by Ivy Fox
I watch Snow’s eyes sparkle for the first time since she entered the room and I’m once again sucker punched right in my gut.
Stop being a pussy! I inwardly yell at myself, averting my eyes back to my plate, knowing the food will taste bland compared to the sweet taste of the cherry lips sitting so close to me.
“They have all sorts of things you can do. I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you,” I hear Elle trail on.
“Do you really think that’s possible? Me being a new student and all?” Snow asks hopefully, revealing how much the opportunity would mean to her.
“You bet I do.” Elle’s grin widens.
“I’ll have a word with the principal to make it so,” my father adds, gaining smiles from both girls.
I pick up my pancake with my hand and push the whole thing into my mouth. It’s the only way I can keep myself from asking why the hell he’s acting all interested in Snow’s business. When Vivienne adds her two cents to the conversation, it’s painfully clear she doesn’t like Snow stealing away her limelight in dear old dad’s eyes.
“Oh, Malcolm, that’s very sweet of you to offer, but no need for you to go through all that trouble. I don’t think it’s wise, all things considered,” Vivienne hums, and my father’s lips thin out.
“What things?” My sister questions, annoyed.
“Don’t get me wrong, dear. It’s very nice of you to think of Holland and this transition of hers to a new school. I applaud your effort in trying to guide my daughter on how to best fit in at Pembroke in any way she can. But Holland is very much aware that, even if certain opportunities are dangled in front of her, it doesn’t mean they are within her reach. She can’t exert herself, I’m afraid, and having any demanding extracurricular activities, on top of the school’s challenging workload, is basically asking too much of my daughter.”
Ollie tenses beside me with suppressed anger while Elle tries hard not to flip Vivienne off as a response to the witch’s insinuation. The woman is one sentence short of calling Snow incompetent, slow, and stupid. Ollie and I both know she’s anything but, and my sister, being the great judge of character that she is, wants to call bullshit on Vivienne’s veiled remark, too.
“Holland will do great. Yes, she might be overwhelmed at first with the new environment, but I think you’re not giving your daughter enough credit.” Elle defends Snow with all her charm, holding her composure confidently while restraining her inner thoughts from cursing the woman outright.
“Oh, Eleanor, you have such a kind heart,” the bitch cajoles. “But at the end of the day, Holland has her limitations, and as her mother, I have to think about her well-being.” She continues on with the charade of being a concerned parent, going as far as placing her hands over the hollow space where her heart should have been. “I wish my daughter could partake in normal activities, like any other normal child. I really do. But giving her false hope is just setting her up for failure. And what kind of mother would I be if I willingly allowed her to do something that would put too much strain on her health?” Vivienne sobs softly.
The fuck is she talking about?
“You’re sick?” Ollie asks out of place, his brows raised high above his black-framed glasses. My own eyes find a mortified Snow, shrinking in her seat with each word her bitch of a mother utters.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t you all know? I was sure the topic had been broached already on our wedding day. Really, Holland?! This is your new family. I’m so disappointed you’ve kept your illness a secret.” Vivienne shakes her head disapprovingly.
And although I want to reach out over the table and stick two forks into the malicious woman’s eye sockets, I’m too frantic about the bomb the witch just laid on us to care for her fakery right now. Elle squeezes Snow’s knee again, and her mortification shifts to a mixture of shame, resentment, and oddly enough, grief—a myriad of emotions that should never touch such a beautiful, deceitful face.
“My brother asked you a question! Are you sick?” I below out, unable to keep it in any longer.
Snow lifts her head in my direction, then in Ollie’s. She opens her mouth and then seals it shut again, but her eyes tell me all I need to know without her breathing a word.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Holland! This is your family now. Why do you insist on keeping them clueless?” her heartless mother protests. She then turns to face us all, ready and willing to throw her daughter to the wolves just so she can have some sympathy. “Holland was diagnosed with Lupus when she was barely fifteen and, unfortunately, lost a kidney before we were able to identify the cause. The one she does have is also damaged, but her doctors are very optimistic. As long as she keeps to a healthy lifestyle, dialysis isn’t yet needed. Luckily she’s been able to control it, but these types of diseases are very sensitive in nature. Stress, poor nutrition, exertion, anything really, can provoke an episode. This is why I have to be prudent with her choices. She’s not like other children, so she can’t behave like one, either. Her life literally depends on it.”
The loud, deafening sound that rings in my ears can only be a signal of one thing—my heart ceasing to exist.
“Lupus?” Ollie croaks out in terror, his analytical mind undoubtingly imagining the worst-case scenarios.
Fucking Vivienne didn’t even try to soften the blow, either; telling us our girl only has one working kidney that, apparently, could become shot to shit at any time.
I observe Snow struggling to get her words out, and it’s evident she had no intention of telling us this harsh news. Especially over breakfast. Guess her mother isn’t too contrite after casually broadcasting her kid’s illness over coffee and the morning paper.
“But it’s not life-threatening, is it? I mean you can’t die, right?” my baby sister hushes, grasping the small ribbons of her naive hope, wondering if this illness can rob such a young life.
