Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

Sabella

Life is hectic when Pirate and I move in with Ryan and Celeste and my university course starts in February. I embrace the strenuous pace with open arms. Being busy helps me to forget about birthdays and the unexpected gifts—or rather, curses—they bring.

As I need my own wheels to commute from Bloubergstrand to the campus, Dad buys me an entry-level Mini Cooper. The car is still expensive, but it's a far cry from a Ferrari.

Colin and I spend our free time together studying in the library. The separation from May left him heartbroken. We're not as close as we used to be, but he's still my only friend.

Moments of leisure are scarce at the beginning. I have classes back-to-back from eight in the morning to six in the evening. On weekends, I either have lunch at Colin's apartment or he dines at Ryan and Celeste's place. On the odd occasion, we squeeze in a swim at one of the many beautiful beaches. If Celeste is busy, we take Brad to the rock pool. I adore spending time with my nephew. The older he gets, the more he looks like Ryan.

Celeste took up her old job as a volunteer at the Green Earth Association, which means I get to babysit in the evenings when she's running late. Ryan always fetches her from the office at night. He prohibited her from driving alone after dark. Living with them revealed my brother's overprotective streak, another side of his character I didn't know existed.

Mattie falls pregnant in April. We all go to visit them in Stellenbosch for the weekend. Mom has been staying over with them frequently, at least a couple of weeks every month, which makes me wonder about her and Dad's relationship. Dad has always been busy with work, often traveling to visit his clients across the country, but these days, Mom is absent from home more frequently. If she's not at Mattie's, she's at a spa retreat. And what about Jared? Doesn't he mind that his mother-in-law is living more with them than at her own house? When I tell Mattie about my concern, Mattie says Mom is only enjoying her newfound freedom now that there are no more kids in the house.

May flies past. My skin has long since healed where Angelo left his stamp. The seal is drawn in embossed lines that, once the angry red has faded, are lighter than my olive tone. The hair Angelo had shaved grew back, covering the mark. I don't have time for a part-time job in the week, but when my course hours decrease in my second year, I can take up waitressing to save money for plastic surgery, which isn't covered by my medical aid. A skin graft costs an arm and a leg.

I'll have to undergo the procedure on the sly, maybe during a winter holiday when I can make up an excuse of going away for a couple of weeks. I can always say I'm joining a class expedition. Senior students sometimes join film crews or researchers on boats, offering their services for free in exchange for experience. Job opportunities in my field are few and far between, and every little extra you can add to your CV helps.

I become a frequent participator in the campus social life. I even join a fundraiser to save endangered sharks. My dad's company donates a substantial amount, which earns me the title of secretary of our association. When I'm not submitting funding proposals to high-end companies in the city, I'm delivering weekend lectures at tourist information centers about conservation and false shark perceptions.

I'm no stranger to the on and off-campus parties either. I attend every concert and beer festival. I'd be lying if I say I enjoy the smell of stale lager in sweaty tents, the tabletops that are covered in sticky alcohol, the stench of vomit in the trashcans, and trudging through a muddy sports field through a mass of drunken people. The only reason I'm doing it is to prove to my family and Colin that I'm not anti-social. That I'm not a prisoner of Angelo's sinister promises. That he doesn't have an invisible hold on me.

Whenever I consider accepting an invitation for a glass of cheap wine or sharing a pizza, I think about what happens after wine and pizza. A relationship? Sex? I'm not up for either. As I don't have a minute to waste, I always end up declining. It has nothing to do with the memory of the sex I had with Angelo and the fear that no other man will compare. Neither is it related to the fear that Roch is watching me. At least, that's what I like to believe. From time to time, I think I spot Roch's shaved head in a crowd or outside my class, but if he's there, he's good at hiding.

Angelo's phone remains charged and on my person, but he's not sending text or voice messages any longer. He's eerily quiet after I rejected his gift and donated it to charity. Is it the quiet before the storm? Will he show up next year in January? What will he claim this time? I gave him my innocence and my virtue. I gave him my love and my hate. Is there anything left to give?

When we break for the winter holiday in June, Colin goes to a game farm in the north with his family. Instead of going home to Great Brak River, I stay in Cape Town. I promised the association I'd present talks at the aquarium, and I need to brush up on studies in which I've fallen behind.

My parents come over for lunch on a Sunday. They're staying at Mattie and Jared's house for the weekend, but it's Ryan's birthday and Celeste invited the family for an intimate gathering. Her parents, Vida and Oliver, arrive windblown and bone-thin from the shack on the West Coast they moved into a few months ago. The relocation from their comfortable home in Constantia is meant as a spiritual retreat to reconnect with nature.

Oliver proudly tells us how they live on barnacles they pry from the rocks and the kelp the sea gifts them, shaking his head when Celeste offers him a duck a l'orange appetizer. My mom huffs something under her breath and makes herself scarce to play with her grandson.

"I'll take that," I say, grabbing the tray with caviar and olive ciabatta toast from Celeste.

"Thank you." She offers me a grateful smile. "You're a star."

I exit onto the veranda with the tray. My mom lounges on the bench swing with Brad, reading his favorite book about a blue butterfly that leaves his cocoon to go on a trip around the world. Vida and Oliver are sipping lemon juice diluted with water while explaining the benefits of fasting to Ryan, who looks bored. My dad sits at the garden table, nursing a tumbler with amber liquid.

It's only eleven. I hope the early drinking isn't becoming a habit.

Going over, I make my voice bright. "Caviar?"

He looks at the tray and then at my face, seeming miles away. "Oh. No, thank you, darling."

Leaving the tray in a shady spot on the table, I take a seat next to him. "I miss you."

