Chapter 22 #2
“Nope. Not when it comes to a pretty girl like you.” Rohan swaggers off with a little wave.
My adrenaline plummets as I turn to climb the steps, each one feeling a bit higher than the last. My heart aches, my nerves are shot, and I need some time to process what my life has become.
The lobby is filled with visitors, but the curation wing is almost abandoned. Only a few janitors nod as I pass on my way to the tiny office.
“Well, hello there.”
I startle a full foot off the ground.
Brandon’s massive body has taken the desk chair hostage.
“What are you doing here?” I press a palm to my chest, forcing my breathing to regulate. I’m one stiff wind away from the insane asylum.
“Don’t worry, just about done. I found another grant last night, but I needed the files I left on my hard drive.” After a moment, Brandon unplugs the drive and stands.
The man fills out workwear just fine, but I’d be lying if I said his black hoodie and gray joggers didn’t look like they were designed by a devil who wants all womankind to fall for their ex. I force myself not to gawk.
“See something you like?” He quirks that annoying, dimpled grin.
I tuck my flustered hands into the pockets of my overcoat. “Yeah, you leaving.”
He lets out a husky laugh. “Then I’ll get out of here so you can enjoy the view of my backside too.”
My surprised laugh bursts as he joins me in the doorway.
“You are so humble,” I say.
“The most humble,” he agrees, eyes landing on mine.
The persistent ache over wedding dress shopping and terror over H.Y. subsides a bit.
We gaze for a second longer, but Brandon’s grin slowly slides off his face. Concern flickers in his expression.
“You good, Kate?”
My face must give me away, because awareness grows in his.
“I’m fine.” My words come out hoarse as I stride past him, easing off my overcoat and tossing it onto the tetanus chair in the corner. My knee-length fuchsia dress flutters around me, so I smooth it back over my black tights before I sit.
Brandon doesn’t budge from the doorway.
I insert the abandoned SD card into the slot on my computer and try to ignore him while the photos load.
“Kate.”
My name is saturated with nuance, a sentence all on its own. I bite back the stinging in my tear ducts with a firm pinch across my tights.
“I said I’m fine, Brandon.”
Clicking open my editing software, I choose the drippy cave mural of Starved Rock State Park.
Vibrant orange ombres to copper as the cavernous rocks crowd a tiny cerulean waterfall. The juxtaposition of the blurring traffic in front of the mural—thanks to the slow shutter speed I used—and organic matter is beautiful.
I sigh, but it comes out more like a whimper.
A warm hand finds the shoulder of my dress, and I can’t bring myself to shrug it off. I swallow around the lump in my throat, toggling the contrast of the photo.
“That’s beautiful, Kate,” Brandon murmurs over my shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Brandon’s hand disappears, but my peripheral vision catches him settling into the tetanus chair with my overcoat draped over his knees.
“What are you doing?”
He settles his laptop across his legs. “Just realized I forgot to email off the application.”
It takes me forty minutes to realize that it doesn’t take long to send an email, but Brandon sits contentedly in the corner, working away on who knows what.
We don’t speak.
We don’t even acknowledge each other.
But for the remainder of the afternoon, I’m not alone.
PAST
KATE
“I’m not alone,” I whisper to myself. “Not tonight.” I stroll the snow-dusted sidewalk beside the parade route, feeling maybe an ounce more happy than anxious. Because at this Lunar New Year Parade, Brandon will be meeting me.
I twiddle the belt on my red peacoat, the crowd jostling to and fro as I make my way to the corner of Wentworth Avenue. Red paper lanterns sway overhead in the coming night, and I’m filled with such warm appreciation for my heritage.
Childhood memories spark of holding Grandma Chen’s hand, the musty, sweet scent of her hugs, and her wrinkled smile as she’d stuff Liza’s and my pockets full of roasted nuts and candy. My Dad was never very traditional, but Grandma Chen made sure we knew and understood the customs she grew up with.
