11. Vaughan
CHAPTER 11
VAUGHAN
M y parents weren’t bad people, but they were overachievers. They always needed the best of the best and wouldn’t settle for anything less, especially when it came to their only son. My parents had to have nice things. They lived in a big house in a high-end, gated community when it was only the two of them.
They were VIP members at the country club.
They bought new cars every year.
We went on expensive vacations.
The whole nine yards.
To me, they were just keeping up with the Joneses. Everything had to be about them and the latest gossip. It really was like living in a movie with nothing but rich people who smiled all the time in the creepiest way possible and tried to outdo every friend they had in their social circle.
They didn’t own our things; our things owned them.
At the end of the day, I knew they wanted what was best for me. Not thinking that maybe I already knew what that was. They were suffocating me, and they didn’t even realize it.
In their eyes, everything was the way it was supposed to be. It was normal for them to act like they did, and I was the outlier for looking at them like they were crazy half the time. I played by their rules because I had no fucking choice but to be a part of their world. I understood I was crying rich-boy tears, but at the same time, pain was pain, and there was so much of it that I was smothered.
All my life, I felt like my parents tried to mold me into something I wasn’t. Something they wanted me to be. I never felt accepted or good enough, and that killed me the most. That ate away at me, piece by piece. Day after day.
At the end of the day…
I needed to make myself happy. Life was too short, you only lived once, and all that other Hallmark bullshit.
I wanted to make the best of it.
For the first time in my life, I was almost done with college, and I just hoped they loved me enough to let me come into my own. Whether that be part of their trust fund agreement or not. If I wanted them to accept me for who I was or who I wanted to be, I guess I should start by giving them a chance.
“Vaughan, there you are, honey. I was about to call you and see where you were. Dinner’s almost ready. Will you help me set the table?”
I nodded, helping her. I tried to have dinner at the house I grew up in a few times a month. The truth was, I was avoiding the pain in the ass who slept and lived in the room next to me. She still hadn’t realized that I had snuck into her bedroom after she had been asleep the other night when I forced her to have dinner with me. The little shit didn’t talk to me the entire meal and then slammed her bedroom door in my face when I wanted to call her out on it.
That was three days ago, and we hadn’t spoken since. I borrowed her planner, wrote down all the names and numbers of the students she was tutoring, and reimbursed them all their money. She needed to focus on her classes and not worry about someone else’s.
I knew she hated taking money from her fosters, which was why she was tutoring everyone and their mother. Now, I was her only student, and I planned to keep it that way. It was a war I knew better not to start, but fighting with her was always one of my favorite things. I liked the way she fought back, and I liked everything about her sexy-as-fuck mouth.
It always led to us making up.
We sat down shortly after for dinner, and I waited until my dad asked me his usual dinnertime questions.
“How is school?”
“Fine.”
“How’s the tutoring?”
“Fine.” God, could this be over already?
“I heard you’re getting tutored by that foster kid from the Hamptons.” He smirked and stared down at his plate. “Kind of like a Cinderella story, huh? She gets adopted and suddenly has the world at her fingertips, yet you’re getting tutored by her.”
Of course, he kept tabs on me.
My jaw clenched. “Her name is Tru.”
“She was always such a lovely girl. It’s hard to believe she was ever an orphan.” I thought he was trying to be nice, but it hit wrong, and I wanted to punch him for it.
My mom took a sip of her wine. “Vaughan could do better. He needs someone on his level.”
“I know, honey, but she was still lovely, don’t you think?”
I scoffed. “You guys do realize I’m sitting here, right?” They always did this, talking about me like I wasn’t in the damn room. “Can’t you wait until I at least leave to talk shit about people who are important to me?”
“Vaughan,” Mom coaxed in that voice she used when talking politics or trying to calm someone down. “We don’t mean it like that. We just want what’s best for you.”
“Are you for real?”I snapped.
“Vaughan, watch your tone,” Dad ordered.
Mom smiled, and Dad shook his head. Now was as good a time as any. I mean, it was already going to hell at this point anyway.
“About college,” I said, wiping my mouth with my napkin, bringing their attention back to me. “I’m able to understand the material thanks to her.”
They beamed.
“Once you get your grades up, you need to start applying to graduate schools.” Dad nodded. “It’s what we’ve always done. Everyone in this family has at least a master's, and while we’re proud of your football journey, it’s important to have an education to fall back on.”
I could have literally quoted exactly what he just said since he’d been shoving it down my throat since I was eight.
“I’m not sure I want to go to graduate school,” I confessed.
Both of their faces were void of any emotion. As expected, I shocked them, but the masks were still there, the same ones they wore for their friends. They simply stared while buying time to convince me to make a different choice. Their own son.
Fuck. The amount of time I actually tolerated this should be awarded. I hated it. There wasn’t any warmth, nothing.
I waited.
“Where is this coming from?” Dad asked, folding his hands in front of his face like he was trying to be sympathetic when I knew it was all for show. Look innocent, look submissive, try to be empathetic . Fuck that.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve mentioned this.” I leaned back and crossed my arms.
Their faces were the blank canvas I was used to, but I still couldn’t read them at all. They were either pissed or in “fix” mode.
“Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Dad exclaimed too calmly, in fact.
I shrugged like it didn’t matter, like they didn’t matter, like my future didn’t matter.
I wanted to say it was because he never listened to me.
