattie falls pregnant in April. We all go to visit them in Stellenbosch for the weekend. Mom has been staying over with them frequently, at least a couple of weeks every month, which makes me wonder about her and Dad’s relationship. Dad has always been busy with work, often traveling to visit his clients across the country, but these days, Mom is absent from home more frequently. If she’s not at Mattie’s, she’s at a spa retreat. And what about Jared? Doesn’t he mind that his mother-in-law is living more with them than at her own house? When I tell Mattie about my concern, Mattie says Mom is only enjoying her newfound freedom now that there are no more kids in the house.
May flies past. My skin has long since healed where Angelo left his stamp. The seal is drawn in embossed lines that, once the angry red has faded, are lighter than my olive tone. The hair Angelo had shaved grew back, covering the mark. I don’t have time for a part-time job in the week, but when my course hours decrease in my second year, I can take up waitressing to save money for plastic surgery, which isn’t covered by my medical aid. A skin graft costs an arm and a leg.
I’ll have to undergo the procedure on the sly, maybe during a winter holiday when I can make up an excuse of going away for a couple of weeks. I can always say I’m joining a class expedition. Senior students sometimes join film crews or researchers on boats, offering their services for free in exchange for experience. Job opportunities in my field are few and far between, and every little extra you can add to your CV helps.
I become a frequent participator in the campus social life. I even join a fundraiser to save endangered sharks. My dad’s company donates a substantial amount, which earns me the title of secretary of our association. When I’m not submitting funding proposals to high-end companies in the city, I’m delivering weekend lectures at tourist information centers about conservation and false shark perceptions.
I’m no stranger to the on and off-campus parties either. I attend every concert and beer festival. I’d be lying if I say I enjoy the smell of stale lager in sweaty tents, the tabletops that are covered in sticky alcohol, the stench of vomit in the trashcans, and trudging through a muddy sports field through a mass of drunken people. The only reason I’m doing it is to prove to my family and Colin that I’m not anti-social. That I’m not a prisoner of Angelo’s sinister promises. That he doesn’t have an invisible hold on me.