A few fan dancers scamper by in a blur of red lips and makeup. Their silk costumes disappear around a brick building as I continue walking. Either my left knee has absorbed ten energy drinks, or there’s a jackrabbit trapped behind my kneecap.
I’ve seen Liza plenty over the last three months, but I haven’t seen my parents since the night they kicked me out. I don’t think I’ll ever forget Dad’s harsh words, or my mom’s mottled rage distorting her pretty face.
“How could you be so stupid to throw everything away?”
“Selfish, even after all we’ve done for you.”
“You’re smarter than this, Katherine.”
“Maybe she’s not.”
My palms begin to sweat inside my black gloves. I yank the gloves off, plucking my phone from my pocket to shoot a text to Brandon.
KATE: Low-key freaking out. Can’t wait to see you. Is it too soon to escape on your motorcycle?
The distant drumming of a marching band announces the parade is starting, so I shove my phone back in my pocket and quicken my steps. My intricate braid bounces against my red peacoat, and I trace a hand along the length of it, ensuring it’s still smooth the way Liza taught me when we were kids.
“Kate!” Liza spots me in the crowd, waving like a maniac. She’s wearing a mauve puffy coat and matching earmuffs over her chestnut brown hair. Her cheeks are rosy with excitement. “You came!”
“I did.” I hug her, and it feels like hugging a marshmallow. It’s been a few weeks since I last saw her, and I never want to let go.
“I missed you!” she says. “Where’s Brandon? I cannot wait to meet him!”
I pull back and smile. “He’s on his way.”
A familiar set of glittering eyes meets mine over Liza’s shoulder.
“Hi, Dad,” I say.
His bedside-manner smile seems unsure, but his tone is even as he says, “It’s good to see you, Katherine.”
Mom appears by his shoulder. Her sleek, round bob is a little longer than when I last saw her, and the warm brown strands are freshly dyed. Is that a touch of worry in her amber eyes? They rove over me so quickly, I can’t tell.
“We’re glad you could make it,” Mom says, her smile seeming…genuine? “We’ve missed you.”
She’s still… smiling.
And missed me? Me?
I try to blink away the mirage, but it stays.
“Thanks, guys. I…I’ve missed you too. I was too busy over the holidays to visit; I hope you understand.” The lie is brittle at best, but this is what we Chen's do. Dance around the problem like it isn’t an elephant sitting on my heart.
“Christmas wasn’t the same without you.” Mom nudges my dad with her designer handbag, who nods in agreement. “I hope we never have to do that again.”
My breath of relief clouds in the chilly air.
Sure, this is awkward, but it’s nothing like the hostile artillery I was expecting. They’re making an effort. Something like hope swoops in my stomach.
I hope Brandon gets here soon so he can witness the phenomenon I’m experiencing. Watching the parade beside my amicable parents with the man I’m falling in love with sounds like a straight-up dream.
“Yeah, Christmas was weird for me, too,” I say. “My sorority house was way too quiet because almost everyone else went home.”
What warmth I thought I saw in Mom’s expression vanishes.
“Sorority? Like one of those party houses?” Her frozen mouth is slanted, clinging to what’s left of her smile. “But Elizabeth said you were living in scholarship-funded housing?”
Liza looks guilty as sin for lying on my behalf.
I swoop in. “She’s not wrong. My scholarship does cover part of my room and board at Kappa Alpha Theta. I was lucky that one of their pledges transferred. And the Kappas never throw huge parties.” I don’t know why I’m rambling, since it’s clearly not helping.
“Kappa Alpha…” Mom can’t even finish, she’s so distraught. Her last shred of debutante diplomacy fades as she turns to Dad, who is fixated on the parade. “James, did you know that Katherine is part of a”—she gulps a deep breath—“sorority?”
Dad’s bedside manner smile cracks much faster than Mom’s, the glint in his eyes flashing like a surgical instrument he’d suddenly like to skewer me with.
“Why am I not surprised?” he says flatly. “Why not throw away the rest of your dignity?”
