by Lipa Nandes
Amazing how she never stops surprising me.
chapter thirty-four
neva
A month and a half have passed since the day I discovered the truth. For a month and a half, I've literally lived on Kyle's family yacht with him, always by my side.
I have to confess that the days after the incident (when I fell into the water) were undoubtedly the hardest of my life.
Even rehabilitation was not that hard for me.
I didn't have the notion of days passing by; the nights were complicated because the nightmares tormented me but, but now they were more intense.
But gradually, and with Kyle help, everything was getting more—Tolerable.
There were even a few days when Marcus and Miles came to visit me, but despite this small opening, to allow them to approach me, I still didn't feel ready to do the same with my brothers, especially Tom.
And although Kyle gave me precisely what I needed,
peace, and time to organize everything inside my head, I know he needs answers, he needs to know what really happened. And I know that it's been over a month and that his summer has been totally wasted on me; I owe him the truth.
I get up from the bed and watch the hours on Kyle's cell phone. It's almost 11 o'clock in the morning, and I know that Kyle probably must be in the kitchen preparing something to eat. As he always does since the day I move here.
I leave the room, start to climb the stairs and go directly to the kitchen.
"Kyle," I called him shifting his attention from the scrambled eggs he was preparing.
The scrambled eggs he makes are simply the best in the world. He just adds cheese, parsley and tomato sauce, lots of tomato sauce.
"Good morning, beautiful," he tells me with a torn smile. "Breakfast is almost ready." He adds.
I sat down at the dinner table, waiting for him to sit next to me.
It was only a few seconds before he brought a plate of scrambled eggs to the table and began to serve me. Then he sat down in front of me and served himself. I was trying to get the courage and strength to tell Kyle everything.
But how will he react?
"Kyle, can I talk to you?" I told him. He looked at me, stopped eating, and gave me all the attention.
My hands started to tremble under the table, but I knew it was time to have this conversation with him.
"I need to talk to you about what happened a month, and half ago, I need to tell you about the phone call," I added.
On the other hand, Kyle didn't ask me any questions, he didn't press on, he gave me the silence and the time necessary for me to start talking.
"I don't even know where to start, it's still very complicated, you know?" The nerves began to take possession of me, of my words, and my whole body started to tremble; "But let's start by the time I started taking creative writing classes," I conclude leaving a deep sigh comes out.
His eyes widened as I told him about my mother's plan with Mr. Lewis and Patrick to prevent me from being able to write and publish my first book even before ending high school.
The plan between the three was straightforward. To control my career as a writer; they want me to"experience" the world of drugs and alcohol to loosen up my imagination and creativity. Then and as soon as I'd wholly erased, Patrick would take me embarrassing pictures, naked pictures of me. That pictures were delivered to Mr. Lewis for when one day, when I was finally ready, in their point of view, to become a best-seller writer, to used those photographs to extort money from me.
Panic and frustration covered his eyes. But what really made him quite upset was when I told him that's how they earned their money.
At least until I ended up in a rehab center, apparently, after I'd gone there, they slowed down their "business" to keep it out of sight.
Amid everything I told him, he just asked me;
"Why did your mother do this to you?"
"I don't know Kyle," I said with a shake of my head.
"How do you feel now that you told me this? Or now that you found out the truth?"
I looked at him; "A mess! I'm still trying to process all of this." I told him, defeated by the truth.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure,"
"Sorry, but I never understood what led you to become completely obsessed with writing a bestseller. I've read your works of literature and — You are very talented, why do you listen to what others told you? "
Oh, Kyle, why did you remember that now? My inner devil had every intention at the moment to get out of me, but I knew I had to control him.
I had to control myself.
"Well," I began; "you don't know what it's like to live with Martha Clark, trust me," I said rudely — My mother always had her image completely immaculate and perfect. Competing with that every day, it's quite complicated, mainly when you feel the pressure of being her daughter.
"She always demanded of me what I could not give her. How can I even explain this to you!?" The words start to fail me, and my mind starts to lose any kind of reasoning; "She made me feel that I wasn't able to write, and the pressure of walking in her shoes was higher than my own will." The tears begin to brake my eyes, and I start to lose myself to those painful days. "That's why I began to take classes with Mr. Lewis, that's why I agreed to meet Patrick and his world because I wanted to do everything to please my mother so that she liked me," I conclude.
Before rehab, my life was controlled by my mother, then began to be managed the day I met Mr. Lewis and Patrick. And just sometime later, I totally lost myself to Patrick's filthy, dark world.
After my explanation I try to hold the tears in my eyes, I don't want to relive this again, and now that he already knows, maybe he will not ask me more questions about this subject.
"Thank you for telling me all this Clark, it means a lot to me." He told me warmly.
I wipe my tears, I swallowed my pain and looked at him. For that perfect boy, I had in front of me.
