Chapter 31 #2
The thing about dares is that I’ve never been known to back down from one.
Gavin would have known that about me if he’d actually taken the time to know me.
If I were a more loyal sister, I might have felt inclined to continue covering for Gavin.
Then again, why should I when he’s never been loyal to me?
So I tell Mom and Dad everything. About USC, about Callie.
I even tell them about Gavin’s culinary pursuits.
By the time I’m finished, they appear to be more devastated than when Mr. Ahn told us we lost everything.
“What about college and Sonya?” As usual, Dad fixates on the things that matter to him. “How will you be successful without those things?”
Blood boils in my veins. “Are you serious right now?” Not only is Dad not focusing on the bigger issue of Gavin’s deceit, but I take particular offense to his bold claim.
“There isn’t just one way to be successful, and if you could open your narrow mind just a tiny bit, you’d see that I’m proof of it.
I mean, the only reason why we’re able to afford these secondhand, weatherworn, off-the-rack things is because of my success. ”
Mom and Dad wince with the familiar repulsed expression. It sends me over the edge.
“Is my influencer lifestyle so beneath you that it’s impossible to acknowledge what it’s done for us? If it weren’t for my party money, we’d be even worse off.”
“Elena,” Mom says, “we’re not ashamed of you.
We’re ashamed of ourselves.” She looks to Dad, who confirms it.
“We’re supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.
You’re still in high school, and Gavin is in college.
” When a pained expression crosses her face, I feel instant remorse over my misunderstanding.
That is, until Mom continues. “And this is how you treat us? Gavin, how could you be so dishonest?” Then she turns to me. “How could you keep this from us?”
“That’s rich coming from you, Mom,” I say, the fire in my pit reigniting.
If I’m going to be accused of having shortcomings, then everyone else is fair game.
“When was the last time you were honest with Dad about what you wanted?” I turn to Gavin.
“Or told Dad how you felt about his toxic masculinity?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
But it’s too late. Like regular diarrhea, the verbal kind can’t go back in once it’s out.
Mom and Gavin are too concerned with Dad’s reaction to be mad at me for airing their grievances along with mine.
The color drains from Dad’s face. Too stunned to hold himself up, he slumps down onto a kitchen chair.
“Is that how you think of me?” He glances up at Mom. Then, a second later, he turns to Gavin. “Is that why you couldn’t tell me the truth?”
Gavin lets out a frustrated sigh and takes a seat facing Dad across the kitchen table.
“Elena’s right,” Gavin says, but his hardened face tells me he’s merely stating a fact.
“It’s like you have so many good qualities, Dad, and you’ve been able to accomplish so much.
But because that strategy worked for you, you think success looks the same for everyone. ”
Mom and I are frozen. Dad rubs his forehead in disbelief. “Gavin, if you felt that way, why didn’t you tell me?”
Gavin sighs, resting his arms on his knees and leaning on them.
He looks up at Dad in an almost childlike manner, struggling to find the courage to say what’s on his mind.
“I didn’t want to let you down.” His voice cracks, and he quickly clears his throat before continuing.
“I could tell you wanted it so badly for me. So I tried. For you. Only I couldn’t keep up with it.
You have these unrealistic expectations of me. Of all of us.”
“Is that true?” Dad looks at me and Mom.
I’m pretty sure I’ve said enough, so I shrug, but Mom doesn’t meet his gaze, which is enough to answer his question.
He sighs almost devastatingly. “I raised you the way I was raised. On the farm, men were taught to be strong and provide for the family. Women maintained the children and the house. I didn’t think anything was wrong with that.
Our family seemed happy. Like a team.” He turns to Mom.
“It seemed to work when we first came to LA. Right, Gloria?” He desperately searches her face for an answer.
“It did,” Mom agrees. “Until it didn’t. When the business started taking off and you left me behind, we were no longer a team.
” He deflates at her words. “But it’s not too late to learn from our mistakes,” she says, reassuring him that what she’s about to say next is coming from a place of love.
“We learned on the farm which crops couldn’t grow, but more importantly we learned which crops thrived.
If you don’t learn from the past, then you’ll never reach the level of success you’re looking for.
Because that type of success doesn’t exist.”
Although I feel guilty about the way this conversation started, I’m not sorry it happened. We’ve felt this way about Dad for a while, and if we want to get through this, we can’t keep trying to act like a family. It’s time we start being one.
“I used to think that’s what we wanted. A thriving business to buy nice things—a big house, the best schools, the finest foods money could buy.
I wanted our kids to have a better life, an easier one than the one we lived.
” Dad stands up from the chair with great effort, as if the heaviness from the conversation is weighing him down.
Slowly, he walks over to the family photo leaning against the kitchen wall.
He stares at it for a long time. The intense expression on his face tells me that he’s looking beyond the surface of the photo.
Dad always said he cared about us, but to me, actions spoke louder than words.
Being a workaholic made it seem like he was more interested in money and success than in his own family.
But now his actions are making me see that I was wrong.
He wasn’t just doing it for show; he really does care about us.
“It seems that this business has done more to tear us apart than keep us together.” Dad shakes his head.
“We wanted so much for them that we tried to do it for them. Now they need to live their own lives, just like we did ours.” Mom puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder.
Dad reaches to put his hand on hers and looks at her. “You’re right,” he says. The smile on his face seems forced, but his words feel genuine.
“I shouldn’t have spoken for you.” My eyes flick between Mom and Gavin.
“No, Elena. You shouldn’t have,” Mom says flatly.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She doesn’t say anything. Instead she nods with her lips pressed in a line, acknowledging my apology. Which is more than I can say for Gavin, who’s too upset to meet my eye, let alone answer me. And maybe I’m still mad at him too.
“Look, Gavin—” I start. But I’m cut off by a loud ruckus outside our front door.
Mom and Dad peer out the window facing the front of the house.
“It’s the press.” Dad abruptly moves back from the window.
Mom ducks behind the curtain. “How did they find us?”
“What are they doing here, Elena?” Gavin’s head whips over to me.
The three of them stare at me in an all-too-familiar way.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. But it doesn’t stop the uneasy feeling rising from the pit of my stomach.