Contessa (86 page)

Read Contessa Online

Authors: Lori L. Otto

Tags: #Fiction, #Coming of Age


I do, Jon,

I cry.

I love you!


And what, you lied about the college money, too?
Why
would you
do
that?


You didn

t want it anyway–


You

re right, I didn

t–


And I don

t understand why you don

t!


I wouldn

t expect you to. You

ve had everything delivered on a freaking
platinum
platter all of your life. Have you ever worked for anything? Have you ever not gotten what you wanted?


All the time!


Right, right, I forgot, you didn

t get the dad you wanted. You disgust me.


Jon...


How could you say those things to him? How could you take him for granted? I would do anything to have my father back. He wasn

t necessarily a good man, or a great father, but he was my dad. He would have moved heaven and earth for me. Just like your dad does. And to insult him like that...


I know,

I sob.

I know I shouldn

t have said those things.


No, you shouldn

t have. I

m not sure how you

ll make this better, Liv. But I know this much: I don

t want to see you until you do.


What do you mean by that?


We need some time apart. Grow up. Start doing things for someone other than yourself.


That

s not fair, I

d do anything for you.


For one thing, I can

t even believe you when you say that. And another thing, I don

t know that I could trust you to continue to treat me with any amount of respect or dignity.


I mean it. And I do respect you.


Yeah?

He picks up my left hand and I close my fist instinctively, thinking he

s going to try to take the ring back. He doesn

t, though. He opens up my hand, palm up, and starts to press into each of the paint stains.

Well, what did your father do to lose your respect?

After he

s touched every one of them, he throws my hand down.

I think about his question as I wipe more tears away. I think about his gesture even more. He knows I keep the marks for Nate. They

re my own tattoos, my permanent reminders of him that I always have with me. I

m embarrassed that he

s figured it out.

Nothing,

I whisper.


Exactly. Go make it right.


But I don

t know how.

My statement isn

t meant to garner any sympathy from him. I honestly don

t know what I can do to fix things.


I

d start with some soap and hot water,

he says sarcastically, nodding once more to my hand. He turns to walk up the street toward the bus stop.


I love you,

I call to him. He keeps walking, as if he didn

t hear.

But I know he did.

I watch him until he gets on the bus, hoping he

ll look back, but he never does.

A cab pulls up in front of my house. I

d forgotten that I invited Camille over.


Hey, Liv!

she waves at me as the taxi pulls away from the curb. After getting a glimpse of my face, she rushes over.

What

s wrong?


Everything,

I cry to her, finally too weak to stand, falling on my knees to the damp grass. She squats down next to me.


What happened? Was that Jon?


Yeah. He broke up with me.

My best friend takes my left hand into hers, examining the ring.

You

re still wearing it.


He

s mad at me. I screwed up, Camille. Really badly, with everyone.


What

d you do?

I begin to try to explain, but so much has happened since I walked through the front door that I can

t even find order in things.
How did Jon asking Dad if I could go to prom with him turn into this?


I

m sure you

re making it out to be much worse than it is.


In most instances, I

d agree, but not this one,

I cough out through lingering sobs.

It

s bad.


Should I go?


I don

t want you to,

I tell her,

but I have no doubt I

m grounded.


Well, let me get you inside, at least.

She helps me to my feet, steadying me as I continue to cry.

Livvy, it will all be okay. I promise.


I said so many things that I can

t take back. And I need to. I
have
to. I made Daddy cry,

I choke out, crying even harder.

He couldn

t even look at me. And then he got in a fight with my mom. It

s awful.


Shhh.

She tries to comfort me, opening the front door. I can hear my dad in Trey

s room, talking to him softly. I

m sure this ordeal really affected my brother. There

s no way he didn

t hear what was going on outside his door. We were all too loud.
I feel even worse.


Let

s go,

Dad says to my brother. He appears in the hallway carrying a duffel bag. He takes a small suitcase from my brother in his left hand. My brother

s hand is clutching tightly to Dad

s fingers.


What–


Don

t upset your brother.

That

s all he says to me as he brushes past me and Camille. He doesn

t even look at me, though. I turn around to watch him grab his keys and usher my brother out the front door.


Daddy!

I yell after him. Camille and I stand, frozen, only moving as we both shudder when the door slams shut.


Oh, crap, Livvy.

I bust out crying, even harder than before. My best friend guides me to the couch, putting her arm around me after we sit down. A few times, she tries to say something, but stops herself. In the end, she just lets me get all of my emotions out as I hug a pillow tightly into my stomach. It doesn

t make the nausea go away.


I feel sick,

I finally tell her.


Calm down,

she says.

You

re just upset. Take some deep breaths.

I try to follow her advice, but my efforts keep getting thwarted as I choke out more tears.

My dad left once,

she says plainly.

He came back after a few days.


What? A few
days
? My parents haven

t been apart in years, Camille. Literally
years
.

She frowns at me, trying to be consoling.

He

s human, though. We all need space sometimes.


Not him,

I argue.

He

s nothing without his family. He says that all the time.


He has your brother. He

ll be fine.


I wonder if Mom knows he left.

We both sit in silence as my mind lingers on that thought.

I need to talk to my mom,

I finally tell her.

I have to start somewhere.


Okay,

Camille says.

I can wait in your room, if you want.


No. I think it

s best if I do this alone.


Well, you can call me any time. Okay?


Okay.


And in fact, I want you to call me. Tonight.


If I

m not grounded, I will. So don

t count on a call,

I try to joke with her.


You

ll be alright.


I

m a horrible person.

I slump into the couch.


You

re a good person,

she argues, patting my knee.

You
are
.

I nod, but don

t really agree.

I

ll talk to you later.


Love you, Liv.


Thanks, Camille. Love you, too.

I try to compose myself, waiting fifteen minutes before venturing up into my mother

s room.


Mom?

I call to her from outside the locked door.


Go to your room, Liv,

she says, her voice still stifled by sadness.

Think about what you

ve done today. I

ll come down when I

m ready to talk to you.


Mom, I

m sorry,

I plead with her.


That

s not enough today. Just go to your room, and don

t come out until I tell you to.

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