Chapter Twenty-Eight Elise #4
That lands hard, and I flinch, feeling myself unravel further. I feel exposed, completely pathetic as I stand in this store in my best dress, fully confident that I could have seduced this man. And I fucking failed.
Pathetic, my mom cackles in my mind.
You are my greatest failure, Elise.
"Get out," Callum's voice has dropped to a low growl, and the temperature in the whole store drops with it. He steps in front of Sophie slightly, as if to protect her from me. "And don't ever try to come back here. You're not welcome. Not ever."
"Like I'd want to spend another minute here," I scoff, though my voice is too high and thin.
I cross my arms over my chest to push up my cleavage—my Hail Mary.
His eyes don't even move from mine, still dark and angry.
The humiliation I feel is scalding me, and I smirk, "You guys are so.
.. cute. Enjoy your time together. What's left of it. "
Callum's eyes flash dangerously at that, "Get out!"
His roar echoes off the walls of the empty store, and I jump, before stomping around them to the door.
"Elise?"
I should just keep walking. I don't want to hear what she has to say. But I stop in my tracks and turn around, Sophie’s tucked into Callum's side, and I could claw that look off of her face.
Not smug, not cruel, not victorious—pity.
That burns me more than anything. The absolute fucking audacity of her to pity me. She's the one with cancer, she's the one who's dying, this frumpy little nobody, and she's pitying me. Unbelievable.
"What?" I snarl at her, trying to get her to react, to jump back in fear, cower, or anything!
She doesn't, she just looks at me, tilting her head like she's studying me. I expect her to give me some snarky insult, some stupid little retort that I can bury without breaking a sweat. Instead, she does something I was not anticipating.
She smiles at me, the sight bright and true and genuine.
"Thank you."
I blink, confused, and wondering if maybe the cancer has spread to her brain. "What?"
"Thank you. Seriously. Because I actually will enjoy the time I have left—however long that is.
I'm going to enjoy it with Callum," Sophie says, turning to smile up at the large man who kisses her forehead, wraps his arm around her shoulders, and pulls her even closer to him.
She turns back to me, a serene smile still on her face.
"And, well..." She shrugs, "You can have Paul. He's all yours."
I open my mouth to retort that Paul's not mine, and then snap it closed, realizing if I let her know that, I'd just be admitting even more defeat to this girl. Gritting my teeth as I watch the couple turn to each other and embrace, forgetting all about me.
I turn and stomp out of the store, slamming the door hard enough to make the bell crash to the ground.
◆◆◆
Two days later of wallowing in my hotel room, I go to the liquor store, grab a bottle of vodka, and head to the beach. Gone are the days of private beach parties in the Hamptons, of spending time at whatever man I was fucking's beach house, of luxury island vacations.
I'm having my own little party, just me and Tito.
The sharp wind is biting, but at this point, I'm drunk enough not to feel anything.
I finish half the bottle, my heels kicked off into the sand as I flex my toes compulsively.
They're turning blue, which is probably a bad sign, but I don't give a fuck.
I can't find it in me to care about anything anymore.
I lie back on the sand, the wetness of it soaking into my shirt, and I stare at the darkening sky.
I tried to call Paul in desperation yesterday, but my number has been blocked.
I even tried to call a couple of my old friends, and only Sarah answered.
She sent me some pity money and then told me to lose her number.
I feel alone. Truly alone for the first time in my life.
I'd always been surrounded by people—the help, au pairs, my dance instructor, dieticians, gym trainers, my friends, and now. ..
Nothing.
My phone buzzes, and I feel a stab of hope skyrocket in me before I can tamp it down. I don't even look at who's calling when I answer.
"H-Hello?"
"Elise."
My heart drops into my stomach at the voice, and my fingers tighten around my phone. That voice, that very unwelcome voice, I haven't heard from in over a year.
"Mom?"
"Your father's dead."
She says it so bluntly, so baldly, I'm convinced I mishear her. All the noise fades away—the ocean, the distant sounds of the boardwalk, traffic. All of it is gone. The only thing I can hear is my heart slamming in my ear, threatening to burst from my chest.
"Elise... hello, are you even listening to me... Elise!"
