Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning was thankfully quiet.
While my family slept in, Robert and I woke up and got ready for the day.
We moved the couch back to the living room, and I went into my wardrobe to dress for work. I picked out a suit-skirt set. Both the blazer and pencil skirt were made of a thick, dark purple, almost navy material. With it, I wore a white blouse and a pair of simple closed-toe pumps. While I loved to buy pretty clothes for myself, I always dressed more plainly for the office. Clients were less likely to take you seriously if they thought you looked too girly.
After pulling my hair into a ponytail, I applied some light makeup. Robert was in the kitchen by the time I was done, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast lingering in the air. He had his back to me while he fixed us both a cup of coffee, wearing a pair of jeans and a black-and-gray flannel shirt over a white t-shirt.
He always looked so good. Everything would be so much simpler if he wasn’t so disastrously handsome.
“Morning. Did you sleep well?” I asked, stepping up to his side.
Robert nodded, but I noticed he had slight dark circles under his eyes. Maybe he’d had trouble falling asleep on the couch. Or maybe it had been uncomfortable for him to sleep in the same room as me.
“I buttered some toast, but I pulled the jam out in case you wanted that too.”
“Thank you,” I said, helping myself to a slice. “Are you looking forward to work?”
He nodded. “It’s tough some days, but rewarding. I like my coworkers. Some of them don’t say much, but they’re all hard workers.” He bumped his shoulder against mine. “What about you? How are you upholding justice today?”
I chuckled. “I don’t know about ‘upholding justice,’” I said. “It’ll be another day defending one company from another company. Or,” I said, with a sheepish look, “protecting one corporation or another from the clutches of the government.”
“Hey, what’s with that face? It’s still pretty cool.”
I laughed self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I love my work, but I know that at the end of the day, I’m making rich people even richer.” I glanced down the hallway where the spare bedrooms were located, my family sleeping behind the closed doors. “My family definitely judges me because I’m not working tirelessly in human rights.”
I still remember my first year of law school. There’d been so many students, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to make a positive difference in the world. Some wanted to do environmental law. Others, the children of immigrants, wanted to do immigration law. Then, of course, were those who wanted to protect freedom of speech or the right to education.
I watched as one by one, all of those students were swept away by job offers from big corporate law firms, promising high salaries, career progression opportunities, and endless benefits.
At least I never had any illusions about what I wanted. From the start, I was aiming for the highest salary I could get. It made me sound materialistic and selfish, but all I ever wanted was financial freedom.
Now, Robert shook his head, scrunching his face up like what I said was ridiculous. “Come on. It’s not like your family is out on the streets helping others, are they?” His hand brushed mine, and his expression turned serious. “You’re a good person, Brooke. Better than me, anyway.”
My breath caught, and I parted my lips to ask what he meant. But before I could say anything, he abruptly let go and checked the time. “I better get going. Can’t be late. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, watching him rush out of the apartment.
After the front door closed, I poured my coffee into a travel mug, grabbed a piece of toast with a napkin, and headed out of the apartment. After how tense yesterday was, it was a good idea for everyone to have a little space from each other today.
Once I got to the office, I threw myself into my work, grateful for the distraction. It meant I didn’t have to think about my family or Robert.
Now and then, I’d look up from my computer screen to the view through my windows. Towering skyscrapers looked back at me, steel and silver, with thousands of reflective mirrors. Down below, streets crisscrossed, and people walked on the sidewalks, so tiny they looked like pushpins.
My whole life, I’d worked for this view. I was valedictorian of my high school, and I won a scholarship for college. I spent countless hours studying. Even for Ashcroft, I did mock interview after mock interview to make sure I nailed the real deal.
I worked for everything. Every dollar in my bank account. Every nice thing in my home. I’d got what I wanted: financial freedom. But it still wasn’t enough.
I didn’t need more money. But as I grew more successful, my family grew more distant, and I realized just how lonely I was. Sure, I had my friends, but they were busy with work, like I was. Now that Alison was with Cameron, she had even less time for her friends, which I completely understood.
I did try to date for a while, but I never found anyone who truly got me. Maybe it’s because everyone in my network came from affluent families and played golf with their fathers on Sundays. No one related to my upbringing, and they didn’t understand my strained relationship with my family.
I didn’t want our relationship to be strained.
Was it my fault? Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. I had been irritable yesterday. When I returned home, I’d be more patient. I’d try to repair things — to be a good daughter and sister.
My optimistic attitude lasted throughout the rest of the workday, and as I headed back home after work, I had a pep in my step. Maybe we could all watch a movie tonight? Maybe something from my childhood. Brandon had always loved Aladdin . We would laugh all together and —
My thoughts were interrupted by muffled voices inside my apartment. I unlocked the door, a bright greeting on my tongue.
That’s when I saw the state of my home.
Shoes were scattered all over the foyer like they had been kicked off aimlessly. Dirty dishes and empty beer bottles were littered across the kitchen counter. My throw pillows were on the floor, and one of my framed paintings had been knocked, so it was hanging unevenly. How had that happened?
Dad was lounging in one of the armchairs, watching a baseball game on the TV. “Get me another beer, will you?” he yelled to Brandon.
Brandon almost crashed into me as he walked to the kitchen. “Oh, hey.”
Before I could ask him what the hell happened to my apartment, he breezed past me and dug around in my fridge. From what I could see, everything was out of order on the shelves like they had been rummaging through it.
“This lotion is nice.”
I turned to see Mom walking out of my bedroom, her hands moving together to rub my expensive lotion into her skin. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the sight of her wearing one of my silk Saint Laurent blouses.
“That’s my shirt,” I told her as I gestured to it.
