Chapter 1 #2
I don’t know why I thought it’d be any different. It’s always the same with them. They don’t care about what I want. All they are concerned about is that I make them look good. I can’t believe that it took getting kicked out of law school for me to finally see it.
I shrug her hand away and take a step back, feeling emboldened to finally stand up for myself. I can’t believe I’ve listened to them all this time, thinking they had my best interest in mind.
“No. I’m not going to apologize for anything because I didn’t do anything wrong.
Jimmy should feel embarrassed. Imagine how humiliated I am right now?
This is all his fault, and I’m not going to bow down this time.
” I let out a deep breath and slowly take another step back, my pulse racing as I gauge their reaction.
My parents don’t even try to hide their shocked expressions as they stare back at me like they don’t even recognize me anymore.
And honestly, I can’t blame them; I’m just as shocked as they are. In all my twenty-five years, not once have I ever stood up to them and stuck up for myself.
I turn to leave, slowly making my way to the door. I’m not even sure where I’m going, but I feel like we all need a little space to process the events of the day. I’ll give them a chance to cool off and then, hopefully, we can talk about this rationally.
But I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of my mother’s voice.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Before I can answer, my father clears his throat, then says, “Whatever this rebellious act is needs to stop…because you are going to marry Jimmy. Do I make myself clear?”
My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I look at my mother to see if I heard him right. But she doesn’t even flinch, just stares back at me with a stone cold look on her face.
I take another step back and scoff. “No, I’m not. I meant what I said today. I can’t marry someone who’d betray me like that… And why would you want me to?”
“The decision has already been made. This is not up for debate,” my father snaps back.
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling my blood boiling with a whole new level of rage. “No. I’m. Not. And you can’t make me.” I may sound like a stubborn five-year-old, but I don’t care. Maybe if he hears himself, he’ll realize how unhinged he sounds right now.
He takes a step forward. Then another.
The look he gives me is cold and controlled; it’s nothing short of terrifying, and I have to will my feet not to move.
“Are you sure about that? Because I think we both know exactly how this ends.”
He’s threatening me now?
I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat, and meet his gaze like my whole body isn’t trembling in fear. “I won’t do it. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but this is my life…and I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
“You’re done?” My father mimics my words, scoffing a laugh as he shares a look with my mother.
If there was ever a moment to backtrack, this is it, but I find myself strangely feeling braver than I ever have. At this point, what more do I have to lose?
I make my way toward the door, but I stop in my tracks at the sound of my father’s cruel tone. “Give me your keys.”
I glance behind me to see him holding out his palm as he tries to mask his shock with anger. “The keys, Scout. Give me your keys,” he says again, voice clipped, his patience fraying at the edges.
With an exaggerated sigh, I fish the lone key from my back pocket and press it into his palm. “Happy?”
“Oh, thrilled,” he snaps. “Nothing delights me more than watching my only child throw her life away.”
The look he gives me is nothing short of disgust, and for a split second, I find myself wondering where it all went wrong. How has my seemingly happy life managed to change so quickly?
I take a step through the door, pausing just long enough to glance back over my shoulder—hoping, stupidly, that they’ll stop me. That they’ll say something, or apologize…
But they don’t move.
Their faces are locked in those same tight scowls, and that’s when I feel it. Somewhere deep inside, something shifts. Like glass breaking. And I know my life will never be the same…
It’s only when I hear the door slam, punctuating their words like a nail in a coffin, that I realize the pain feels oddly like relief.
I breathe in the fresh air, filling my lungs for what feels like the first time as I start my trek back into town.
I have no idea what I’m going to do next, but I guess I’m about to find out.
A rush of cool air and the mouthwatering scent of cheeseburgers hits me the second I push open the door, washing over me in sweet relief.
My feet are screaming, each step of that three-mile trek to the bus station still echoing through my bones, and I’ve never been so happy to be inside air conditioning.
After leaving my parents’ house, I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do next, so I followed my hunger pangs, which led me here.
At Restaurant—yes, that’s its actual name. Luckily, it’s easy to avoid confusion, considering it’s the only restaurant in town.
