“This is all bullshit. I’m not standing in here and having some pity party where you both say sorry for failing me!” I yell. “I’m not forgiving you, if that’s what you’re asking for!” I shout at my dad. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I can’t help reminding you of someone I never even got to meet. It’s not my fault if I look or act like her. You’ve punished me my whole fucking life for something that I have no way of controlling, All I ever wanted when I was younger was for you to be proud of me. I never stood a chance though, did I? You were too busy trying to pretend I didn’t exist until I annoyed you enough to beat me and make yourself feel better.”
My voice cracks and I feel hot tears spill across my cheeks. I hate it. I hate that he’s seeing me cry. I always promised myself that I wouldn’t let him see me cry.
I want to rip this whole damn room apart and smash something. I want someone else to hurt as much as I am right now.
I want Blair.
Mom’s standing now, too. She attempts to hug me but I shrug away from her.
“You know why I’m here? I didn’t even want to come,” I say spitefully. “I’m here because she,” I point at Mom, “and my girlfriend persuaded me that I needed to gain some closure in case you died,” I bellow at my dad. “Well here it is—here’s my parting speech. Honestly, I hope it’s the last thing I ever have to say to you: NO, I DO NOT FORGIVE YOU!
“I never will. You treated me like your worst enemy and I was a kid, just a kid. I always thought it was my fault, and you let me. The only reason you’re saying sorry now is because you’re scared that you’re going to die and want to make peace. Well, screw you! I hope you go to hell where you belong,” I sob, then turn and head to the door. I turn around to see that his eyes are red and welled up.
Good.
“I’ll see you back at the hotel,” I manage to say to Mom, and she nods, looking downright shattered as I walk out of the room. I brace myself on the wall and try to catch my breath. I’m crying and can’t seem to get enough oxygen. I think maybe I’m having a panic attack. I crouch down and place my head between my knees and try to calm down but it’s not working.
“Ethan!” Dad shouts as the door falls closed slowly. There’s alarm in his voice.
“Are you okay, there?” a male doctor in a pair of blue scrubs asks, kneeling next to me. I look at him in fear. I can only see his furrowed brow and a pair of concerned brown eyes until he pulls his mask from his mouth. I can’t speak through the gasping and my vision begins to swim, causing his features to blur together into one dark tan mass.
The pressure behind my eyes feels like it’s reached breaking point, and my head is about to explode. I fall onto my ass and my chest begins to burn. I wonder if I’m about pass out, or maybe suffocate and die right here. I stop trying to fight for more air as I realize death would be welcomed. The blue figure next to me is laying me down onto the floor and shouting something but I can’t tell what through the ringing in my ears. My head hurts too much and I close my eyes and wish for everything to just stop.
Please stop.
I’m too tired. I don’t want to live like this anymore. Suddenly Blair is standing above me, smiling. She looks so beautiful as she reaches down and touches my face and then everything is still.
The noise disappears, my chest stops burning and the pressure dissipates… and then so does she.
THE BUZZ IN Joe’s is lightening my mood, it always does. Dad used to bring Em and me here sometimes after school if he was home from the office early enough. He’d show up outside school and announce that it was an ice cream kind of day, then we’d jump in the car and head to Joe’s. Our orders were always the same. Dad would get a ridiculously large banana split with extra whip, even though he didn’t particularly like cream, and then when it came, complain that there was too much and give it to me. He knew I loved it. Em would order a chocolate sundae every time without fail, and I would order a strawberry sundae with extra chocolate sauce and cherries.
“Seriously guys, if I eat any more I think I’m going to be sick,” Casey says, pushing her dish aside. She wriggles in her seat and pulls at her waistband, stretching it out and making a show of trying to create more room.
“You cannot be passing up perfectly good ice cream?” Brie says skeptically, before leaning over and scooping the remainder into her bowl. I have no idea how someone so thin can eat the way that she does and not gain weight. She’s tiny but she eats like a dude.
Casey pulls up her hot pink tank and rubs at her washboard stomach.
“Ugh…sorry guys but it’s gotta happen,” she says popping the button on her skinny jeans and letting out an embarrassingly loud groan.
“Oh my god, that feels so good.”
I laugh as Brie rolls her eyes and says, “Casey, you sound like you’re about to have an orgasm.”
My eyes widen at Brie’s comment. This place is heaving with families and little kids.
“Oh…oh…oh, yeah. That’s it…mmmmm,” Casey moans and I sink low into my seat and grab a menu to shield my face.
Brie busts out laughing and for the life of me I can’t understand how they are both not mortified. I peek over the menu to see two guys staring over with huge grins plastered on their faces, and a woman with two little boys next to them shooting us daggers.
“What the hell was that?” I exclaim in a whisper-shout. “Everyone’s staring.”
“Relax,” they both answer at the same time.