Chapter 36 New York 2.0
Isla
I knew for sure now what it felt like to have your heart ripped out of your chest. My breakup with Roman was as painful as all the awful things that had happened to me combined.
I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I only cried and cried until my eyes were raw.
Fuck. Me. I had the worst luck in the world.
To fall in love with a guy who killed my parents?
! Not only that, to know that he was also kind and loving, vulnerable, tender, and caring?
It was undiluted torture of the worst kind.
I couldn’t reconcile the Roman I knew with the version that planned and executed the murder of my family.
I was stuck on his last words—that my dad had blood on his hands. I suffered from that thought, and while I tried to convince myself that Roman was only trying to justify his atrocious actions, I knew that doubt crawled into a small part of my brain.
What if Roman was right? What if my dad used the same tactics as him? Was my dad a killer as well? I didn’t want to believe that.
I couldn’t.
My dad was a soft-spoken and kind gentleman.
Kindness reflected in his eyes, and he always volunteered in our community.
Ander C he was there for all the birthday parties.
I was certain that he and my mom were madly in love.
Their disagreements were rare, and I noticed how he cared for her.
He’d bring her a cup of tea or a glass of wine when she relaxed on the couch with her favorite show.
In the morning, he would always be up before all of us, brewing coffee and making breakfast. He would make my mom a cup of coffee the way she liked it right before she’d come downstairs to the kitchen.
He’d plan a surprise trip for her and her girlfriends, just because.
They spoke kindly to each other, and he never raised his voice at her.
When I got older, I’d often catch them swimming in the pool together late at night, when my brother and I were supposed to be asleep.
They made time to be together, just them, chatting and laughing, and I always thought that all families and couples were like that.
But there was one incident that made Roman's words feel real.
Late one night, I was returning home from dance practice, and like usual, my friend dropped me off.
I walked through the door and kicked off my shoes, but my parents must not have heard me because their strained voices caught my attention immediately.
It sounded like my mom was forcefully trying to convince my father of something.
You can’t bulldoze your way through people’s lives like always. Figure out how to make this one exceptionally clean. It can never be traced back to Anders.
I padded into the kitchen, and their conversation ended abruptly, quickly changing to something random. My mother was dainty and charming, but that voice, that tone, was not something I could ever forget. I’d never heard her speak like that before or after.
I was so curious to find out what they were discussing, but she shut down my questions irrevocably, never bringing the topic or that voice back again. But I never forgot what she said that night, when she thought they were alone.
Bulldozing through someone's life? Exceptionally clean? Trace back to Anders? If my dad was indeed involved in something nefarious, these words now blazed in my mind like a neon sign.
The storm raging inside my soul was dangerous.
I wanted to die. A few times I backed myself into a corner, finding all the reasons why dying would be easier than continuing to live.
Nothing brought me even a smidgeon of joy.
Not the sunshine, not my familiar city, not my friends.
Nothing. No small or big thing could dampen the torturous pain I felt at every second.
My mind was consumed by Roman, the breakup, and the heartache. His image, his words, him—he was always on my mind. I saw him in every person who walked by, and I compared everyone to him. Everyone was awful. Everyone was just a nuisance. I only wanted to see and be near him.
I was very lost. I couldn't pull myself together to apply to jobs, so I mindlessly wandered the city. For hours, I’d sit on benches or random ledges, staring into nothing.
He was gone. It was all over, forever. We would never be together. But every time I told myself that all was lost, a ray of hope illuminated my soul. Maybe I was somehow wrong? I wanted to be with him more than I wanted anything else in my life.
Seven agonizing days after I escaped Los Angeles, I received a phone call from Columbia’s admissions office. They were looking for my confirmation of attendance, since the semester was starting imminently.
"May I defer until next year?" I breathed into the phone, having no energy to speak.
After a long pause, the admissions clerk responded, blunt and unsympathetic.
"That won’t be possible. Your spot for this year was granted as an unprecedented exception, and next year there will be a new dean.
I doubt he will look at your indecisions favorably.
I understand there are extenuating circumstances in your life, but your spot for this year has robbed someone else of the opportunity to attend. "
What another kick in the gut. So if I wanted to go back and finish what I’d started, it had to be this year, and it had to be at Columbia.
"When do I have to pay the tuition by?”
"Anytime before the start of class on September eighth. You can pay all at once, before each semester, or take out a student loan."
Every day, I put it off. But on day five, there was no escaping it—I needed the loan if I didn’t want to flush years of university down the drain. And most unfortunately, there was only one person who would be able to lend me such a huge sum of money on such short notice, with no job.
Heavy dread settled in my chest as I stepped into my ex-boyfriend’s office, about to beg for money.
"Isla! I was so happy to hear from you! How are you?" Thomas walked in the door, blinding me with his smile. Ugh. He was almost giddy that I was here asking for help.
Thomas A. Grant was your classic finance bro, the typical my-dad-will-hear-about-this white boy.
Conventionally handsome and tall, he indeed played golf on the weekends and football with his buddies.
He thrived during happy hour networking events.
The family home in the Hamptons was his summer getaway, and, of course, this year he got a promotion at his father’s private investment firm.
"Hi Tommy. Long time no see. Thanks for meeting with me." I forced a small smile on my face, standing up to give him an obligatory hug. But Thomas held on, way longer than expected.
"How was L.A.? How come you're back?" He grabbed his seat in front of the computer, feigning concern, unable to hold back his smile.
How was L.A.? Life-changing and shattering from the moment I got there until the last minute I was there.
"It was great, but I'm back because Columbia said I can’t defer anymore," I lied with renewed energy, not wanting to reveal any information about my true situation.
We chatted and caught up on life, but I was itching to get out of there. His eyes kept roaming over me, lingering too long, and it was clear he was enjoying this more than he should have. I was beginning to regret coming to him.
"I need a loan for seventy grand, probably for six months. The bank won't give me a credit line for that much." I finally asked him.
He nodded eagerly and began typing away on his keyboard. After a minute of awkward silence, he proposed, "We can provide a loan for seventy thousand with an interest rate of eleven and a half percent.”
I nearly fell off my chair. An almost twelve percent interest rate?! This was robbery!
"Wow. You guys really like to make your money, huh?" I cracked a joke to ease my own tension.
He responded with a condescending smile. "Well. It's a lot of money to loan on such short notice."
Bullshit. This was absolutely nothing to them. They moved literal billions, but they’d never pass up the opportunity to collect every single cent.
Still, I had no choice. I’d pay off this stupid loan as soon as I had access to my parent’s estate and never speak to Thomas again. "Okay. I'll need the money as soon as possible, so…give me the application. I'll sign it and drop it off today before the end of the day."
Ugh. I hated being here.
"Perfect! Why don't we grab drinks later tonight?” Thomas suggested, flashing that revolting and rehearsed smile my way. “Then I can pick up the paperwork. Seal the deal, so to speak.” I forced back a smile, wondering how I’d ever loved him.
A thought hit me—would I ever feel this way about Roman? Would I ever get over it?
I pushed it out of my mind and refocused on Thomas. I needed the money, and a drink wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I’d power through and get this done.
"Sure. Seven? Text me where to meet you."
And as soon as I stepped out of his office, my phone buzzed with his text. Oh God, please don't tell me he was so eager because he thought something would happen between us. We broke up ages ago, and all men repulsed me.
All, except Roman. He was the only one I wanted.
With my application in hand, I met Thomas for drinks at exactly seven, hoping to be out of there in thirty minutes.
He was so chatty, so happy, such a little jokester, and I fucking hated him. My world existed in only gray and black colors, and seeing other people smile made me want to stab them.