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He sighs, as if my question irritates him, so my mother cuts in, "Your father got a new job. It all happened so quickly; we’re moving to L.A. next week."
It’s a lot to wrap my head around, but the moment she explains it to me, I know something doesn’t add up. "B…but I’m going to Nana and Pops’ next week, remember? We can’t move."My head starts spinning, and I can hear my heart beat pounding loudly in my ears. No, no, this isn’t happening. I can’t leave. I won’t have anyone. I won’t have Nate. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes and panic gripping my chest.
"Don’t be silly," my father scolds. "You won’t be going anywhere."
"But…" I try to argue.
"End of discussion. We’re moving."
No.I want to scream and beg. We can’t go away. I have to see Nathaniel, like usual. I promised him we would meet. My whole body is shaking, and my fists are clenched. My entire world feels like it’s falling apart.
I have to go to my grandparents. I need Nathaniel. "I’m not moving anywhere. You can go. I’m staying with Nana." I stand straighter, crossing my arms over my chest as if it will somehow hold my breaking heart inside. But I still can’t stop the tears from pooling up in my eyes, threatening to flow.
"No," my parents say in unison. Of course, they always do this. They never care about my feelings or what is important to me. All they care about is themselves. Unable to hold back any longer, I cry big, fat, ugly tears. All it does, though, is annoy my father further, so he sends me back to my room.
And that's where I spend my next few days, all alone and in pain. At first, I screamed and cried until my eyes and throat were sore. Then, I hid away in my room, refusing to talk to them or even eat, not that they cared. But finally, I succeeded. After almost a week of begging, they finally gave in.
***
I’m lying on my bed, desperately scribbling in my diary, when my bedroom door creaks open. Turning my head, I see my mother at the door. "Come on, Izzy, you've got to eat something," she says, looking down at the untouched lunch still sitting on my vanity table, exactly where she left it hours ago.
"I don't want to. What's the point?" I say, refusing to even look at her.
"The point is, you'll get sick. You need food to survive," my mother says, walking over and taking a seat on my bed.
"Your father and I have been talking ..." she begins, and I feel a glimmer of hope.
"You're letting me move in with Nana and Pops?" I gasped, feeling hopeful.
"Well, no, you know how we feel about that. You're too young to move away. I want us all together to build this new life with one another. ." She sighs, reaching out and stroking my hair.
"But it's where I want to be, Mom; I've told you. I don't want to move away. I won't know anyone there. I want to live with Nana and Pops. I have fun there. Nana and Pops play games with me, take me out for ice cream, and bake cakes with me,'' I admit as my anger and frustration build.
"You never do anything with me. Dad's always too busy working, and you just don't care," I snap, my anger right at the surface, causing my whole body to shake.
A look of shock crosses my mother's face briefly before it's replaced by her signature calm and composed smile.
"Of course we care," my mother says quietly.
"Then why don't you act like it? Nana and Pops have no problem showing it, so why do you?" I shout back, no longer caring if my outburst fractures the already frail relationship I share with my mother.
"It's not that simple, Isabella. Not everyone finds it as easy as your grandparents do."
"Finds what simple? Being a normal human and loving their family?"
I watch a single tear run down my mother's cheek before she wipes it away so quickly. You'd never have known it was there. Instantly, the guilt takes over. My mother has never cried in front of me, and I'm the one who caused it.
"I'm sorry, Mom, but please let me move in with Nana and Pops. I'll be happier there. I can still visit you and Dad on school holidays," I beg again.
"How would that look to our investors if our only daughter stays behind when we move away? It wouldn't give a good impression to the investors, now, would it?" my father snaps from the doorway.Why does he have to get involved? It’s not like he actually wants me there, anyway. He just wants a puppet who will look good to his stupid clients.
"I’ll be down in a second. Why don't you brew some coffee? Then I can show you a house I've seen," my mother says to my father before he turns and walks away.
"Izzy, enough with this. The answer is no. You're moving with us, and that's final. That said, I have persuaded your father to let you visit your grandparents one last time for the weekend while we pack up the last of the boxes."
Instantly, I throw my arms around my mother. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I feel her tense up slightly before giving me a small hug back.
"Now, enough of this moping and crying. Finish packing your boxes, please, and I'll drive you down there tomorrow."