He smiles. "I miss you too. The house is empty."

"Is that why Mom is away so much of late?"

His smile turns knowing. "Stop worrying about your mother and me. We're not planning on leaving each other."

"That's not what I meant. I just want both of you to be happy."

"We are." He winks. "Relationships are dynamic. They have a way of evolving with time and situations." Looking toward the sea, he continues, "It means constantly adapting to accommodate yourself and the person you love. It's just something we have to figure out as we go along. Right now, your mother and my relationship has changed. We went from being alone in the world to having you kids and back to being alone, again. It requires some adjustments. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes." I lean my head on his shoulder. "Are you happy?"

"Very," he says. "I couldn't ask for a more beautiful family."

"Good." I straighten to look at him. "How about work?"

"Work is work." He sips his drink. "You know my philosophy. I don't mix work and my personal life. It's a good motto for happiness, Bella."

"I'll remember that."

We sit in an amiable silence, enjoying the winter sun on our faces, until his phone pings.

"Sorry," he mumbles, fishing the phone from his pocket.

His expression changes when he checks the screen. Taking his handkerchief from his other pocket, he wipes his nape and his brow. I don't miss the fleeting glance he exchanges with Ryan or how my brother's stance tenses. Oliver is still talking up a storm, but Ryan's attention is fixed on my dad. They're isolated in the moment, sharing something that makes the rest of us vanish. I'm not sure why that scares me.

"Dad?" I say, touching his hand.

He puts away the phone and wraps his fingers around mine. "Love you, Bella, darling. Never forget that."

A lump lodges in my throat. I miss spending time with him. I miss falling asleep in his study and waking up to the sound of his pencil scratching over paper and a soft blanket covering me. I miss falling asleep in the back of the car when we return from a late night at friends only to wake when Dad carries me up to bed.

My dad has never been stingy with his compliments or in showing Mattie or me affection. Yet for some reason, this moment feels major. He picked up more weight, and the dark rings under his eyes say he's losing sleep, but he's healthy and still in good shape. He's strong and dependable. He's not going to have a heart attack or a stroke.

I tell myself this as I wrap my fingers around the sea turtle pendant on the gold chain around my neck and huddle closer. "I love you too, Dad."

The piece of jewelry is my most precious materialistic possession. The bracelet Angelo's family gifted me is now lying in the bottom of my drawer. After my seventeenth birthday, I never wore it again.

Celeste exits and claps her hands. "Everyone at the table, please." On her way back into the house, she calls, "Ryan, you're at the head. Everybody else can sit wherever they please."

Knowing what's to come, I don't offer to help. I stay next to my dad while the others take their places. Mom leads Brad by the hand to his highchair, which is placed between Ryan and Celeste. Mom sits down on the other side of Dad. When he takes her hand and cups it on his thigh, my heart warms.

A moment later, Celeste walks out with a giant cake smothered in chocolate frosting. Twenty-eight candles burn on top.

"Happy birthday, Ryan," she says, glowing more brightly than the combined flames of the birthday candles.

Ryan gives her a private smile as she puts the cake in front of him and takes her hand when she straightens next to his chair. His parents start singing happy birthday. Mom rolls her eyes but joins in as everyone takes the cue. Ryan looks mildly embarrassed.

Brad claps his hands and laughs from his belly, which makes everyone chuckle in turn.

"You know what to do," Celeste says, kissing Ryan's cheek.

He turns to Brad. "Ready, champ?"

Brad makes big eyes.

"Wait." Vida takes a phone from her pocket. "I have to film this. Oh, shoot. It's not working. No. It's fine. I've got it. Go ahead."

My mom rolls her eyes again.

Ryan takes a big breath and blows out the candles, much to Brad's delight.

Celeste hands Ryan a knife. "The honor is yours."

"No cake for us," Oliver says. "It'll upset our diet. If it didn't come straight from the sea, I'm afraid we can't touch it."

"Does caviar count?" Mom asks with a bite in her tone.

Oliver looks genuinely puzzled. "That's a very good question. No, I guess it doesn't. The sea didn't offer it, did it?"

"Didn't it offer the fish?" she asks.

Dad kicks her under the table.

Celeste hands out the slices of cake, starting with Brad who digs his little fists into the frosting and makes a huge mess of stuffing his face.

"You'd think we'd eat before dessert is served," Mom says under her breath.

"There's nothing wrong with doing things out of order every now and again," Dad replies.

Mattie cups her stomach. "This baby does not like chocolate."

"Do you need the bathroom?" Jared asks, jumping to his feet.

Mattie waves him away. "I can make it there just fine."

"First trimester," Mom announces with an air of expertise to Vida and Oliver.

"Oh." Vida takes a sip of her lemon juice. "We've all been there."

Mom pins me with a look. "Almost all of us."

"Don't start," I say around a mouthful of cake. "This is delicious, Celeste."

"Thank you." She plonks down in a chair next to Ryan. "Who's hungry for food? Someone other than Ryan has to man the barbecue. He's not allowed to work on his birthday."

"Oh, dear." Mom takes a gulp of wine. "If it's your father, we're eating burnt chicken."

"Chargrilled chicken," he says with a wink.

Everyone laughs.

I sit back and observe the people around the table. They all speak at once. The conversation is chaotic and loud. Mom is throwing jabs and Celeste is ignoring her. Brad has dumped a lump of frosting in Vida's lap. Oliver is trying to clean it with a napkin he dunked in his glass of water, making an even bigger mess. The gathering is disjointed, but it's us. It's not the cocktail party Mom would've liked, but somehow, it seems normal.

Like family.

For once, despite our problems, everyone seems happy.