Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Jennifer
Dad’s exhale is long and loud, rivaling a balloon losing its air.
He sits on the other side of his large, cherry oak desk in one of his many offices, looking as put-together as ever, wearing a fitted navy-blue suit.
The gray at his temples is new. That or I’m just noticing it now.
But it only adds to the intimidation he usually exudes.
“Your grades have been declining over the past year.”
Eyes lowering, I fixate on my fidgeting fingers and start picking at the already chipped pink nail polish. I know they have. Week by week I’ve been grappling with this steady descent, stuck on a downward slope I can’t seem to get off of, no matter how hard I try.
I’ve been missing classes.
My concentration has been shit. Everything has been shit.
I’m distracted, anxious, and alone ninety percent of the time.
People from my town have spent the past year whispering about me, while classmates at college and even some friends seem to stop speaking when I enter the room.
I’m the girl who was sexually assaulted.
I’m the girl who had something so private become a household cautionary tale.
I’m the damaged goods.
I’ve never felt more lonely and so unseen. At least, unseen for who I am on the inside.
And besides all that, there are the inner struggles that have plagued me over the past year, the things that keep me up at night, causing insomnia.
Dad called me here to one of his Chicago locations on a Saturday, not giving me an option to refuse. I knew he’d eventually bring this up, but even so, I wasn’t prepared for it today.
“I’m aware.”
Another huff. “That’s all you have to say? I shouldn’t have let you choose that ridiculous animal nonsense.”
Heat rises on my cheeks. “A degree in animal sciences is not nonsense. Do you honestly think I’ve just been playing around this whole time?
” I can’t believe that after everything I’ve gone through and everything he’s seen, he still doesn’t understand.
“I’m trying, Dad. I just . . . Working on a business degree instead would not have helped. ”
Dad unbuttons his suit jacket, pressing his elbows onto his desk and clasping his hands under his chin. “I just don’t know what to think.”
I want to yell at him to think about me and what I need.
Rising to his feet, he walks around his desk to stand next to me. A hand on my shoulder is the closest thing to a hug from him, and even though touch now brings on a wave of itchiness that I want to escape from, I find myself leaning into it as he gently squeezes.
How ridiculous it is that all I want to do is turn in my seat and wrap my arms around his middle, burying my face in the warmth of his slightly protruding stomach while crying out a year’s worth of pain.
A hug. That’s all I want from him right now. A soothing hand on my back, telling me that everything will be all right.
But his hand slips from my shoulder, and the moment passes.
My dad never had any siblings, and his father was just as business-oriented as my father is now. He’s not a bad man; he just doesn’t know what to do with a girl who wanted a different path for herself—and a troubled girl at that.
When my mother decided to move to the city for her career seven years ago, there was no animosity between them—he respected her drive to achieve her goals. But he did insist on keeping me in Plainfield, and she didn’t fight him on it.
“I’ll give you another six months,” he says, leaning against the edge of his desk.
“If your grades don’t improve, we’ll have to make some changes.
” Rubbing a hand over his face, he looks down at me, a brief flicker of softness before it’s gone.
“You may end up working here after all while taking some online classes.”
“But what about my dreams? I want to be a veterinarian, Dad.”
He looks at me pointedly, as if to say, “Why do you think we’re having this conversation?
” then, folds his arms. “If your grades don’t improve, it won’t be an option for you, anyway.
But I’ll tell you what, if you work here, I’ll make some connections with some local animal shelters, and you can volunteer or something in your spare time. ”
I want to argue more, but he pays for everything—my entire life, really. And how can I argue when he really is trying to provide a future for me, and when he thinks he’s doing what’s best?
There’s a knock on his office door, which means I’m no longer his focus.
With a few strides, he’s there, pulling it open. I hate that my father’s face looks pleased when he sees Dylan standing on the other side, and they immediately start chatting like old buddies.
Dylan’s blue eyes land on me, and I internally cringe, even as a touch of jealousy peaks its head over their easy relationship.
Dylan is doing all the things that I’m supposed to be doing for the company, stretching his hands into every aspect of the business, and no doubt Dad probably secretly wishes he was his son.
Dad ushers him inside and walks to the other side of his desk, opening his laptop. “Jennifer and I were just finishing up.”
With that dismissal, I push to my feet, my lips pressed together.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Dylan watches me with a smug look quirking one corner of his lips as I pass him on the way to the door, causing my insides to lean in the other direction.
“No, no,” my father tells him, looking at the laptop screen. “Come sit down. I want to show you something.”
Just before I walk through the door, I look back at them one more time. Dylan turns his head and winks at me, a smirk that looks anything but friendly on his face.
“Six months, Jennifer,” my father calls before the door clicks shut behind me. I pause for a moment on the other side before shaking my head and continuing down the hall.
