Giving up on my pity party for one, I leave my bedroom and wander around the apartment, glaring at every piece of art I pass by. My parents—specifically my mother—care more about the art hanging on their walls than about me. She hasn’t come to talk to me once since I’ve come home. No reassuring words like, “I’ll speak to your father,” or even a, “You’ll be okay,” mentioned.
She’s letting me suffer on my own.
I approach her sitting room, hearing the voices coming from the open doorway, and I pause, pressing myself against the wall when I realize it’s my parents.
And they’re talking about me.
“When are you going to give her phone back?” Mom asks.
“If I had my choice, never,” Daddy mutters, the disgust clear in his voice.
“She’s almost eighteen. Just give it back to her. What’s the worst that could happen if she has it?”
“That boy will text her. Call her. He’s been doing it nonstop since I took the phone from her.”
My heart swells with hope. He hasn’t given up on me.
“At least he’s persistent.”
“That means nothing. She had sex with him, Cecily. Of course he’s persistent. He’s hoping for more,” Daddy explains.
I wince, hating how he thinks Crew only cares about me because we had sex. When it felt like so much more than that…
“Well, she attracted a Lancaster, which I have to admit is a solid choice. At least she picked well,” Mom says.
“She should’ve never done that. She promised herself to me,” Daddy says vehemently.
“Your archaic ways can’t stick forever and you know it. She’s a beautiful girl. Smart. Interesting. It doesn’t surprise me at all that Crew wanted to land her in his bed.”
I’m shocked by my mother’s words. She thinks I’m beautiful? Smart? Interesting? Most of the time she acts as if she can barely stand me.
“Don’t say that,” Daddy says bitterly. “I can’t stand the idea of her being with him.”
“Well, it’s true! She’s almost a woman, Harvey. You’re going to have to let her go sometime. You two have a very close relationship, but if you prevent her from seeing this boy, she’ll resent you,” Mom says. “Give her the phone back. Let her talk to him. We’ll see what happens. She’s a wise girl. She won’t make a stupid decision.”
“We don’t know that. I’ve protected her all these years. It terrifies me, thinking of her on her own. Making bad choices, putting herself at risk.” He sounds tortured, and I immediately feel bad.
“You’ve created this by protecting her for far too long. Give her back that phone. Tell her you’re sorry for invading her privacy. And let her make her own choices, her own mistakes. If we’ve done anything right, she’ll do well. Like I said, she’s a smart girl. She can handle herself, and this boy. And if he breaks her heart, then so be it. That’s life. She’ll hurt, she’ll heal and she’ll move on.”
Tears prick the corner of my eyes, listening to my mother’s support. If I could, I’d run into that room and hug her. Thank her for believing in me when my father still refuses to.
Instead, I return to my room and stare out the window, watching the rain fall. It splatters against the glass with the wind, the clouds a dark threatening gray, and I hold my old teddy bear to my chest as I sit curled up on my bed.
There’s a soft knock on my door and then my mother appears, a kind smile on her face. “May I come in?”
I nod, not saying anything.
She glides in, holding something behind her back. “A package came for you.”
I frown. “Really?”
“Yes.” She holds it out in front of me and I frown at the small white box, wondering who it came from. She waves it at me. “Take it.”
I do as she says, opening the box carefully by pulling off the lid.
“It was delivered by courier,” Mom says as she watches me. “From someone local, I assume.”
I push back the layers of white tissue to reveal a small black box. Picking it up, I read the label.
“It’s Chanel,” Mom says. “Looks like lipstick.”
I immediately know who it’s from.
The lipstick is Chanel Rouge Allure Luminous Intense Lip Colour. I open the small box and pull out the tube, taking the cap off and rolling it up to see it’s an intense, crimson red.
“Looks like 99 Pirate.” I glance up at my mother in confusion. “It’s their iconic red. I own it.”