Let’s just say the founders of this small town weren’t exactly the most creative when it came to naming local businesses. Everything is named for exactly what it is, and there’s no place in the world quite like my quirky hometown of Ashford Falls.
I let my eyes scan the open dining room, noting all the tiny details that’ve been added over the past five years.
Much like the town itself, this place has managed to maintain its historic charm while still managing to feel updated and improved.
It’s one of the things I love most about this town.
It’s full of charm, full of history. No one’s trying to erase the past and start fresh like I’m used to seeing in bigger cities.
Because they don’t see their history as something to be ashamed of, despite the real pain and devastation that was once present here.
Instead, they value the stories these buildings hold and all the memories tied to them.
It’s like seeing someone for who they truly are and loving them because of their imperfections, not despite them.
What must that feel like?
I feel my throat begin to tighten with emotion, my eyes slowly filling up with tears. How pathetic can I be, feeling jealous of a building?
“We’re closing early this evening, so we don’t currently have a waitlist, but you’re welcome to take a seat at the bar,” the friendly young hostess says, pulling me out of my emotional spiral.
I make a quick attempt to wipe the unshed tears from my eyes, suddenly remembering why I came in here to begin with. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even see her approach.
My stomach takes that moment to let out a ravenous growl, and my eyes follow to where she’s gesturing at the last empty seat at the bar.
I force a smile, feeling my heart rate begin to race. “The bar is perfect. Thank you.” My hand clenches around the handle of my suitcase as I roll it behind me, feeling the curious stares of everyone I pass.
It’s not every day the hometown girl who’s been gone for nearly a decade without even saying goodbye, comes back with a suitcase and her tail between her legs. I can only hope the word of why I’m back isn’t what they’re whispering about.
I perch myself up on the tall barstool, using my oversized menu as a shield as I try to calm myself down. It’s not exactly convenient that my emotions are so visible on my skin.
“What can I get you to drink, hun?” A raspy female voice asks from behind my menu, and I feel my shoulders sag in relief that she doesn’t know who I am.
“Can I get a Cherry Coke? With extra cherries if you’ve got them. And I’m ready to order my food if that’s okay?” I tell her my order, and she scribbles it down, then disappears to refill a drink on the other end of the bar.
I’m grateful for the loud music and dim lighting as I do my best to look and act nonchalant despite feeling like I’m sitting underneath a spotlight. I find myself fidgeting, tugging at the stiff fabric of my pants, and feeling completely out of place.
It’s not that I’m overdressed per se, there are plenty of people in here who have obviously come straight from work. It feels more like I’m wearing a costume.
Don’t be ridiculous, Scout. No one here is judging you…or even thinking about you. You’re not that special.
As if on cue, the friendly bartender appears, sliding my fruity, nonalcoholic drink down in front of me. “One Cherry Coke with extra cherries. Let me know if you want a shot of whiskey to add to that,” she says with a wink.
I slide my favorite nostalgic drink toward me before taking a long gulp. The ice-cold bubbles burn, coating my throat in the sweet syrup on the way down, and I already feel so much better.
Okay…so what? I like what I like, sue me. Besides, after the day I’ve had, I could use all the comfort I can get.
Thirty minutes later, I’m sipping on my second Cherry Coke, mindlessly doodling on the damp bar napkin, when a server slides a burger in front of me. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of the cheeseburger—another indulgence for me tonight, and I don’t hesitate before diving in.
The savory flavors explode over my taste buds and I let out a not-so-polite moan, not even waiting until I’ve completely swallowed the bite in my mouth before taking another one.
Damn, it feels good to be home.
Maybe it’s the comfort food, or the feeling of blending into the bustling, dimly lit restaurant that makes me feel like I’m alone but not lonely , but I’m starting to feel better.
I still don’t know what my next steps will be, and I hate knowing how angry my parents are with me after our fight. Still, I’m cautiously optimistic that things will sort themselves out…eventually.
We all just need to take a little time to cool down. My parents will come to their senses and realize how ridiculous they’re being by expecting me to go through with the wedding. They just need a little time to process.