Chapter Seven Karmen
A sharp, icy jealousy clamps around my ribs, squeezing the breath out of me as I slip inside and twist the lock shut.
Even my fidget isn’t working to tame the snarling emotions consuming me.
I know Benson has been with other women since me.
I’m not naive enough to think he’d be sitting around pining for me after all these years, but that phone call incited emotions in me I’ve long since buried.
Because if I didn’t, I’d still be in that cold, dark place I was in before.
The sound of my phone ringing pulls me from my heavy thoughts, and the name lighting up the screen has another wave of anxiety coursing through me. I’ve been expecting his call all day. No doubt he’s already heard about what happened. I’m surprised he waited this long.
“Hey, Dad,” I greet, steeling my spine.
“What’s this I hear about you resigning?” he asks, voice laced with disappointment.
Straight to the point, just as I anticipated. As a newly elected state senator, he knows everything. Not that it’s ever stopped him before. My boundaries are invisible to him.
Picking up my fidget, I squeeze it in my hands and take a seat on the edge of the couch. “There was a conflict of interest with my last case.”
“I see,” he says, his hollow voice saturated with disappointment.
I’ve always been a disappointment to him. I’ve spent my life trying to be what he wanted, to make him proud, to earn his love, but despite everything I’ve accomplished, it’s never been enough.
“And how, dare I ask, was it a conflict of interest?”
I swallow hard as I force the words out. “I know the suspect personally.”
Silence.
Silence so loud it’s deafening.
“And you didn’t think to disclose that beforehand?”
I sigh. “It’s complicated.”
He laughs, but it’s cruel and mocking. “Complicated? Karmen, your whole life has been nothing but a complication.”
“Dad, I really don’t—”
“Spare me,” he mutters with disgust.
Embarrassment is the worst kind of offense you can commit against my father. He loathes anything that reflects poorly upon him. He’s all about appearances, and his reputation is more important than anything else, including his only daughter.
“This is the last thing I need right now. All eyes are on me and subsequently on you. And with the way things went down with Thanos, we don’t need another scandal on our hands.”
My father has never been one-to-mince words, especially with me. He knows exactly what to say to tear me down and make me feel like shit, and he knows mentioning Thanos is a kill shot.
I remain quiet. He won’t hear anything I have to say anyway. He never has.
“Do I need to remind you what’s at stake here?” he asks.
I grind my teeth, rolling the fidget back and forth on top of my thigh, but the fabric barrier of my dress pants prevents the spikes from embedding into my skin like I so desperately need.
I toss the fidget on the floor and pinch the inside of my thigh as hard as I can. “No, I know exactly what’s at stake.”
More silence.
“Your mother wants me to remind you of the charity ball tomorrow night.”
Shit.
I intentionally forgot about that.
“I can’t—I have a lot going on and—”
“That wasn’t a request,” he says in a sharp tone, cutting me off. “You will be there.”
My neck stiffens at the command, and I fight against every instinct in my body to tell him to fuck off.
The last thing I want to do is pretend to be the perfect daughter while my father plays politician and my mother the obedient wife.
Since I can remember, they have held a charity ball every year to raise money for Haven of Hope, a nonprofit he founded years ago to help people struggling with addiction.
A noble cause, but I’m no fool; it’s just a mask to conceal the dirty deals made at those twenty-thousand-dollar tables.
“Do you realize how important this is for me?”
It’s always about him. What’s important to him. How my decisions always affect him. God forbid he acknowledge or even care about anyone else’s needs or feelings. I’m not going, but telling him that will only drag out this conversation, and I can’t deal with him tonight.
“I’ll be there,” I lie.
“Good. Don’t be late.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye.
Taking off my shoes, I curl into a ball on the couch, pulling a throw blanket from the back to cover myself.
The heavy weight of loneliness presses down on me.
I should be used to it by now, the empty void that never goes away.
The merciless ache and longing for something more.
But as darkness settles in and my thoughts drift back to all the years I’ve spent trying to prove myself, silently begging for my father to love me back, it all becomes painfully clear.
Nothing I do will ever be enough.
I will never be enough.
My thoughts drift to Benson, the only person who has ever truly seen me.
The only person who has loved me for me.
He was never ashamed or disappointed in me, even though there were plenty of times I was disappointed in myself.
He showed me what love was supposed to feel like.
I had it in my grasp, but like a fool, I destroyed it.
I burrow further under the blanket, haunted by the choices I’ve made, wondering if I’ll ever forgive myself for giving up something so beautiful and pure to please a man who will never love me, who will never appreciate my worth.
Benson’s absence has been a constant ache, a reminder of the life I could have had.
And in the crushing silence, I realize the cruelest truth of all: I lost him forever, and in doing so, I lost myself too.