Chapter 48 Lily
FORTY-EIGHT
LILY
I’m convinced my life is a joke.
The day that I was born, a curse must have been placed upon me to feel this immense type of lows and hardly any highs.
It’s like I’m stuck in the middle of a storm in the ocean. I’m being pulled into the shore, and oxygen relieves my lungs, but then I’m thrown back into the dark depths, and my air is cut short.
I pace back and forth, making myself almost fall to the floor from dizziness. The room tilts. Someone grasps my arm and pulls me down on the bed.
“Call Fay and Elijah after.” Trinity’s close, sitting right beside me, holding me in her arms, but her voice sounds so far away. Like I’m underwater and she’s talking to me above the shore.
Am I drowning?
Maybe this is all a dream.
Confidential
Dear Ms. Papas,
I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to formally inform you that your teaching contract will not proceed for this upcoming academic year.
This decision follows a thorough review and multiple discussions with district leadership over recent content associated with your online presence.
The nature of this very public content raises concerns and goes against the ethical standards expected from our educators.
Every staff member of our school is held to a high standard, both in and out of the classroom.
While we acknowledge that private lives exist outside of school hours, actions that publicly compromise the integrity or reputation of our institution cannot be overlooked.
This outcome is not one I take lightly. The material in question has unfortunately undermined the trust placed in you as an educator.
Thank you for your understanding, and I wish you all the best.
Thumbs going crazy, I send an SOS message to Elijah, but my phone is ripped away from my fingers a second later. Grasping the empty air, my fingernails dig half-moons in my palms. This pain feels good; at least I’m controlling it.
My head continues to angle downward as Fay’s voice rings out.
“Oh my goodness, what is happening?!” she rushes out, frantic footsteps coming closer and closer until I can see the toes of her expensive red leather heels. “Why is she crying? Is she shaking?”
“Yes. She just got some very upsetting news.” Trinity’s thumb lazily brushes my back. “Her phone is lying on the bed. If you grab it, you’ll understand why.”
The bed dips, and not a moment later do I hear a small gasp leave her throat.
“What bitches. How could they do this to you? All of this because of some silly rumors?”
Trinity scoffs, “She’s been yanked in mud and rolled around for months now, yet no one has decided to speak out and help her. This is the consequence of people with voices not speaking out.”
“Nothing ever disappears on the internet, Trinity. Even if I did pay all these people to keep their mouths shut, it wouldn’t have led to another outcome.”
How does she know that? If I had enough strength in me, I would ask that question.
From the moment that both my parents died, I’ve felt the world’s weight on my shoulders. Not stopping for a single second, I’ve worked to become someone they would have been proud of. A daughter who keeps their memory alive by affording the home they built from the dirt up.
I’ve gotten everything I’ve prayed for, only for it to be ripped away from me. The pressure on my shoulders seems much heavier than before.
Fingers to my temples, I grasp and push. Hoping to halt all thoughts to my brain.
I can’t do this.
I say through a sob, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I need space.”
“I don’t think leaving you alone right now is a good idea. I would feel more comfortable with staying until Elijah gets here,” Trinity says too sweetly. A kindness that I don’t deserve.
I always reject people from my life because I feel like I’m not worthy of love. Yet all she wants is to be a friend and support me through my downs.
She puts a cheek on top of my head, and it’s hard not to fall into her embrace.
“It feels overwhelming at this moment, but one day, this is just going to be a distant memory. I promise you that.”
She tries to radiate positivity, acting like this isn’t the end of the world, but I’m not following the same path as her.
Not at all.
“Where the hell is she?” His panic-struck voice rings out from somewhere in this expensive-as-hell hotel. “Someone, please—”
Cuddled up in bed with the covers clutched under my chin, I don’t have to look at the door when it creaks open. I can just feel him. I don’t move an inch under his intense stare. In a flash, he’s kneeling beside the bed.
He cups my cheek, face torn. “Baby, are you okay? They’re telling me you’re upset, but not why.” Elijah’s voice is soft, like he’s afraid he might break me with it.
Elijah Drakos is an empath. I’m scared to tell him because he’ll blame himself for this. Nothing more needs to be placed on his shoulders. At least not because of me.
“That job I had lined up for next school year isn’t happening anymore,” I say hoarsely, watching his face fall.
“They fired you?” he asks, shocked.
I nod, placing my hands under my pillow and fisting them. “I got an email while you were at the gala.”
Mouth dropped open, he stammers, “What could possibly be their reasoning? They didn’t even give you a chance to work one day to see your work ethic.”
Back facing the large windows, I’m pretending the world outside doesn’t exist because the universe feels too big for me right now. My pillow is damp. I don’t understand how there’s enough fluids in me to continue crying. How am I not running out of water?
“They had to let me go based on my unprofessional online presence,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “I get it; who would want a rumored groupie teaching little kids in school? It is unprofessional and goes against school rules. Why would they treat me any differently from the next person?”