Feeling dejected, I leave his office building in a rush.
Thankfully, I already made plans to meet the girls for coffee. It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve hung out properly, but I’m hoping they’ll want to come back to my place and watch a movie. Anything, really, to get out of this funk.
Being the first to arrive, I pick a table in the corner by the window, then sit with my back against the wall, watching people come and go while I wait. It’s a cozy little place with abstract art along the walls and little lights hanging all over the place.
Twenty minutes later, right when the anxiety starts to creep in, Jersey pushes through the door to the café, wearing a striped sweater dress, her red-tipped hair in a high pony. She scans the tables, smiling when she sees me sitting back here, then rushes over.
“Hi.” I smile.
“Hey.” She collapses onto the seat across from me, causing a puff of men’s cologne to waft over. “How’s it going?”
“You smell like Matt.”
She laughs, biting her bottom lip. “Oh, we were just hanging out.”
I look past her at the door again. “Is Marni not with you?”
Jersey’s face does this twitchy thing and she shifts in her seat. “Uh, well, she was.” I keep looking at her expectantly. “She’s not coming anymore, hon.”
“What? Why not? She said you guys would be coming together.”
She shifts in her seat again, looking to the side. “We were all hanging together—some of the guys and some girls we’ve gotten to know. I guess she wanted to stay with them.”
A rotten feeling twists my insides, and my eyes drop to the table. She’s been growing a little distant lately, but I thought she was just busy.
Yeah, busy with other friends.
Though truth be told, I’m probably the one to blame for the space growing between us.
I know I’m a cocktail of contradictory emotions. I feel left out. Abandoned. Lonely. And yet I’m the one who has isolated myself by being the way I am now. I’m the one who couldn’t cut it being surrounded by our old friend group, or their new one.
Still, I can’t help but feel like she’s giving up on me.
“She told me to tell you she’s sorry and that she’ll definitely catch up with you soon.”
I force an awkward smile. “Sure. I’ll text her later.”
Jersey glances out the window and then back at me. “So, what did your dad want?”
“Oh, you know, just wanted to tell me how badly I’m doing at life.”
She lets out a puff of air. “I hope you didn’t listen to him.”
I shrug. “Maybe he’s right. I’m making a mess of school, my friendships . . . everything.”
“He’s not right.” She leans across the table and places her hands on top of mine. “You’ve just had a tough year and a half.”
A sudden, deep sense of longing for the old days hits me as I look at her, causing an ache to spread throughout my chest and stomach. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
I turn my palms up to hold her hands. “You should come to my place and hang out this afternoon. Maybe order takeout and watch a movie. What do you say?”
Her face drops, regret pinching her features. “I sort of have plans already. I’m sorry.”
“Oh. That’s okay.” I try not to let the disappointment show too much on my face as I sit back and slide my hands from under hers. “Maybe another time.”
“Definitely.”
I search for my wallet in my purse, trying to keep my smile in place. “At least I still get you for coffee, and you can catch me up on everything. I’ll get yours. What do you want?”
“Actually . . .” Jersey turns to look out the window again, and I follow her gaze to see what she keeps looking at. There sits Matt in the driver’s seat of a car parked right outside.
My stomach drops to the café floor. “Is he waiting for you?”
More regret. More sad eyes. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I agreed to go to the movies with him before I remembered we had planned a coffee date.” Her sentence comes out in a rush, and it takes me a second to process.
“Oh.” My heart feels like it was just squeezed to death. She forgot about me. She made plans and forgot ours. And Marni didn’t even bother telling me she wasn’t going to show up. “You should get going then.”
“No. No. I mean . . .” She looks back out the window, and then back at me. “No. I can stay for a little bit.”
“Really, it’s fine, just go.”
Her lips twist. “Why don’t you come with us? I’m sure Matt won’t mind.”
I shake my head, trying to give myself a few extra seconds because I’m sure my voice will crack.
“Are you sure?” Jersey asks, getting to her feet. “I feel terrible.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She leans down to hug me. “I promise we’ll do something soon, okay?”
“Sure.” I blink several times to keep the tears away before she releases me.
“I’ll text you.” After walking a few steps, she looks over her shoulder, guilt still creasing her face, though not enough to stop her. “I’m sorry,” she mouths, then hurries outside to a waiting Matt.
I sit, staring at the table for a minute before it turns blurry with tears. I guess I’ll just go home and spend the afternoon alone . . . again.
After blinking away the moisture, I look up to see a table of people my age looking in my direction. My skin immediately begins to crawl. Are they looking at the hidden filth beneath?
I push to my feet, the chair scraping back as I do, then rush out of there as quickly as I can.
*~*~*~*~*
Days turn into weeks, and then suddenly months have passed.
And while many things change over that time, one thing that stays the same is the decline in my grades.