And I reply just as fast. Hey. Yes, come over for dinner.
Once Anthony drops me off, I think twice about running away. But to go where? First, I need a new phone, and the only person I trust enough to get me one is Emma. I will ask her to get me a new one this evening. One thing is for sure: sooner or later I’ll leave Park Avenue and the prison my parents built for me, and I will never ever return there again.
Letting out a breath, I go into my useless appointment with Dr. Nel. And just like usual, she welcomes me with a big, fake smile, inviting me in.
“Please make yourself at home,” she says, seeing the skeptical look on my face as I slowly step into her minimalist office. Well, home is prison, so if that’s what she meant, I’m already feeling at home. I sit on the edge of the chaise lounge, instead of lying on it like I usually do. Dr. Nel is the enemy, and I should’ve never been so comfortable around her. “How are you feeling today?” she asks, feigning interest in me.
“I’m alright,” I say nonchalantly. If she believes I’m gonna open up and share my entire life with her, she’s in for a big disappointment.
After she closes the door behind us, Dr. Nel goes to her briefcase and takes something from there. I can’t really see what’s in her hand, but as she stands in front of me and hands it to me, my heart falls to the ground.
“You can’t be serious?” I ask in outrage.
“You’re no longer on the pill, right?” Dr. Nel keeps extending her hand, holding a box containing the morning after pill. “You had unprotected sex yesterday, so it’s better you take one.”
But of course, I forgot that my body also now belongs to them. What do I have left that can be considered mine?
Blowing out a breath, I know there is no point fighting Dr. Nel. If I try running away, the bodyguards will show up in record time and she will most likely insert that tracking chip under my skin. I can already picture the grotesque scenario: I’d be crying over my fate, kicking everyone as much as I could, but in vain, and she’d give me a little something to put me to sleep, then complete the injection without resistance. A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel like throwing up as I realize how powerless I am. Jeez, I am indeed a rat in a cage. Breathe, Petra… Just breathe…
I take the emergency contraception, put it on my tongue, and swallow. “Done,” I tell her, showing her my empty mouth.
Dr. Nel gives me a sympathetic smile for my compliance. “Good…” Then she returns to her desk, where she takes her notebook and pen, and sitting in her armchair, she says, “Now we can start the session.”
There isn’t a single moment I don’t think about running away. In fact, every time I step outside and onto the street, my heart begs me to ask for help, but my head reminds me how useless it is to do so. Then I see Anthony holding the rear door open and waiting for me to do what I’m supposed to do—get into the car and go home, without protesting about the lack of control I have over my own life. Actually, my parents and their minions expect me to comply at every turn. Otherwise… Jeez, I shiver, picturing what they are capable of doing. As I get into the car, my thoughts go to Dad and how naive I was to have trusted him to go to Rotterdam in order to talk to Mom… The faith and trust I had in my own father is forever gone. He sold his soul to the devil, and I’ll never forget it. Fortunately, in a few hours, Emma will be here, and we will be able to prepare a plan for me to contact Alex and escape this nightmare once and for all. Incredible how a nineteen-year-old is more reliable than the man who’s supposed to be my dad.
“Hey, how was your day?”
Mom’s voice startles me as I step into the house. I’m so tired of her fake, sugary tone, but I prefer not to say a word about it. “I took the pill, in case Dr. Nel didn’t tell you yet.”
Mom doesn’t hide her astonishment upon hearing my blunt answer. “I understand you’re upset. If I were your age, I’d be hating my mom too.” Mom walks closer and tries to reach for me, but I take two steps back. “Petra,” she starts. “I can assure you that your dad and I did it because we have your best interests at heart. Even if you don’t agree with it.”
I can’t help but huff at her pathetic excuse. And before going up the stairs to my atelier, I look her in the eye and say, “One day, I will marry him.”
Three hours later, I thought Mom would have left the house and gotten a life, but alas she is still here, and she’s again knocking on the door of my atelier. Jeez! She’s the most persistent woman I know.
“Petra, Emma is here.” Oh! Finally! The only words that could make me leave my painting in the blink of an eye and open the door wide.
“Emma!” I plunge her in a hug, embracing her as tightly as I can. Then I look at Mom and say, “Thanks, you may leave us now.” But before I bring Emma into my atelier, I wait for Mom to leave the hallway and go down the stairs. Once I hear steps on the marble staircase, I invite Emma to come in, and lock the door behind us.
I put my index finger to my mouth, instructing her to stay quiet. In the silence, I close my eyes, trying to discern any noise coming from the hallway. Since I don’t hear anything, I lead Emma to the other side of the atelier, as far away as possible from the door.
Without saying a word, Emma takes a brand-new iPhone 12 from her purse and gives it to me. What? How did she know I needed a new phone? But before I can ask her, she types in the passcode, which is 1205 and also my birthday, and I smile, immediately figuring everything out—it’s Alex who gave it to her.
Then Emma goes to the Notes app and shows me a text. My heart picks up immediately upon recognizing that it’s a message from him:
Petra, keep this phone away from your parents. I’ll meet you Friday, 10 p.m., at Emma’s place. Bring this phone with you and pack some summer clothes. Be careful not to get caught!
