Chapter 17 #2
Luna extended the phone and just like that, reality crashed in as if a rom-com director yelled Plot twist! in the middle of the movie and switched to a psychological thriller.
Athena half expected dramatic music to rise in the background, perhaps something like “The Imperial March.” How did her father constantly intrude on the most critical moments of her life?
Athena’s stomach dropped. Benjamin must have learned she quit the tour.
She stood, ready to face her father’s wrath, to weather the storm of disappointment and manipulation she knew lay ahead.
Sucking in a deep breath, she held out a palm for Luna to pass her the phone.
Years of conditioning kicked in. Spine straight, chin up, game face on.
It was the same routine she’d followed before every tournament, every interview, but this time, it felt hollow.
“Wait,” Calista said, her eyes blazing with a protective fury that Athena had never seen before. “Before you talk to him, you need to know something.”
The steel in her sister’s voice gave Athena pause.
“What is it? I need to assert my independence. Maybe throw in a few choice words that definitely weren’t in the Dempsey Family Approved Vocabulary.”
Calista shook her head and looked deadly serious. “Athena, listen to me. Our father is most likely a malignant narcissist. According to my therapist, his behavior ticks off all nine traits needed for a diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder.”
“Huh?”
“I know you’ve rarely experienced his dark triad as the golden child, but he’ll deny his destructive behavior, attack you for bringing it up, and then he’ll make himself out to be the victim.
He’ll turn everything around on you, and no matter what you say or do, you’ll only get ensnared deeper in his trap.
Trust me, I’ve been there. It’s not pretty. ”
Athena’s mind reeled. Not engaging with her father? The idea seemed impossible. He was Benjamin Dempsey. He got what he wanted. Always. Telling him no was about as likely as getting a hole in one on a par five.
Her world tilted. Everything she thought she knew about her family, about her father, was called into question.
It was like discovering the golf course she’d been playing on for years was actually a minefield, but then again, hadn’t she just taken the first step in breaking free from his influence?
Wasn’t that what canceling the tour was all about?
Luna hovered, looking uncertain.
“I . . . I don’t know if I can ignore his call,” Athena said, hating how small her voice sounded. Where was Athena Dempsey, golf prodigy and media darling now? “And besides, I can’t just leave Luna to deal with him. It’s not fair. He’ll probably threaten to sue her or something equally dramatic.”
Luna’s face softened. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle Benjamin. My own father had emotional problems, and I get how complicated that kind of relationship is. Let me do this for you. You’ve made a big step today, and you deserve some peace.”
Athena looked from Luna to Vivian to Calista to Reid, seeing nothing but support and encouragement in their faces. It was so different from the expectations and judgment she was used to.
So terrifyingly different.
Athena squared her shoulders and nodded. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. Luna, would you mind . . . ?”
“Consider it done.” Luna turned to leave. “Enjoy your hot chocolate and cookies.”
Athena did it. She refused to engage with her father’s coercive control. It was a small step, maybe, but it felt like winning Chevron. She looked to Calista. “So, what now? Start a support group for recovering golf prodigies?”
The question hung in the air, half joking, half serious. Because really, what did one do after upending their entire life?
Calista grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, I was thinking maybe plan a heist to steal all Dad’s trophies and melt them down into a giant middle finger sculpture. You know, normal sister bonding stuff.”
For a moment, Athena imagined it—her and Calista, partners in cookie-fueled crime, giving a big metallic screw you to their past. It was ridiculous. It was juvenile. It was absolutely perfect.
The mental image was so absurd, so utterly at odds with the curated world she’d lived in for so long, Athena couldn’t help but laugh. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her, years of repressed emotion finding release.
“Count me in,” Athena said, feeling lighter than she had in years. “But fair warning, my lock-picking skills are rusty. Turns out, country clubs frown on breaking and entering. Who knew?”
“Do you think interpretive dance will help work through trauma?” Vivian giggled. “That might be a healthier alternative to trophy heists.”
The idea of herself—stoic, serious Athena Dempsey—doing interpretive dance was so absurd it set off another round of laughter. It felt good to be silly, to let go of the weight she carried for so long.
“Why not start now?” Vivian said and went to the controls of the sound system piped through the store. She fiddled around and soon the store filled with the music of Sara Bareilles, “Brave.”
The first notes of the song filled the air, carrying with them a sense of possibility and hope. It was cheesy, sure, but maybe that’s what Athena needed right now.
Vivian came back and held out a hand to Athena. “May I have this dance?”
Reid hopped up and bowed toward Calista as Vivian and Athena bopped around the store. Grinning, Calista let Reid pull her up from her seat.
And for those precious few minutes, life was absolutely beautiful.