“Uh, okay . . .”
“I know you are probably too busy chasing skirts to pay much attention to the business,” Mom says to my dad. “Luckily, I have been. And here’s what I know. For years, your accountant has been signing portions of the business over to me for tax purposes.”
“I’m fully aware of that,” my dad says flatly. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about my business.”
“Oh, but I do. Because just last month, you signed over more.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I now own fifty-four percent.”
“So?”
“So?” I hear papers slap his desk. “I’m divorcing you.”
“You what? We have an agreement.”
“Yes, but it’s just a verbal one. I’m afraid those things don’t stand up in court. I lied to you, darling. I’ve been lying through my teeth and looking the other way until I had control of your company. Just like you’ve lied to me about all the other women. Today is a happy day. Now, I need to get going soon. Going to meet a friend for a celebratory glass of champagne, but here’s the deal. As long as neither you nor Collin contest your divorces then I won’t fire either one of you. If you do, poof, you’re gone. And Ariela, dear, I’ve heard that a lot of mothers and daughters are getting matching tattoos these days. I think we should get one after we get our matching divorces. And if you need anything, money, to talk, please call me.”
“You can’t do that!” my dad says angrily. I hear his chair push across the floor. “I’ll fucking kill you first.”
“Oh, dear. You shouldn’t have said that. The police are waiting outside to escort you out of my house.”
“Your house? This is our house.”
“I’m afraid not. I also found out recently that the house has been in my name for the last seventeen years. You transferred it to me when the market tanked and you were worried you might lose your business. Apparently, you never bothered to transfer it back. You can pack up a few things while the nice policeman watches and then you will be escorted out. Have a nice life.”
I hear a door slam and deep voice say, “Sir, you need to do as she asks.”
Then click.
“Holy shit,” I say to myself as I park.
My phone rings, this time it’s my mom’s cell phone.
“Mom! Holy hell! I can’t believe you just did that. I’m so proud of you!”
“It’s been a long time coming, Ariela. And I’m proud of me too. Where are you?”
“Believe it or not, I’m at Eastbrooke. It’s Homecoming weekend.”
“Are you there with Riley?”
“No. It’s a long story, Mom.”
“Tell me. Tell me everything that’s happened since you left.”
So I do. All of it.
“I think it’s smart that you’re there,” she says. “You need to put the past behind you. It’s been ten years. Even if you feel the same way about him, you’re not the same girl you used to be.”
“I still feel like that girl when I’m with him.”
“Good luck, Ariela. I hope you work it out. And good luck with the event next week. I’m sure it will be amazing. If you’re up for it, I’d like to visit you sometime.”
“I’d like that too, Mom. Thanks for everything.”
I get out of the car and walk down the sidewalk leading to the Student Center.
It’s weird being back here.
As I walk by Hawthorne House, Riley’s dorm, I stop to touch a big red poster board megaphone that’s covered with glitter and has the number twelve on it. Riley’s number.
I remember how proud I was to wear his jersey before the big game. How it hung over my cheerleading skirt. How he said it was so sexy because it looked like it was all I had on.
Part of me wants to stop remembering. The memories both make me happy and make me hurt.
That’s what I came here for, right? To see it all again. To let myself remember all the things I’ve been trying so hard to forget.
I wander down to the lacrosse field, knowing it’s where I would end up.
Riley and I had come here together so many nights.
But one night, I came here alone.
I had just gotten back from a weekend at home.
My dad called me into his study, which was a shrine to the school we’d both worked so hard our whole lives to get me into.
He takes a photo off a shelf and hands it to me. “Do you remember the first time we visited?”
I study the photo. I’m decked out in Tiger gear and waving a pompom. “It was the first college football game I had ever been to.”
“You were nine,” my dad says. “We watched Princeton play Brown. I walked you around the campus and told you about my dream for you. Your mom and I didn’t have much money when you were young, but we always put money into your college fund. And in a few weeks, you’ll graduate Eastbrooke and then this fall you’ll be there. Part of me can’t believe it. This picture seems like it was yesterday.”