Chapter 33
Victoria
The last time I cried this hard was when I had my miscarriage.
I managed to hold it in at work, buried in inventory and the company of my co-workers since most of the crew had to come in to help. But now that I’m home, standing under a piping hot shower, the tears fall unchecked.
It’s my own fault, I know that, but I don’t know what to do.
He didn’t frame it as an ultimatum, but that’s essentially what it was, and I waffle between heartbreak and anger.
Is it really too much to ask for him to wait just a little longer?
It’s been four years, I understand that, but everything is complicated with my family.
And for the first time, I have to ask myself why.
When Ivy got pregnant and her boyfriend disappeared, my parents swooped in and took charge.
They told her they’d help her take care of the baby until she graduated, and even then, they’d babysit so she could work.
They offered me up as a part-time babysitter as well, without even asking me, but I did it happily.
She’s my sister.
Ironically, I didn’t get that kind of grace when I was the one in trouble.
Dad growled and yelled and threatened to destroy Jordan’s life.
Then they effectively cut me off from him completely.
At the time, I was too traumatized to fight back.
Now I’m strong enough but I seem to be falling into a similar pattern where I default to what they want. What they think is best.
And now I’m really, really confused.
Heartbroken.
Sad.
Even a little scared.
I can’t imagine my life without Jordan.
The world feels empty now, as if nothing else matters. I didn’t realize how empty my life was before Jordan came back into it, and now that he’s gone again, that emptiness feels soul-crushing. Like nothing will ever be right again.
It never occurred to me he would actually end things if I didn’t go to New York. I’m not stupid, I know there’s more to it than that, but this feels like it came out of nowhere. Or maybe not. He’s been pushing me to stand up for myself, to fight for him and for myself, and I’ve just refused.
I get out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel.
Then I sit on the edge of the bed and stare off at nothing.
I’m physically exhausted but my brain is working overtime.
My soul feels heavy, like it’s shouldering the weight of the world, and I can’t think of a single reason to get out of bed tomorrow morning.
It’s Spring Break so I don’t have school and I was supposed to be leaving for New York on Wednesday.
I have to be at work at noon and for the first time, I can’t muster up any excitement to go even though I love my job.
Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, I put on deodorant, pull a T-shirt over my head and crawl under the covers. With the lights out and the rest of the house quiet, I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life.
And I really fucking hate it.
I itch to reach out to Jordan, ask him if we can talk, what I can do to make this up to him but it would just result in a stalemate. There’s no easy fix for what’s broken between us—well, what’s broken with me—so there’s no point in making it harder than it already is.
Am I the broken one?
I’m beginning to think so.
He’s done nothing but love me.
Yet here we are.
Just like last time.
I blamed him for not coming for me, for not fighting my father, but now I see that even if there hadn’t been lies and miscommunication, it still would have been a losing battle for him. He couldn’t fight for me because I wasn’t ready to fight at his side.
And it seems like we’ve come full circle with that.
* * *
I toss and turn all night, and by morning I feel sick to my stomach. Making my way to the bathroom, I stand over the toilet wondering if everything I ate yesterday is going to come up but the feeling passes. I splash cold water on my face, put my hair in a ponytail and brush my teeth.
I can hear my parents in the kitchen with Charlie, laughing as they make waffles from scratch, one of Charlie’s favorite things. Funny how happy they are with him but the sky is always falling when it comes to me.
Pausing outside the kitchen, I listen for a moment.
My father plays peek-a-boo with Charlie while Mom makes the waffles.
Dad teaching Charlie to pour his own juice.
Mom asking him how many pieces he wants his waffle cut into.
Just a sweet family moment.
Until I join them.
“Good morning,” I say quietly, leaning over to put a soft kiss on the top of Charlie’s head.
Dad grunts in my direction while Mom motions to the table. “There’s plenty of waffles,” she says.
“My stomach hurts,” I lie. “I just want some coffee.”
“You look like you didn’t sleep,” she says, glancing at me. “Are you all right?”
“It was a long day yesterday,” I say with a shrug. “How are you feeling, Dad?”
“Right as rain.” He nods.
Something sour twists in my gut.
I cancelled the trip of a lifetime, hurt Jordan’s feelings, and he’s feeling great? What the fuck.
I make my coffee, put in some cream and sugar, and take a sip.
Ugh. I can’t decide if I want to cry or throw up.
“Auntie Victoria, you want?” Charlie proffers a forkful of waffle, syrup dripping everywhere.
“No, sweetie, you eat it. I’m good.” I sit next to him, absently mopping up the trail of syrup with a napkin.
“We going to play soccer today?” Dad asks Charlie.
“Yay!” Charlie lifts his arms in the air, still holding the fork and sending syrup flying.
“Charlie, be careful,” I admonish gently, prying the fork from his sticky fingers. I get up, grab a wet rag, and wipe up yet another mess.
“You should eat,” Mom says, putting a plate in front of me.
“I’ll have one,” I say, reaching for the butter. Then I turn to my dad. “Are you seeing Dr. Cooper this week?”
He grunts again. “Nah. I’m fine.”
I look to my mother and she purses her lips. “Rodney, we agreed. Your blood pressure has been extremely high.”
“It was a couple of days when I was stressed. It’s better now. Stop fussing.”
“You promised you would have a physical,” Mom says, trying again. “You promised.”
He rolls his eyes. “Barb, I said I’m fine. Leave it alone.”
My mother turns back to the waffle iron, her posture rigid.
“Dad, why don’t you want to see the doctor?” I push. “Do you want to die and leave Charlie without his grandpa?” Anything to do with Charlie is usually a good way to make him listen.
“I’m fine!” he snaps. “Jesus, living with three nagging women is a pain in my ass. How about you and me go have some boy-only time after breakfast?” He turns his attention to Charlie, who nods happily.
I stuff the waffle in my mouth, get up from the table, and put my dish in the dishwasher with a huff.
“Well, it’s your funeral,” I tell my father before grabbing my coffee and walking out of the kitchen. I hear my parents bickering behind me but I don’t care. I’m going to cry again and definitely don’t want them to see it.
Frustration fills me and it’s hard to identify what I’m feeling beyond the obvious. Of course, I’m hurt and heartbroken that Jordan broke up with me. But it’s the frustration that’s eating me up.
Frustration with my father for being so unyielding about almost everything.
Frustration with my mother for never standing up to him.
Frustration with my sister who relies on me too much when it comes to dealing with our parents.
And then frustration with myself for letting them make me feel bad every time I try to assert any semblance of independence.
I’m an adult.
Yes, I rely on them to a degree but I pay for everything I need outside of food and shelter. I don’t discount those things—I couldn’t afford to live on my own—but they offered. They told me to live at home so I wouldn’t graduate with a lot of student loan debt. It shouldn’t come with restrictions.
Especially not now that I’m about to graduate.
Have they suddenly realized they’re about to lose me and they’re tightening the reins to keep me close for as long as possible?
Or is this about Jordan specifically? It could be a combination of the two, but Ivy is on the verge of moving out as well, and I understand that might be jarring for them.
However, guilting us into staying, and making it difficult for us to spread our wings feels wrong too.
I don’t know what to do or who to turn to.
My friends from school and work don’t understand and my new friends, the ladies I’ve met through Jordan, probably think I’m an idiot.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the door of the bathroom, desperate to come up with a solution.
Getting back together with Jordan seems impossible.
But losing him again is unbearable.
Somehow, I have to fix this.