“I needed a shirt,” my mother replied as she adjusted the sleeves.
Before I could reply, my eyes caught sight of a scratch on the coffee table’s leg. “What happened here?” I asked.
My father waved his hand at me when I tried to bend down and inspect the wooden leg. “I can’t see the TV.”
With narrowed eyes, I stepped to the side, only to face Gemma, who had a few of my handbags in her grasp.
“Brooke,” she said in a too-sweet voice. “You have such nice bags!”
“Did you go through my closet without asking?” I asked.
“We were just exploring the apartment. It’s so nice,” she replied with a starry look in her eyes. “I want to live in a high-rise apartment like this!”
“Can I have my bags back?” I asked her, trying not to get snippy.
“You have so many of them! Like, a lot of them. Think you could part with just one of them and let me have it?”
“What?” I asked, making sure I was hearing her right.
“I never get to have anything nice,” she said with an exaggerated pout.
“Can you just let her have one, Brooke?” Brandon asked from the doorway to the kitchen, giving me a tired look.
“When’s Robert coming back?” Dad asked me. “He’s making dinner, right? I’m starving.”
“You’ve got barely any food in the fridge,” Brandon said. “We ate the snacks in the pantry. Hope that’s okay.”
My eyes swept around me, taking in the damage. The trash. The things of mine that they helped themselves to without asking.
They didn’t care about my space. They didn’t care about me or my feelings. They only cared about themselves.
“I want you to give me all of my things back,” I told Mom and Gemma in a firm voice, my skin starting to burn hot.
“You have more things than you can even count. You can’t part with a few things for your family?” Mom asked, placing a hand on her hip.
“No,” I said in a sharp voice. “I’m more than happy to buy gifts for you on special occasions, but you can’t take things from my bedroom like it’s your own personal department store!” I motioned for Gemma to hand over my bags.
Gemma tightened her grip on the straps instead. “Can I please just have the Chanel one?”
“I’m sure you can get another one,” Brandon said to me.
My father sighed loudly as he waved his hand at us. “Pipe down! I’m trying to watch the game!”
All of their voices rang in my ears, making every muscle in my body tense up to the point that I came apart at the seams.
“I need all of you out,” I snapped, my anger spilling over.
Mom stared at me. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I turned around to make eye contact with the four of them. “I let you into my home, and you trash my place and go through my things. I can’t do this anymore.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll pay for a five-star hotel for all of you to stay in, but I need you out of my apartment. Right now.”
Dad hauled himself to his feet, his eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”
All of them were glaring at me like I was the unreasonable one.
“Deadly,” I said.
Soon my family was yelling, their voices so loud, I barely heard the front door open and shut.
“I don’t understand how you’ve become so selfish! We shouldn’t have to beg for help from our own daughter!” Mom screeched at me.
“I would help out more if you actually used the money for things you need, not want! Need!” I argued back, my throat growing sore from raising my voice so much.
“We asked for money for the plumbing, and you stiffed us! Look what happened!” Dad said.
Mom pointed a finger at me. “This all could’ve been avoided if you cared about your family more than what’s in your bank account.”
Immediately, I felt ashamed. Hot tears stung my eyes as my family crowded around me with accusatory expressions. “I don’t …”
“What’s going on in here?” Robert’s voice cut through the shouts.
I turned around to see he was standing behind me, his arms crossed. A mixture of relief and horror flooded me. I was glad he was back — I wanted someone to mediate this mess — but also, I didn’t want him to witness me getting into a fight with my family.
“She’s kicking us out for no reason!” Gemma tattled on me like she was a child.
“You wrecked my apartment! You’re acting like my things are yours,” I defended myself as my tears threatened to spill over. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t let Robert see me like this.
“It’s obvious you don’t give a shit about your family!” Dad bit out as he moved even closer to me. I could smell the beer on his breath.
“Alright, let’s just all calm down,” Robert said in an even voice, stepping between my father and me. His voice was measured, but firm. “I’m sure we can all settle this if we start talking instead of yelling.”
“This isn’t even your business,” Brandon told Robert. “Who even are you?”
“Some homeless man,” Gemma sneered.
“Don’t speak to him like that,” I snapped at her. After everything they had pulled on me, they didn’t get to insult Robert under my roof too. “He kindly offered you and Brandon his room.”
“That makes it worse!” Gemma said. “You let some random man stay with you, but not your own family?”
All I wanted to do was crumple up and cry. I kept my composure, though, and forced my words out. “Just go. Send me the hotel bill.”
My father shook his head at me. He looked so disappointed, and for one second, I wanted to take it all back. “You heard her,” he said, turning to the rest of my family. “Now we see where her priorities lie.”
“I can’t believe my daughter grew up to be so selfish,” Mom muttered. It felt like she’d reached into my ribcage and squeezed my heart into a pulp.
Robert took a step forward. “Brooke generously invited you to her home,” he said. “But even I can see that you have respect for her space or possessions.” He looked around the messy apartment. “You don’t have any respect for her.”
“Who asked for your opinion?” Brandon demanded. “This is a family matter. It’s none of your business.”
Robert placed a hand on my shoulder. “She’s my friend,” he replied. “It’s my business when people insult her in her own home.”
I saw Brandon draw a breath, ready to argue. I didn’t want to hear it.
“Just go,” I said, my voice almost a plea. “Choose what ever hotel you want. Just go.”
Finally, my family started to walk away and pack their things. I heard Brandon and Gemma mutter to each other, and Dad shook his head at me, and it all hurt like a needle through skin.
It felt like an eternity, but eventually they left. As soon as the front door slammed behind them, I fell onto the couch, feeling like all my energy had been sucked out of my body, and burst into tears.