Caroline
“I have never been more embarrassed in my life than by the stunt you pulled today!”
My father paces behind the large desk in his office, his face thunderous. Janet, the housekeeper, found me as soon as I walked through the door and told me my father wanted to see me in his office. I barely sat down before he started his lecture.
“No one in this family has ever seen the inside of a police station and you were there for hours because you were feeling rebellious,” he scoffs. “Tonight is the most important night for us, and you chose today of all days to lose your mind.”
His steps are silent on the Persian rug under our feet.
When my mother was redecorating, she told the interior designer she wanted my father’s office to look like A Very Important Man worked in here, emphasis on man.
The walls are covered in dark walnut paneling, the furniture is all leather and wood.
It smells like cigars and leather in here, all the time.
It’s the only room in the house my brother and I were never allowed to enter, unless we were in trouble. You don’t get into more trouble than stabbing your fiancé in the ass.
“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen if this gets out and people find out? How are you going to sit across from your clients when they’re worried about you being emotional and volatile?”
I’m surprised this is the line he’s taking because the night he told me I was going to work at Sinclair they’re only a few years older than me.
“I met him when I was in New York last month,” the taller one says. She’s wearing a black gown that hugs her body perfectly. Diamonds sparkle on her neck and ears.
“Oh my god! I thought he was a total recluse,” her shorter friend replies. She’s wearing a sparkly gown that my mother would call gauche. “How does he look?”
“Still as hot and gorgeous as ever,” the tall one replies. “Still acting like we’re not good enough for him.”
“He hasn’t been here in years and they still gossip about him.”
I flush, looking away from the duo to the woman who’s appeared beside me. Kind blue eyes stare up at me from a face lined with wrinkles and I suddenly feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. My eyes brim with tears that I blink away.
“Gerry,” I whisper.
“Oh, dear girl,” Geraldine sighs. “What have they done to you?”
I lean forward, hugging Beckett’s grandmother. Her grip around me is still as tight as it used to be when I was a kid. My own grandparents didn’t tolerate emotions or physical affection beyond a perfunctory kiss on the cheek in greeting. Geraldine is the grandmother every kid deserves.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, pulling away from her. “This whole day has been a mess.”
“That’s saying it lightly,” Gerry says with a chuckle. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. My idiot grandson on the other hand…”
She trails off, looking towards where Beckett is standing with my mother. My mother looks so proud, beaming at Beckett every so often, like she’s about to marry him.
The whole thing makes me sick.
“Everyone keeps telling me to accept it and move on,” I whisper.
Gerry looks back at me with a discerning graze. “And are you going to?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
There’s a part of me which wants to leave it all and choose myself.
But choosing myself is not something I’ve ever been good at and I wouldn’t know where to start.
The other part keeps reminding me that all I have ever wanted is my parents' love and affection. I’ve already made myself so small for them, another thing I do for them shouldn’t matter.
“There are some things in life you can’t move on from,” Gerry says. “The longer you hold onto the pain, the more it hurts rather than heal. Darling, if you hold onto broken glass because it’s what someone expects, you’re only hurting yourself.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I say without thinking.
“Then leave.” Geraldine shrugs lightly. The diamond studs in her ears catch the light and sparkle. There’s a ruby and diamond brooch over her left breast that she always wears because it was gifted to her by her husband.
I can’t imagine loving someone so much I never take off the gift they gave me.
“It’s not that easy,” I say. Gerry can probably see the reluctance on my face because she pats my arm.
“It doesn’t have to be hard.”
“Where will I even go?” I ask, slightly panicked. The good kind of panic, like I can actually leave it all behind and not think twice.
“Anywhere in the world,” Gerry says. “London, Paris.” Her eyes meet mine and hold. “New York.”
I inhale sharply at her implication. I can’t go to New York. I’ve been humiliated enough.
“Think about it. You have the key to the apartment.” She walks off into the crowd, disappearing like a fairy godmother.
When I turned twenty-one, Gerry gave me an apartment in New York.
“In case you ever want to run away,” she’d said.
I’ve hung onto the key, at times forgetting it and other times gripping it in my hand like a lifeline.
I watch my family with Beckett, laughing and chatting like he didn’t humiliate me and hurt me.
They’re complete without me. Maybe it’s time for me to be courageous enough to find the thing which completes me.