“You’re going to graduate school, Vaughan. End of discussion,” he snapped, locking eyes with me like all it took was him to use a lower octave, and I’d bend over and say thank you.
“Here, I thought it was the beginning.”
“I don’t need to see any more of this garbage, son. Is this why you’re an average student?”
“Dad, it’s not?—”
He put his finger up in the air, silencing me. I swallowed hard.
“Money on tutors. Money on after-school help. Not to mention, the money to even get you into Harvard.We’ve spent tens of thousands of dollars to get you the best education, and this is how you repay us?”
“Mark…”
He put his hand out in front of my mother, silencing her as well.
“If you don’t go to graduate school, how will you afford your lifestyle?” Wow, my lifestyle. Wow, just wow.
How did they still not understand me? “I don’t need your money. I want to pursue football.”
“You can do that while continuing a good education.”
“Or I can do that in place of it.”
He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head like I was the crazy one.
“This is my future. This is what I want to do with my life,” I argued through gritted teeth. My anger began to take over me in a way that was so aggressive I was ready to throw the chair I sat in.
Dad leaned forward. “To become what, Vaughan?”
“A professional football player,” I deadpanned.
“And if that doesn’t work out?” His cruel smile made me want to punch something. I was talented. He knew it, and he bragged about it, but at the end of the day, he wanted me to be him.
End of story.
“Thanks for your confidence in me.”
They were killing my soul, crushing my dreams without even batting an eye. I immediately resented them for trying to mold me to their liking, not mine.
“I’ve never asked you for anything. This is important to me. This is what I want for my future.” I was beating a dead horse, but I kept doing it. I was suffering, and they were thriving, building me into what they wanted.
“This conversation ends now. I’ve said my piece. End of story.” I stood.
They weren’t taking this away from me.
Not now.
Not ever.
I had never disrespected my parents, but at that moment, I wanted to do exactly that. I wanted to fight and have my opinion heard, and for the first time in my life, I realized that my life wasn’t actually mine—it was theirs.
“And here I thought you would support me.”
Dad shook his head, disappointed. “Support you? You need to have a backup plan. Do you think I’ve gotten this far in life without one? Unbelievable. How about you show your mother and me some respect? For everything we’ve done for you?”
I scoffed. “I didn’t know that respect was earned off attending a graduate program. That’s a lot to ask of a college and another degree. Don’t you think?”
“Vaughan…” Mom warned.
I laughed. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I follow your rules or else. You remind me daily. I should have it memorized by now.” Like a Bible verse.
Dad instantly stood and was over to me in two strides. Right in my face, he grabbed my T-shirt in his fist. I was used to Dad’s aggressiveness. He never hit me or raised a hand, but his voice? It was always raised when I was a disappointment. I was nothing if I wasn’t helping the family name.
“Listen to me.” He gripped my collar. “We give you everything, everything, and you’re trying to shit all over it. All the connections I’ve made for you. All the money I’ve spent on you being at the right place at the right time. I have done nothing but try to think about your future!”
He just confirmed what I always knew. I was a fuckup in their eyes. Not worthy enough to be their son. All I ever wanted was for them to accept me for who I was and welcome me with open arms.
I wondered what it would be like to just pretend to pass out at the dinner table to embarrass them and be done with everything. Was this why people hurt themselves? To hurt others? I shook my head as he kept hold of the collar of my shirt. The grass wasn’t always greener on the other side. No, it sometimes suffocated you despite looking so pretty. On the outside, everything I had was perfect, but on the inside, I was slowly suffocating.
This was exactly why I spent my life hiding behind football. It was the only way I felt like they would love me. I knew… I knew they wouldn’t accept me. Except I never thought it would hurt this goddamn much for them to confirm what I already knew in the core of my being.
“Wow…” I stepped back out of his grasp. Hands surrendered, head shaking. I didn’t even know what to say. I wondered what Tru would have said at that moment. She always stood up for herself. She was always fierce, and I was silent. I didn’t realize I was thinking about her and only her until my dad kept staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
I could see it in his eyes right away when I didn’t speak. He wanted to apologize and take back his hateful words, but that wasn’t my father. He remained the solid man he always was. Breathing heavy with flared nostrils and a look of pity on his face.
I backed away from the situation before I said something I regretted.
“Run along, Son. Which one of your girls or parties am I paying for tonight? Huh?” he yelled as I stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
I couldn’t believe this, tearing into my insecurities. I wasn’t expecting that.
I didn’t bother to look back.
It was pointless.
The damage was done.
I hated myself for letting down my guard and allowing them to see the truths I hid so well for many years that it became second nature.
I wanted to hit something.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to run away.
I wanted to make this fucking feeling go away. I’d give anything to bring back my not-giving-a-fuck attitude that I had gotten so used to. Seeking comfort in myself.
All I ever had was that.
I owned it.
Now that was torn away from me.
I roughly raked my fingers through my hair. My anger and nerves were set on fire. My body was scorching hot, my adrenaline pumping so hard that all I could see was red, and all I could feel was blue. I wanted to claw out of my skin for being so fucking stupid. I desperately tried to work off this emotional bullshit. Before I knew it, I was at the gym, taking my frustrations out on the bags and weights instead.
Hit after hit.
Lift after lift
But it didn’t matter because I could still see my reflection in the mirror, and it was one of pure pain, reminding me yet again that I was always lacking and would never be enough.
This was what I was good at. What I excelled at. Where I thrived. This was what I was meant to do with my life.
With or without their consent.