Silence hovered between us, and then we both began to eat our breakfast.
"Clark?"
"Yes?"
"I need to tell you something." His gaze was a little faded and empty; "I'm not going back to college in September."
Where the hell did he get this idea so silly and stupid? Whatever the reason that made him take this stupid decision; it doesn't make any sense. He had worked hard to get to Columbia college.
"What? Why?"
Kyle looked at me; "Because you need me here, and I will not leave you again." Although I could not help but smile a little at his act, I knew full well that he could not postpone his future because of me. He doesn't have to give it up for me.
The idea of leaving California, now more than ever has gained another form, another weight, another meaning.
Maybe it's best to go with him and with my brothers to Manhattan.
"Kyle, you can't do that," he was going to start talking to make me change my mind, but I was faster; "I already wanted to tell you this earlier, but I've been thinking about going with you to Manhattan, I think it's time to move on, you know, do something for me. And now that I've discovered the truth, I should get out of here."
Kyle was speechless, but I could see his gaze covering with joy.
"That's..." He started by saying but I think it was still hard for him to pick up on what he had heard; "That's what I've always wanted to do, but are you sure you want to go?"
"Yup, pretty sure. I even thought that you could take me to my father's house this afternoon, I need to talk to him and my brothers."
"Of course, of course, we could leave as soon as we finished eating, what do you think?"
"For me, great. Get an apartment in Manhattan for me, will not be easy."
"Aren't you going to live there with me, I mean, with your brothers and me?" He asked me outraged.
I burst out laughing, just him to think that I would live in a house with three boys — I mean, I live up for a month in a house with four guys, but let's say my first ex
perience with housemates didn't run very well.
"I want to go live by myself, but I don't mind being close to your house, I think I need my own space, you know, to heal and to know what the hell am I now."
Kyle didn't answer me, I believe he knew that this is what I need because, this month when I live all my days with him, it served to put my ideas in order.
I have to confess that the days after I discovered the truth, sleeping for me was practically impossible, and it was many times that Kyle and Miles caught me trying to bribe an employee at the marina to buy me some alcohol. There were many days when I felt that drinking alone was the answer to my problems. With much persistence and patience, both of them showed me in a very personal way, which may be worth living for a few more days.
It was then that I decided to go in September to Manhattan. I need to get away from everything that hurts me here.
After we had finished breakfast, we both went to the bedroom, cleaned our teeth, got dressed, and then went out to my father's house.
Hopefully, I don’t see my mother there, she doesn’t even deserve that title anymore.
Maybe I never really had a mother.
chapter thirty-five
neva
The fifteen minutes separating Cabrillo Marina from Rolling Hills was too short for me to even think about what I was going to say to my father.
How was I going to explain to him why I wanted to move to Manhattan?
Because even though I know that what Martha did to me is completely wrong, I am not going to drop this bomb in my father's life.
It will have to be her, she will have to live with her choices, will have to deal with the pain of having done something so horrible to me.
Kyle stopped in front of the gates of my house; "Do you want me to go with you?"
I inhaled and exhaled deeply and lifting my head; "No, I need to do this on my own."
Kyle reached for the glove compartment of the car and pulled it out something; "Hey, here's your cell phone. If you need me call me, I'm at my house."
I picked up the device, and kissed Kyle's cheek; "Thank you," I grinned at him opening the car door.
As soon as I closed the door behind me, and Kyle headed for his house, I found myself alone in front of the beast's house.
The panic of not knowing what could happen inside eat me alive tried to make me unable to come in and face my reality. But I wasn't going to allow it to happen. Whatever happens, I know that from now on, I have no alternative but to be strong enough to control my life.
I took a deep breath, dialed my code, and as the gates in front of me began to open, Tom's image appeared just in front of me, just inches from me.
I couldn't do anything else if not run toward him to hug him. After all, I missed my brother all this time.
"Where the hell have you been Clark," he asked me. I could feel his breath against the top of my head.
"It's a long story Tom," I pulled away from him, looked up; "How did you know—"
"Kyle told me."
"Of course, he told you.” I let out a small smile; "Come on, let's go inside, I need to talk to you, Owen and dad."
Tom looked at me in surprise but heeded what I ask him. He put his arm around my neck, and we both went into the house.
The feeling of going into that house is still the same since I came here when I got back from rehab, but this time, my motive is different.
Tom opened the door and told me that our father was in the library and that while I was going there, Tom would go to Owen's room to call him.
As soon as Tom left my side, I quickly went to the library to talk to my father, and to avoid seeing Martha.
As I walked, I could hear her voice from the kitchen; That bitch, my inner devil thought.
No Neva, we didn't come here for that, my subconscious told me.
I shook my head to let those thoughts evaporate from my head.
When I stopped in front of the library door; "Dad, may I come in?" I asked him as I opened the door.