“It won’t come to that. If the worst were to happen, I’m sure we would have time to find a suitable donor,” Vivienne answers on Snow’s behalf, comforting my sister’s worries, while totally neglecting her own flesh and blood. The fake, sweet tone in Vivienne’s voice is what snaps Snow out of her haze. She raises her head, throwing a cold, gray stare in Vivienne’s direction, and my chest tightens, witnessing that the lost girl has suddenly disappeared and in her place is a lioness gone wild.
“That’s enough, Mother,” she snarls, her lethal gaze putting a stop to Vivienne’s conceited antics.
Ollie pushes his chair back so rapidly that it leaves marks on the floor, interrupting the awkward silence in the room. He doesn’t excuse himself, but leaves in a mad dash, probably to conceal the tears emerging after hearing such earth-shattering news. I wipe my mouth on the white-linen napkin, hoping no one sees my trembling fingers. I then throw it on my plate before rushing to make my own quick exit.
“Always so great spending time with family. This has been enlightening. Let’s not do this again so soon, shall we?” I suggest bitterly, offering my own fuck-you smile to my new stepmother for killing me today, without once letting on she was going to hammer the final nail in my coffin.
Of course, my older brother decides to show up at that very minute, and I almost run into him in my haste to get the hell out of the room and search for a distraught Ollie.
“What’s gotten into you?” Rome asks, placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. With just one look, he’s able to tell how fucked up I am. His jaw squares rigidly, and he instantly goes into protective mode, assuming my father to be the one responsible for my rage. However, when he looks over my shoulder and sees who is sitting at the table, he relaxes a bit.
“Not here one day, and she already has you running.” He shakes his head displeased. “Be careful, brother. Don’t let that girl be the end of you.”
Too late.
She already was my beginning, and it looks like she’ll be my inescapable end, too.
Chapter 17
Holland
; “What do you mean you’re not coming?” I hear my father yell into the phone.
I turn on my side in the hospital bed, facing the white wall, so he won’t see that I’m awake. Honestly, though, I don’t think anyone could sleep through all his angry yelling. As much as he tries to curb his temper, this latest call with my mother seems to have pushed him to his limit. Unfortunately, her shrill voice is just as loud, and my own poor ears catch every damning word.
“Craig, I see no point in going all the way to Brookhaven when you and your mother are there to hold her hand. I told you before; I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“It’s not about holding our daughter’s hand while she undergoes surgery, Vivienne. It’s about showing her she is loved and cared for. What could ever be more important than being here when she needs you most?!” my father growls into the phone.
I shrink into the bed, holding the stiff sheet up to my chin, trying hard to shield my frail heart from those piercing words. It’s not as if I didn’t know I was on the bottom of my mother’s list of priorities, but it still stings, hearing its confirmation from the woman’s own mouth.
“Where is this coming from all of a sudden? If I recall, not even a month ago you had a hard time even remembering you had a daughter. And now you’re running for ‘Dad of the Year’ and giving me attitude because I refuse to do the same? Please, Craig! You don’t fool me. This sudden fatherly concern is nothing but your guilt playing mind-games on you. And guilt is a useless sentiment. You should know that by now.”
I hear my father pace back and forth on the tile floor, huffing out despondently, realizing his attempt to inspire any feeling of motherly love is futile.
“Can you please stop being a bitch, just for one day, and come to support your daughter?” he grunts through gritted teeth.
“No.”
“No?” he repeats in astonishment.
“You heard me loud and clear,” she answers flatly.
“Vee, I’m begging you. If not for Holland, then for me,” I hear him hush out, and the fragility in my father’s voice is what does me in.
The tears I had been containing, break free, slowly running down my cheek one at a time.
“I think I’ve done enough for you. I had her, didn’t I? I did my part, just as you asked. If Holland’s body is now shutting down, then maybe it was you who should have listened to me all those years ago. If I had had the abortion and gotten rid of her as I wanted in the first place, then she would have been spared a life full of hospital rooms and people looking down on her in pity. But, no! You wouldn’t have it, saying how you couldn’t bear to lose another child and that she would make us both happy in our marriage. Well, here you have it, Craig. Sometimes we can’t change fate no matter how hard we try. Your precious daughter will die anyway, and our marriage is on its last leg.”
As much as I should hate my mother at this moment, it’s my father I hold the most resentment for. He could have made this nightmarish call from the hall and spared me from having to listen to each vile word. He could also be upfront with his feelings, just as my mother is. He shouldn’t be here pretending he gives a crap about me when, in truth, it’s just as my mother said—guilt is what binds him to me, not love. Even though they hurt, I don’t mind my mother’s words so much. At least they are honest. My father suddenly wanting to be part of my life is what I am wary of. His heart is fickle, and the minute I get the all-clear from the doctors, he’ll go back to seeing me once a month, if that. I’d bet my life on it.
“Vivienne, I want you to listen to me, and listen good. If you aren’t sitting at our daughter’s bedside the minute she opens her eyes after her surgery, I guarantee you will live to regret it,” he threatens in a menacing tone I’ve never heard him use.
A cold laugh rings out in the room, one that I have heard many times before. It’s the laugh my mother uses when she’s found a way to make me feel small and insignificant.
