Chapter 1 #2
“No?” I smile sweetly, and my mother tries to talk, but dad lifts a hand, keeping her silent. “It must be the other way around, then. The awful man you are at your company bleeds into your personal life.”
I take another sip of wine while we enter a staring contest. I’ve seen the worst my father can do.
Nothing in this life can surprise me anymore.
He truly is a monster, and I will never forgive him for the horrors he makes me take part of.
We all have blood on our hands in this family.
He makes sure of that so no one can ever escape.
We’re all guilty in our own way, so we all shut up.
“Ella.” His business tone tells me something I don’t like is coming. “I’m glad you spoke up to defend your opinion.” I put my glass back on the table so he can’t see it shaking and bring my hands to my lap. “It brings me to my next order of business for the night.”
“Gerald,” my mother complains. “You promised you wouldn’t bring this up at dinner.”
“Bring what up?” The words slip past my numb lips. I lick the wine off them, cold sweat pearling at my lower back.
My father’s cold smile tells me he doesn’t care what he promised my mom. “You’re changing your major.”
“What?” I gasp.
“Gerald,” she pleads. “Please, not now.”
“What do you mean I’m changing my major? You can’t just—”
“Believe me, I can.”
Dance is everything to me. Ballet and contemporary are what allow me to breathe and survive, but any sport that includes the least bit of choreography works for me.
“Dad, you can’t just take me out of the SFU Dance Division. I’ve been taking multiple basic minors like you asked. My schedule is overloaded. This is what I’m good at.”
“If you were that good, I’m sure Juilliard would have loved to have you. The Joly’s daughter got in. I don’t remember you ever receiving an acceptance letter.”
His words take the breath out of me. Emily Joly is from Stoneview too, she was a few years above me at school, and my dad would never stop comparing us.
She was better than me, probably still is, and since my father is against me pursuing a career in dance, he would make sure to remind me how poor I was at it compared to her.
But I never gave up. No matter what he put in my way, I always found a way to keep dancing. And now he’s trying to take that away from me.
“I was on the waitlist,” I rasp. “You’re the one who made me give up my place to accept my spot at SFU.”
“If you wanted Juilliard so bad, you wouldn’t have given up on the waitlist. You’re going to major in political sciences.”
“I don’t understand.” My wide eyes go from my mom to Luke, and back to my dad. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s the best major to prepare you for taking the LSAT.”
There’s a pause during which the grandfather clock in our wide entrance hall can be heard. That and my frantic breathing.
Somehow my hands have ended up on either side of my plate, and my father notices when they curl into tight fists.
“I don’t want to go to law school,” I whisper.
“For someone so opinionated and who always jumps to the occasion to debate with me, I’m surprised by your answer. Bakers’ Café legal team is extremely welcoming, Ella. Once you graduate law school, there will be a place for you there.”
This is my worst nightmare unfolding before my eyes.
“You’re punishing me for standing up to you. You can’t do that. I don’t want to be a lawyer, and even less to work in your company. That’s not fair.”
“Look at your smart deductions. You really will be a great attorney.”
“Dad, please.”
“I’m trying to save your future. If you keep trying for a career in dance, you will end up crawling back to me because of your failures and dire need for money.
You will end up working for my company then.
Except I won’t be so kind. You can work with the cleaners, like the other people who made terrible life decisions. ”
“The way you talk about people who are less fortunate than you is disgusting,” I hiss.
“Your desire to come to their defense really tells me I’ve made the right choice for your studies.”
My eyes narrow on him as he cuts a piece of turkey, stabs his fork into a roasted potato, and drags the mix to the cranberry sauce on his plate. He smiles at me before taking a mouthful of his fork.
“I’m not leaving the dance division.” My stern voice doesn’t bother him. He chews slowly, swallows, and takes a sip of his red wine.
“Ella, darling,” he chuckles. “It’s already done. I spoke to the dean. It’ll take effect when you go back after Christmas break.”
A cold hand wraps its fingers around my stomach, squeezing until I can’t breathe from the pain.
I hate when I lose my strength around him. My watery eyes go to Luke. “Do something.”
He pinches his lips before he answers me guiltily. “You can still dance. It just won’t be your major.”
He’s taking our dad’s side. Which only means one thing.
“Did you know?” I rasp.
His apologetic stare and unbearable silence make everything worse.
“El’s—”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, standing up so quickly my heavy chair falls to the floor. “I hate you,” I tell my dad. “You’ve officially done it. You’ve ruined my fucking life.”
“Language,” my mother gasps.
I down my wine, slamming the glass on the table so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break.
“Ella, sweetheart,” she calls as I exit the room.
“Leave her,” is the last thing I hear from my dad. I can imagine him waving a lazy hand in the air to show this is just some little girl’s tantrum and not my life-long dream he just crushed.