He exhales slowly. “But you’re not a groupie. If people actually take the time and do research, there is no evidence of you—for God’s sake, this is part of the lawsuit!”
He complies without a complaint when my fingers grasp his arm and drag him into bed, suit and all. I shift as close to him as possible, resting my cheek on his chest. His shirt smells like the cologne he always wears. Comforting. Familiar.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He runs his hand through my hair, and I melt.
“Of course, Sweet Cheeks.”
It’s crazy how much I relax at his touch.
“When we have a kid, would you feel comfortable seeing online rumors about their teacher being a groupie? Wouldn’t that tarnish their reputation in your head?” I mumble in the expensive fabric.
Muscles tensing, he grasps the back of my neck tight. “No—”
“You are lying. Any good parent would find this concerning,” I interrupt strongly. “It would bother me, Elijah!”
“Our children are going to be homeschooled by their mother—aka you,” he demands, refusing to admit the truth.
I jolt up, facing him. “But for shits and giggles, let’s pretend they attend a school. As a parent, would a groupie teacher bother you?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, only looks up at me from where I was just lying down. “I’d be a little worried. Do you think I can change their minds if I call them and explain that you’re my girlfriend?”
I wish that could permanently vanish all trace of me on the internet. All the gossip sites, posts, comments of me would still be up. Social media is permanent. It’s alarming what this could possibly mean for my career.
“Search up my name.” I hand him my phone.
“No, I won’t do that, Lily. We promised nothing good comes from that.” When he crosses his arms, his veins in his biceps look like mini rivers.
“We can’t run away from this anymore! Bad things are already starting to happen,” I exclaim, getting my phone back and typing my name.
Sitting up, he tries prying the device out of my hand, but I dodge him.
Scrolling down a bunch of websites, I face the screen toward Elijah. “Do you see this? Can this all go away by admitting we’re a couple?”
His face crumples, looking distraught.
My voice cracks. “This is my new normal. If I run, it will always find me.”
“This is all my fault.” He looks past me, seeming to be in another world.
Here we go. The empath in him is coming out.
Crawling to his side, I lie on top of him like a koala.
“Don’t you dare blame this on yourself, Elijah Drakos.
Other people’s actions and words cannot be controlled.
I wouldn’t go back and change anything. I would still choose us over any job in the world.
” Smelling his neck and nestling into his warmth, I mumble against his skin, “I have no regrets. It’s going to be okay. ”
“You’d still have this job if mine didn’t involve the media. I let you be seen with me. What was I thinking, even letting them point a camera lens at you? I didn’t say anything sooner. Shutting down the rumors could have helped! So, yes, this is all my fucking fault.”
Sitting up and still straddling his body, I grasp his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.
“You’d better listen to me. Yes, this sucks.
But you are not Jesus. You couldn’t have done anything better than you already have.
You’ve told me yourself that you can’t control what people say about you online.
I truly couldn’t have done this without you.
No, I know I would have quit a long time ago. ”
“I brought you into this world, knowing the consequences. If I loved you, I should have never done that.”
I touch his chest, finding his heartbeat under my palm. “Feel how fast your heart is racing.”
“I can hear it in my ears,” he says quietly, scared to admit he’s just a human, feeling human emotions.
“That shows, more than any words you could ever declare, that you love me.” Fisting his dress shirt, grasping tight like he might vanish, I beg that my words settle in his head.
“I’m sorry. I promised myself I’d never hurt you again.”
It kills me to see big tears streaming down his structured cheekbones. Heartbreak is written on his face like a language he’s all too familiar with.
“This is all my fault.” Broken and shaky, he wipes his tears away with the back of his hand.
Ashamed, he growls deeply under his breath. I’m frustrated when more tears stream down his face. I catch his hand in mine before he can wipe away his own tears, and my lips find the salty drops.
“Don’t fight your emotions. Let your mind rest and let go.”
He crumbles under my body, shaking with each sob that bursts deeply from his chest. Clinging to me like the world is tilting, fists bunch the back of my sleeping shirt. He’s shaking so much that I’m afraid he’s going to break.
Is this a panic attack?
He shakes his head, which is smooshed in my chest when I try to pull away to look at him. Can he even breathe? I have never dealt with someone who has panic attacks. How do I know if he needs help?
So, I sit there, straddling his legs. With one hand, I slowly and steadily run it up and down his back, attempting to ground him, comfort him, do something to stop his tremors, while his cries sound raw and distraught.
“I’m so sorry, Lily,” he chokes out, tears soaking through my shirt.
He doesn’t flinch when I pull him impossibly closer, not wanting any space between us, no matter how small.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” I say into his luscious hair.
For the first time in forever, I see the ugly truth—that the boy who always kissed my paper cuts away, put Band-Aids on my wounds, and tripped when I did so I wouldn’t feel silly alone is a sad man now.
He’s damaged.
Exploited.