“Oh, Craig, don’t bother me with your threats. We both know you don’t have the balls to see them through,” she sings before abruptly hanging up on him.
I hear him call her a bitch again, and then huff out in exasperation. With my back still to him, I wipe my tears away with my palms but stop the minute his restless steps move toward my bed.
“Hey, baby girl. Are you awake?” he asks lovingly, his tone no longer holding the scorn he used with my mother a few seconds ago. He walks over to the side of the bed, pulling a chair with him, and sits down in front of me.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I nod, keeping my features as unaffected as possible.
“Shit,” he mumbles, running his fingers through his curly blond hair. “So, you heard me talking to your mother, huh?”
I want to tell him it was impossible not to hear, but instead, I shake my head, and his tense shoulders relax.
“Okay. Good. That’s good.”
“Is Mom coming?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but interested in seeing what white lie my father is going to spin. It’s easier to have a list of all of his faults, so keeping tabs on the times he’s lied to me reminds me that I should never believe in a word he says—particularly when he says that he loves me.
“Unfortunately, your mom won’t be able to make it, sweetheart. She has a very important job to do in helping other little boys and girls getting better when they’re sick. There are a lot of families that depend on her, so you have to give her some slack, okay? But don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be here, and so will Nana. All the way, baby girl,” he promises, gently moving my hair away from my eyes. He tenderly caresses my still wet cheek with his knuckles, spawning a small frown on his face.
“Are you scared?” he questions, mistaking my tear-stricken face as the result of fear instead of sadness.
I nod my head in reply, afraid of revealing the true culprit behind my waterworks if I use my voice instead.
“You don’t have to be. This procedure is done every day, and we have the best doctors taking care of you. You’ll be up and running about in no time. I promise, sweetheart. All you have to do is trust me, and I promise you everything will be okay. You trust me, don’t you, baby girl?” he pleads hopefully, and my own lie springs forth without missing a beat.
“Yeah, Dad. I trust you.”
The subway car comes to a jerky halt, thankfully bringing me out of my reverie. My eyes take a second to recognize my surroundings after being trapped in the memory from my past. I swear I can still feel the coarse hospital gown prickling my skin, and the heavy scent of disinfectant tainting the air around me.
“Are you okay?” Elle questions next to me, her soft hand covering mine on the rail to grab my attention.
She’s been nothing but sweet to me all morning, and I’ve been inside my head for most of it. I don’t even remember the dresses I tried on, let alone which one she picked for me to wear tonight. If I don’t snap out of it, pretty soon Elle will get bored of me and cease trying to befriend me altogether.
“I’m sorry, Elle. You’ve been so nice, and I haven’t been much fun, have I?”
“Hey, I get it. After this morning’s breakfast fiasco, I’d be a little out of it, too.”
I shrug and offer her a sheepish smile, in hopes she takes my silence on the matter as a cue not to pursue the sore subject any further.
“Can I tell you the truth? I mean, we are sisters now, right? Might as well tell each other what we’re really thinking,” she ventures encouragingly. “I know it’s a crappy thing to say, but your mom is not one of my favorite people. Not by a long shot,” she finishes politely, raising her nose up in the air as if smelling a foul stench.
“Yeah, she’s not one of mine either, I’m afraid,” I admit somberly, but my pensive mood starts to lift a bit, watching Elle’s expression of utter agreement.
As I suspected the few times I’d been around the stunning brunette, she has very animated expressions when in her element and know
s how to dominate them into submission when the circumstances call for it. I’ve been schooling mine to do the same for years but witnessing how easily Elle can cloak her true feelings makes me realize who the true master is.
“Good. And what do you know? We’ve finally had our first bonding experience, even if it’s over our distaste for your mother. See? We’re acting like sisters already.” She laughs off. “So, do I have your undivided attention now?”
“I’m all yours.” I giggle, taking a page from her handbook, enjoying the moment of freedom away from our parents.
“Excellent. Next stop—Pembroke High.”
I give her another grin, trailing behind her as she waltzes out of the subway station. She doesn’t know it, but I was so thankful that Elle was adamant in using public transportation today instead of the town car her father insisted on.
I understand why Judge Grayson is trying hard to make an effort in welcoming me into the family, but my instincts tell me there is something off about him. Aside from everything Ollie and Ash told me about the man—which in hindsight wasn’t much—my intuition cautions that he is just as dangerous and vile as my mother is. Honestly, if that’s the type of pre-requisites a person needs to belong to the ranks of the elite, then I’m all for not making the cut. I’m beginning to think Elle is of the same mindset. I know for a fact that Ollie and Ash sure were.
Ollie and Ash. What must they be thinking about me right now?
My chest starts to tighten, remembering their pained expressions when my mother outed me so callously. If they thought I was a liar before, then there is no way they will ever believe me now. It didn’t go at all as I had imagined it in my mind. I was going to sit them down and smoothly explain everything, making sure they knew that just because I have this disease, it doesn’t change who I am. I’m still me—the same girl they fell in love with. But now, I’ll never have the chance to do it right. Just one more thing my mother took away from me. How am I ever going to survive a whole year with her, when I couldn’t even escape unscathed from our first meal together?