Chapter 31
Victoria
It’s late when I get home on Monday after work. There was an issue with setting the alarm so it took nearly an hour to leave the store and it’s almost eleven when I walk in. To my surprise, my mother is still up, watching TV and sipping a cup of tea. She looks tired and a little stressed.
“Hi, Mom. Why are you awake?”
She gives me a faint smile. “Couldn’t sleep. You know how it is with perimenopause and all.”
“Is it bad?” I sink down on the couch. “Is something going on?”
“Well, there’s a lot going on. With you. With Ivy and Charlie. With your dad.”
“I’m sorry you’re stressed and it’s impacting your health.”
She lifts one shoulder. “Stress is part of life. As is this menopause nonsense. I’ll have to see my doctor at some point.”
“Ivy and I are fine. You shouldn’t be stressed because of us.”
“I’m stressed because your father is stressed. And now his blood pressure is out of control, but he refuses to go to the doctor.”
“Why not?”
“You know how he is.”
“High blood pressure is dangerous.”
“I know. He thinks he’ll manage it with exercise.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s almost fifty. His body is changing. What worked ten years ago may not work now.”
“I know. But a lot is changing all at once and he’s not good with change.”
I sigh. “What’s changing? Are you talking about me?”
“You’re graduating, thinking about getting a real job. You’re dating Jordan again, which is a thorn in your father’s side. On top of that, Ivy is getting her real estate license. Charlie’s starting preschool. He doesn’t like any of it.”
“But he can’t expect us to just hide away at home forever, can he?” I ask in confusion. “He doesn’t want Ivy and me to get married? Have careers and families? All the normal things that adults do.”
“He’s old school, Victoria. You know that. He wants you to find a nice, church-going boy who’ll court you for a long time, ask your dad for your hand, do everything the right way.”
“Dad doesn’t even go to church!” I protest. “Why would he want me to marry someone who does?”
“Honey, I know you’re chomping at the bit for your freedom, but could you just slow down a little? Take your time. You don’t know whether or not Jordan really loves you or if—”
“Oh, not you too,” I groan in frustration. “It’s been four years. We’ve grown up. Changed. We had a long time to think about whether or not we loved each other and wanted to be together again. How much longer does he think we need?”
“I don’t know but with his blood pressure this high, and him as stubborn as he is, do you really want to stress him out unnecessarily? Have him stroke out so you can be with your boyfriend?”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. “Mom, this is exhausting. I’m just trying to live my life. I don’t want to stress anyone out. Why can’t you accept that I’m an adult?”
“I do. Your dad just needs more time. Get through graduation. Let Ivy finish real estate school. If you’ve waited four years, what’s a few more months?
Please, honey—could you think about your dad?
He’s sacrificed a lot over the years to give us a good life.
Can’t you and Jordan just keep things the way they are for a while?
I’m sure by next year your dad will be used to the idea of him being around and start to mellow. ”
“A year?” I blink at her. “Mom, we’ve already been apart for four. With Dad’s rules and curfews, I barely see him now. That won’t get better once I have a full-time job.”
“What’s the hurry? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know. Is it really too much to ask for a year so your father has time to adjust?”
My temple has already started to throb and I swallow back a hundred different frustrated retorts.
A year is a really long time.
The plan has always been to get a job and establish myself, so I wouldn’t be completely dependent on Jordan, but it’s a ridiculous amount of time for us to live under my father’s strict rules. No sleepovers. Curfews. A constant battle for acceptance.
I don’t know how I can ask it of him, but I also don’t want to be responsible for my dad having a heart attack or something.
I know it’s manipulative and ridiculous but there has to be some middle ground.
Maybe a few months instead of a year. Once Jordan gets through hockey season he’ll have more time and we can work on my dad together.
Right?
“I’m going to bed,” I say quietly. “I had a long day and need to get some sleep.”
“All right, honey. Get some rest. Just think about what I said, okay?”
“I will. Good night, Mom.”
I trudge up to my room and throw myself on the bed.
The last thing I want to do is wait a year before…what? Moving in with Jordan? Getting engaged? I don’t even know what that timeline means. Is there anything that’s going to make my father truly accept him and what will be different in three months, six months, or even a year?
He’s always struggled with his blood pressure, but I assumed he was under a doctor’s care or taking medication for it. I didn’t realize he was stubborn about that too.
Anxiety winds its way through my psyche, and I stare at the ceiling for a long time, my chest tight and my stomach in knots.
I don’t want to lose Jordan but I don’t want to blow up my relationship with my parents either.
Ivy and I put them through a lot when we were younger.
My pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage followed almost immediately by Ivy’s pregnancy and her boyfriend’s disappearance.
My parents handled everything so she could have the baby and still graduate from high school.
None of it has been easy, but we’re a family and we all pitched in.
Now we’re past all that so it seems unfair that Dad is still imposing such oppressive and controlling rules. It’s his house, but he has to know I could move out. Or maybe that’s what he wants—for me to discover that Jordan doesn’t really want me.
I’m so damn confused.
I reach for my phone and try to figure out who I can talk to. I’m friendly with both Chloe and Juliet, and have their numbers, but I don’t know if I can vent to either of them about this.
Merrill won’t be helpful because she already thinks my dad is overbearing and ridiculous. She believes I should have moved out at eighteen, even if it meant delaying going to college.
It’s a little embarrassing to realize how few friends I have.
Of course, the person I should be talking to about all of this is Jordan.
But he’s out of town and focusing on hockey. Besides, he thinks my dad is over-the-top too.
There isn’t a single unbiased person in my life, and it’s kind of depressing.
My phone buzzes and I smile at Jordan’s name on the screen.
JORDAN: Hey, beautiful. How was your day?
It’s like he knew I needed him.
VICTORIA: It was very long and then the store alarm wouldn’t set. It was a whole thing. But I’m home now. Going to bed in a few.
JORDAN: Okay. I just wanted to say hi and tell you I love you.
VICTORIA: You should call me when you say that.
My phone rings a second later, and I smile as I answer.
“That was fast.”
“I love you.” His voice is rich and warm and some of the day’s stress melts away.
“The sound of your voice when you say that never gets old,” I whisper gruffly.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Did you have a good day?”
“You know how travel days are.”
“How many minutes until you get home?”
“Uh…hang on.” He’s quiet for a few seconds. “2880.”
I laugh. “You did the math?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You’re awesome.”
“By the way, I booked your flight to New York. It’s the same one Chloe and the other ladies are on. It’s a first-class seat with priority boarding and a three-bag baggage allowance. In case you want to do some shopping.”
Anxiety immediately rears its ugly head, making my chest tight all over again.
There’s no way my dad is going to let me go to New York with him. Even if it’s Spring Break and I’m not paying for it.
“The ladies want to do a spa day on Saturday since we’ll have a morning skate and stuff anyway, so I booked that for you too. Is there anything else you want me to take care of? Hana said she wants to treat you to the Empire State Building.”
“Jordan.” My voice is almost a whimper and I battle my desire to go with the guilt I can’t seem to shake off every time I think of my dad’s blood pressure.
How can I tell Jordan I can’t go anymore?
How can I not?
Unfortunately, he mistakes my silence for appreciation or some other wonderful emotion that I should be feeling.
“Don’t worry—it’s all taken care of. You don’t have to decide everything now. It’s going to be a blast. And I have a few surprises for you too. I can’t wait for this trip, baby.”
Surprises.
A first-class ticket.
Fun with him and the other ladies, whom I desperately want to get to know better.
I hate myself right now.
And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.