I peeked inside and saw him standing looking toward the door, in a big step, I walked in, and before I could close the door, I was already wrapped in his arms.
"Oh my god, you're here," he told me, holding my face looking straight at me.
His eyes were wet, and his voice full of joy to see me there again.
"Dad," I started by saying with my trembling voice. I cleared my throat and continued; "I want to go to Manhattan in September."
"What?" My brothers asked in unison as they entered the library.
Without even giving me time to breathe, they flooded me with questions.
They wanted to know why I wanted to go, what had happened after that day at the police station, they wanted to know where I had been so far...
I started to feel very claustrophobic with them.
But then— "Robert," a voice calls from behind the door.
Oh no, please no, not her. Please! Please!
That bitch came in, and my eyes met hers. My fury begins to build again inside me. I was well aware in my mind that I didn't go there to face her.
I just went there to ask my dad for help, nothing more.
"Neva, honey you're here," She said, approaching me.
How can she act like everything is normal? As if nothing had happened?
"Oh Martha, please don't pretend it's everything okay because it's not," I told her in disgust.
Unfortunately for both of us, I could no longer control my anger against her.
"Neva," my father warned me. The poor man will have a heart attack as soon as he knows what his dear wife did to me.
"Just give me one reason to continue, or should I give you the honor of opening?" My eyes and words played with her, it was noticeable because her whole body began to react to what I was telling her.
Feeling the tension between us; "What is going on here after all?" My father asked.
I kept looking at her, I kept staring at her in a way that I've never been able to do in my entire life.
"Rob, I have to talk to you privately," She told him, clearing the throat.
Of course, she wants to talk to him alone, she doesn't want to show her flaws in front of my brothers.
"No," I interviewed. "If you want to talk to my father, you'll talk in front of us all, so everyone will know what you're capable of. So, everyone will know the real Martha Clark." I confronted her.
Although the beginning was a bit shaky, she starts to telling everything she had done, from how she met Mr. Lewis, to the point where she decided to do the same to me.
But now, I just wanted to know why.
My brothers and my father were totally shocked, jaw-dropping.
"Why? Why did you do this to me?" I asked, interrupting her.
She didn't dare to look at me, and utterly defeated; "I did it because I'm jealous of you. You're such a natural talent, you can write about everything in a snap. You don't have to strain to write the same way I have." She told me with tears in the eyes.
Jealous of me? She fucking kidding me right now?
I've got it, she wants to manipulate everybody in this room, she wants to fool me.
"You guys, if you'll excuse us, I need to talk to your mother alone." My father told us.
Unable to do anything else against her, I heeded my father's request and left the library with my brothers.
As I closed the door, I heard my cell phone ring, I picked it up and on the screen appeared a message from Miles; "I'm going to Chicago today, wanna come to my house before I go? Don't worry, Patrick isn't here, he just leaves work at eight o'clock."
After reading his message, I called Kyle about five times to take me there, but he didn't answer the damn calls.
So, I sent him a message that I was going to meet Miles at his house.
Luckily for me, Miles had the brilliant idea of bringing my car to my parents' house.
Apart from having to leave because I didn't want to have my brothers wishing to talk to me about
what happened, I wanted to say goodbye to Miles.
I went as fast as I could to get to his house, and when I got there, Patrick's car was not parked in the usual place, which is a good sign.
I walked into that house like I had never even left, walked through every room downstairs and saw no one, but as Miles leaves, he's likely to be in the bedroom.
I climbed the stairs, and when I reached the upstairs corridor, I approached his bedroom door; "Miles, are you there?" I asked, knocking. And even getting no answer, I stood there for a few seconds waiting.
As I turned to leave, I heard behind me the back door opening.
"Miles is not here," Patrick's voice echoed inside my head.
My head began to spin, I started to feel breathlessness, and my vision went blurred. I was unable to move, unable to walk away from there.
His footsteps approached me slowly, and I held everything inside me.
"Clark," he told me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"Let go of me you fucking prick," I told him through my teeth.
"No, Clark, you have to listen to me," He told me aggressively. This time Patrick spared no effort and grabbing me tightly turned my whole body so that my eyes touched his.
He grabbed me by the arms and threw me against the wall, making me unable to move.
"No, Patrick, let go of me immediately!" I begged him, but he didn't seem to hear me.
The smell of alcohol coming from his mouth seeps into my nostrils, and besides being drunk, he must also be drugged. His eyes were red as hell.
"I really love you, I love you, I didn't know what I was doing please forgive me,"
"No, you never loved me, I was just your ticket out of this shitty life you have," I yell at him.
Without delay, Patrick lost his head, and I felt the weight of his hand against my face.
Oh my god, this prick just hit me? I couldn't believe he did that to me.
Seconds later, I felt my face bubbling, I felt the hot snap of his actions.
Rocking backward, Patrick let go of me trying to figure out what he had done.
I took that moment to get out and at least get into my car.