"What?" I ask, once I take a couple of breaths to compose myself. "He's... he's gone?"
"Drowned himself," she supplies. Her voice is half slurred, so I know she's been having a night. "Or just drowned. I don't fucking remember what they told me, and honestly, I don't fucking care. Good fucking riddance."
Her words don't make sense.
My father is dead. My father is dead.
My father is dead, and I hate the stinging of my eyes, the moisture gathering that blurs the ocean in front of me, and the hot tears that slip down my cheeks.
Why am I crying for a man who didn't love me, who didn't want me?
He doesn't deserve them. He's not owed my grief.
Fuck him. She's right, good fucking riddance.
And yet...
"Elise, pay attention!"
"Sorry," I apologize reflexively, my voice scratchy.
"I'm calling you to let you know he's gone," she barks a humorless laugh, "Oh, and he didn't leave us a fucking thing. Donated it all to fucking charity, and that little bitch Claire got a nice little donation to her art gallery. As if she’s not married to a fucking Salvatore!
Useless while alive and now useless while dead. .."
Charity. He gave all of the money away to charity.
The thought is sour in my head. I could have used that money right fucking now, but he just gave it all away to strangers.
Not to the person he helped create. I didn't even measure up to them in his eyes.
He gave it away to Claire, to the woman he actually loved.
My father's dead.
"Is there... is—will there be—a... funeral or—" I stumble over my words, my throat going more and more dry.
She huffs a bitter laugh, "They already cremated him. Dumped his ashes in the ocean. Sweet, isn't it?"
I reach up and rub my chest, an ache starting there. My father is dead, his body is gone. He's gone.
For good.
"Listen, Elise... you can come home... s-sweetheart," the last word is practically choked out of her.
She's never referred to me by any name like that.
The closest I ever got was grand prize. My hackles rise as she continues on, her voice uncharacteristically small. "Do you... do you have any money?"
"What?"
"Do you have anything left? I know your father gave you some when you left."
"When I was cut out, you mean?" I ask bitterly and hear her gulp once more. I can picture her slamming her drink back.
"Elise, sweetheart, I need... I need some money. I'm broke right now—"
"What the hell happened to the money you received from the divorce?"
"Your father's lawyer is what happened!" She explodes, and I hear the sound of glass breaking. Her voice is angrier than I've ever heard when she continues, "That piece of shit found some goddamn infidelity loophole in the post-nup," she hisses, voice dropping low. "Motherfucking Andrew Abbot..."
My lungs seize, my brain booting back up and going into overdrive. "You... and Andrew?"
"Oh, come on, Elise." She scoffs, the sound brittle.
"Don't be so damn naive. You think your father and I slept in separate bedrooms for years because we were happy?
You think I went that long without a man?
Please. How do you think you got that job, sweetheart?
It wasn't your father's doing—it was mine. Everything you are is because of me."
Everything you are is because of me.
That might be the most truthful statement my mother has ever told me, and it rocks me like a punch to the gut.
Everything I am is because of her.
All of this is because of her.
"Yeah," I choke out, my voice hollow. "I know."
I hang up on her and then block the number. I know she'll probably track me down one day, before she vanishes off this earth. I clutch my stomach as it swirls around violently. Losing the battle, I bend over to the side and vomit, emptying the contents of my stomach.
It's not much. I haven't had the funds nor the desire to eat over the last couple of days. Which is how I got so drunk so easily. It's all bile that comes out, and once I'm done painfully retching, I cover it up with sand.
Then I sit and stare at the water for a long time.
The tide gets closer and closer to my bare feet, and I think about the two people who created me. The people who shaped me to end up here, in this moment.
My father is dead.
My mother is wasting away.
I am broke.
I have no job.
I have no friends.
I am humiliated.
Nothing. I have nothing.
I think about the paths laid out before me and the ones I can choose to follow.
Follow the woman who had everything she wanted and who's now rotting from the inside out.
You are my grand prize, Elise.
Or follow the man who lived in regret and heartbreak for so long that he let the water take him.
You are my greatest failure.
I don't know which path to take.
I don't know what's worse.
The slow decay or the quick end.
The tide reaches out to me and then pulls back.
And I consider reaching out and letting it pull me in.