I love you, A.
Dear Lord! I have to put my palm over my mouth to contain my sobs. Emma pulls me into her arms to soothe me, and I quietly let the tears fall. Oh my… We are finally gonna be together soon.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear. “You have no idea how much it means to me.” I knew that Emma would always help me out.
As she releases me, her expression is filled with a seriousness I haven’t seen from her before. She presses her lips against my cheek, and then asks in a low voice, “Did they do anything to you?” Her empathy and concern warm my heart. And I can imagine Alex called her immediately after I left his condo and told her what happened there.
I shake my head in response. For some reason, I don’t feel capable of sharing with her my parents’ threats of a forced injection.
Her fingers start stroking my cheek as she observes my untamable distress. “Everything is gonna be alright,” she says, keeping her voice low. After all, we can never be too prudent. “Do you think you can manage to come over Friday night?”
“Yeah, I… I will talk to Dad and convince him.”
And damn, I don’t know what I did to deserve someone so special and caring like her, but thank God for sending me Emma.
Chapter 30
Manhattan, October 21, 2020
Petra Van Gatt
I didn’t sleep well last night. But this time, it wasn’t because of Alex, as I know it’s only a matter of days until we meet again. This time, it was because of Mom. I totally screwed up yesterday evening when Mom wanted to have dinner with Emma and me. Yes, I should’ve been smarter and more pleasant, but the hate I have for her took over, and after a bloody battle, Mom had left the dining table in tears. Just leave me alone and go back to Rotterdam, I remember shouting at her when she wanted to sit with us. Even Emma asked me to calm down, but I couldn’t. The disgust I have for that woman is too great. Then she asked me to stop, but I was too furious to even care, and that’s when I spit out, What a pity you are still alive. Mom broke down crying and left the table, making me feel like the most horrible person on the planet. I have to admit, I’m not proud I said that. I hate hurting her, as it hurts me just as much, but I can’t accept what she is doing
to me either. All I wanted was to be with you, she said before leaving the dining room, carrying her plate, most likely to eat in the kitchen—alone, miserable, and sad. I have to remind myself that Mom is just a manipulative bitch. She knows how to play with my emotions and make me feel remorseful. And damn, it’s working pretty well. The truth is, one day, if I’m a mother myself, I can’t possibly imagine my kids saying to me what I said to her. Maybe I should apologize for yesterday? No, she doesn’t deserve that either. She’s literally trying to destroy my relationship with my fiancé. Instead, maybe I should just please her and have a meal with her… Or at least behave civilly around her, despite everything she has done to me. Reaching the kitchen, I raise my brows seeing her already there.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mom mutters, sniffling, her hands cupping a mug as she’s sitting on one of the stools. For the first time, I see her without makeup, without her hair brushed, and in a long robe covering her pajamas. She looks barely recognizable without her daily makeup on. Then, Mom takes another sip of her tea and stands up. “I didn’t know you would be up so early.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble. “I couldn’t sleep any longer.” I give her a smile, probably the first one since she came here. “I’ll try to be more polite,” I tell her. “The toxicity in this house has become unbearable.” She just nods, her gaze tired and sleepy. “Are you alright?” I ask her. “You know, Dad could walk in at any moment and see you like this.” Not that I care, but I know she hates not being presentable.
Mom wipes her tears, and for once her voice sounds truly genuine and sincere. “Your dad didn’t come home last night, so don’t worry.”
“Oh.” Now I’m even more surprised. “And how do you know that?”
“Well, Janine arrived at my room at six this morning and told me his bed was exactly like she’d left it the day before.”
Her tone saddens me, and for the first time in eighteen years, I decide to ask, “Was he like that during your marriage?” A question I’ve never dared to ask before. One, because their marriage has been over since I can remember, and two, because I know Mom hates to talk about it.
She just shrugs in return. “Nothing has changed.”
“You must’ve felt very lonely,” I point out.
“You get used to it,” she says, before taking another sip of her tea. “And find hobbies to get over it.”
Such as drinking? The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I decide not to ask it. I know the answer already.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If I ask you something, can you be honest with me?” Not that I expect her to be, but one can always dream.
“Sure.”
“Apart from the age difference and the fact that you don’t like his family, is there any other reason you disapprove of my relationship with Alex?”
“Oh God…” Mom rolls her eyes just as fast. “Twenty-three years of age difference is reason enough, Petra.”
“Mom…” I insist, letting the word trail off. She looks me in the eye, calming down, and I hope this time she will be sincere.
“No,” she answers back. Liar. Jeez, for once I had hopes that Mom would finally open up and tell me what she has against him. But not surprisingly, she didn’t. “The age difference is the main reason. As Dr. Nel explained to you, your brain isn’t fully developed until you are twenty-five, which means you need seven more years to be able to fully weigh the consequences of your actions.” She pauses, a disgusted expression settling on her face. “What Alex did to you,” she says, shaking her head, “is beyond gross and shows a complete lack of any decency or respect toward you.”
I can’t help but protest, “You do realize we love each other, right? He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.”