The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking away any fragments of feeling cared for only moments ago. It’s enough to give me whiplash.
Where is Brandon?
“I will not condone you living in a sorority house,” Mom snaps, and I force myself not to shrink beneath her cutting glare. “I’ve said it before, Katherine, and I’ll say it again. Whatever this… escapade is, it’s over. You’ve had your fun, now grow up.”
Angry words continue to spill onto the street, scattered about by a long, dancing dragon. I choose to drill my stinging eyes at it instead of crying. Its bright colors bob, weave, and shake above the people pumping the sticks on its underbelly.
Glitches of my childhood flash in my mind—moments where I felt almost loved like I did less than a minute ago.
The stroke of my mother’s fingers through my hair, utilizing my long black strands as an example to teach Liza her intricate braids.
The curve of my father’s plump cheeks beneath his glasses when he laughed over something at the dinner table, even though Liza made the joke and I was too young to understand it.
Connection was there. I could see it happening all around me.
As I snuggled my stuffed animals at night, I pictured my mother teaching me to braid someday, too. I’d scheme up something funny I could tell Dad at dinner tomorrow night.
But grasping their approval was like clutching at handfuls of smoke. I could see it, smell it, taste it even, but it was never mine. Their firstborn daughter held the flame, and I? The shadow just beyond.
I’ve lived a life of paper cuts. Small micro-moments that have flayed my soul over the years. No one particular event formed a deeper gash than another, but they’re painful all the same.
A tear slips from the corner of my eye in the light of the dragon.
But this tear isn’t meant for me.
It’s meant for that little girl inside, clutching her stuffed animals and wishing on stars. I want nothing more than to take her fiercely in my arms and tell her that there’s nothing wrong with her.
But I can’t.
Because I’m not quite convinced, either.
I’m numb as I turn back to face my parents. Shame stokes a fire in my cheeks. Why keep hoping when they never change?
I withdraw my phone and see that Brandon never responded. I text him again.
KATE: Where are you?
I’m surprised at how vehement the pang of longing is in my chest. Confused at just how badly I need him right now.
Is he okay? Is he safe?
My eyes finally betray me as tears drip hot trails over my cheeks.
Liza tears up, yanking me into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry, too. I thought I could make this work, but I… I can’t,” I say.
She offers a nod full of compassion, but my tears only fall faster. I withdraw my hug and throw my shoulders back.
“Mom, Dad.” I address them each with a stiff nod. “I’m not sticking around if this is how I’m treated. I guess you know where to find me.”
I ignore their gaping mouths and walk away. The crowd blurs, the marching band roars, and I can barely make out a nearby dancing lion. I’m surrounded by people, yet I feel so agonizingly alone.
I call Brandon’s number again and again. The only comfort of his voice comes in the form of his voicemail. And it’s getting old.
I’m suddenly back at my senior art showcase, waiting for my parents to decide they love me enough to show up. If Brandon is entirely safe and truly cared about me, he’d be here right now. Or at least be answering my pitiful texts.
Is he standing me up?
I’m terrified at how badly I need him. The safety of his arms. His stupid jokes and easy laughter to lighten this suffocating pressure on my lungs.
I throw away my pride and text Tucker, his best friend. Surely he’d know if Brandon was hurt?
KATE: Is Brandon with you? He’s supposed to meet me at the parade and I’m worried.
TUCKER: He’s with me.
My stare glazes over with tears.
That’s it? No explanation?
No emergency happening that’s valid enough to stand me up for?
Brandon is fine. He’s not lying in a ditch somewhere. I simply wasn’t high enough on his priority list for him to show up for me.
Are he and Tucker at the raging party their fraternity was throwing tonight?
Is Brandon there, chatting up yet another girl who wears Chanel number five and is stupid enough to fall for his charm?
Bitterness floods my tongue. My breathing becomes sharp, my sobs growing louder.
How stupid could I have been to open myself up to someone like him?
What is so unbelievably wrong with me?
I crumble against a nearby alley and weep into my hands.