Mom chuckles. “No eighteen-year-old knows what love is.” Because she does? “Believe me, what you have is nothing more than infatuation turned into an obsessive disorder.” Her cold, formal tone has now taken over. “One day, you will understand.”
The more I hear her speak, the more I wonder if Mom would’ve been against me falling in love with someone else, but of my age. Deciding to test the waters, I ask, “What if I were in love with Matthew? Would that be infatuation too? There is no age gap between us. I mean, unless you consider one year a significant difference.”
“You are too young to develop those kinds of feelings,” she says simply. “Love is a serious commitment that a teenager cannot fully understand. You may have a crush, but that’s it.”
Playing along, I keep inquiring. “So should I just fool around like Emma?”
“You don’t have to fool around like Emma. I don’t particularly fancy her lifestyle, but you can have a boyfriend and remain emotionally and physically safe.”
My eyes widen at her comment, and I can’t control the way my mouth hangs open. “What does that even mean?”
“Well, someone who respects your boundaries and understands that you are both too young to do certain things.”
What? At that instant, I must have the most cringeworthy grimace on earth on my face. “Like having sex?” I’m about to crack. The infantilization she is into is borderline offensive. The more I think about it, the more I realize I actually never spoke about sex or kinks with her, only with Emma. Jeez, if Mom thinks I’m too young to have sex, I can’t even imagine what she would think about the rest…
“Is that a requirement nowadays? You can have a boyfriend perfectly fine without doing it.”
And here we go. I’d never have imagined she’d be so protective and strict about this until now. “It’s not a requirement, but it’s natural. And it feels even better when you do it with someone you love.” I emphasis the word love to tease her.
But Mom is having none of it, and keeping her distant, formal tone, she says, “Of course it’s natural. Teens are high on hormones. That’s why it’s our responsibility as parents to protect you until your prefrontal cortex is fully developed. The problem is that teens are stubborn, and think they know better.” And she emphasizes the last word.
I can’t help but shake my head. I want so much to argue back, but just twenty minutes ago, I decided to be more sympathetic. So, taking a deep, long breath, I just tell her, “I will have some matcha.” And I leave the conversation there. No matter how much I try, Mom and I have fundamental differences. Differences that will never go away. I don’t mind different opinions—Matthew and I are very different when it comes to philosophy, and Emma and I are very different when it comes to our lifestyles—but I do mind when those opinions are being imposed on my own life and the way I should live it.
As I blink my eyes at the screen of my iPhone, I’m not sure how I should reply to Matthew’s invitation to spend the weekend in the Hamptons with the rest of the group to celebrate his twentieth birthday. After his disgusting attitude at our last lunch, he really expects me to join? What a joke! Anyway, I have to skip his event and go to Emma’s, since Alex will be waiting for me there. But what if the bodyguards follow me to her house? Jeez! That would be pure madness! This weekend is the perfect occasion to leave Manhattan and my parents behind once and for all though. I just need to make sure those guards don’t follow me. How? As I keep ruminating, the ringing sound of my iPhone startles me. Not surprisingly, it’s Matthew requesting a FaceTime. Damn! He sent me the invite, like, two minutes ago. What’s the hurry? But curiosity getting the best of me, I accept his request, and when our cams are on, we clearly don’t share the same enthusiasm at seeing each other—while I remain pretty stoic, Matthew gives me a full-tooth grin and waves at me in such a ridiculous manner that I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose to make fun of himself.
“Hi,” I say in response to his charade.
After exchanging the usual greetings and a little small talk, Matthew doesn’t waste any time jumping right into the reason for his call. “Um, did you get my invite?”
“I did,” I reply, reveling in his concern that I’ll decline it.
“
And?”
“And…” I let the word trail off as I ponder a proper answer to his question. But the truth is, there aren’t a thousand ways to put it, so instead I simply say, “I’m not sure I should go.”
Matthew’s smile disappears just as fast, and I swear his expression has never been so grave. “Why not?”
Why not? Really? “Well, not sure if you remember, but you were pretty rude to me last time we went out.”
“So you’re mad at me?” It might come as a surprise to him, but I nod, not even bothering to argue my case. “Why? Oh! Because I expressed an opinion against your ex-fiancé or whatever he is right now?”
“It wasn’t just an opinion, Matt,” I snap. “You were rude and pitiful.” Seeing Matthew blowing out a breath while he shakes his head in total disbelief, I add, “I thought you supported me. At least that’s what you told me on campus, remember?”
He presses his lips together, looking past me at nothing. “It’s not that simple…”
My brows raise at his statement. “You mean not being rude? I think it’s pretty simple, actually.”
Matthew runs a hand through his tousled hair as he keeps ruminating. “Alright, I apologize for that.” Despite his words, I see no remorse whatsoever. I don’t think he even means it. “Can you join us this weekend? Please, it’s my birthday…” he insists, pressing his hands together like in prayer.
“It’s the second time you’ve apologized for the same thing though…” I share my concerns out loud with him, not really convinced of his sincerity, which kinda sucks, since I truly believed in our friendship.
Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter Book 2) Page 29