Chapter Thirty-Four

Right before we move on to the pavlova, I excuse myself from the table and head off to the bathroom. I do my business quickly, so Jake isn't alone for too long. When I open the door, finding someone standing right behind it makes me jump back with a small gasp.

Vivienne is right there, with nothing but annoyance plastered on her botoxed features.

"Alright, you've had your fun. Now you can stop," she utters, her tone ice cold.

"What do you mean?"

"Whoever that is you came with, he needs to leave without making a scene."

"Jake? He's my boyfriend, I told you."

"No, he's not," she maintains, shaking her pristine head.

"I assure you he is."

"He's someone you're using to get back at me for some reason. I told you to return with Edward, so now you're acting up. This is late teenage angst, your puerile way to rebel. And frankly, I find it ridiculous. God knows you've had a solid serve of it already. But it was expected when you were a teenager. It isn't acceptable anymore."

I'm so lost and confused that I don't know what to say. I always knew Jake might be a problem for my parents, but the past couple of hours gave me hope that I was wrong. Turns out I was just terribly naive.

"I thought—I thought things were going great. You and Father didn't—"

"The only reason we didn't cause a scene was to not ruin these celebrations—even though you took care of that yourself by bringing that man into it."

"He's a great person, talented, and sweet, and funny, and clever. I've never met anyone who treats me like he does, like a queen, like—"

"Oh, please. Of the many problematic things you are, Genevieve, stupid isn't one of them. You can't possibly believe that you and that man can have any kind of future together."

She could have slapped me and it would have hurt less than this awful stabbing sensation in my chest.

"Edward told me, you know," she adds, filled with disappointment. "He told me you were seeing someone new and that I'd be ashamed of the kind of person he is. But even the warning wasn't enough to prepare me for the creature you chose to burden us with."

She knew about Jake already? Edward, that tattling asshole, told her?

"Is this why you canceled DC and came here tonight? You wanted to see him since Gerry told you I'd be accompanied?"

"Can you blame a mother for wanting to protect her child? I'm only looking after you, darling. You might think you know it all at your age, but that's clearly a misconception."

"I'm mature enough to decide for myself, Mother. Jake is a fantastic man, no matter what you think."

"A fantastic man? Have you no shame? To think you've exposed your own nieces to him! Have you seen the influence he's had on them already? They look ridiculous with those drawings all over. What comes next? Alcohol? Drugs?"

"The girls like him! More than they ever did Edward. Camellia even spoke to him a few times. I promise, Mother, he's not what you think."

"He is a man of nothing but sins, Genevieve. Piercings, tattoos, alcohol… That man lives off people's desperation and mental imbalance. And you want me to believe he's a good person? That you're not using him to punish your father and me?"

"He is an artist, and just because you can't understand his craft doesn't mean it's—"

"Why do you insist on being a perpetual disappointment?" she cuts me off, her tone so cold it freezes my blood. "Have you not done enough as it is? Must you plague this family with another tragedy by bringing that vile, lowly freak into it? I will not tolerate—"

"I beg your fucking pardon?"

Jake's threatening mutter sends everything flying in my mind, shattering the confusion into utter panic.

My heart is in my throat, taking so much space that I can't fill my lungs. When I see the pure rage plastered on Jake's features, a sensation of nausea spreads within me and persists no matter how much I try to swallow it back. This can't be happening. Jake having a hot-headed reaction to Edward is nothing like him going off on my mother. In my heart, I didn't care about Eddie, but this is something else entirely.

Which is why I need to stop it before it even happens.

Vivienne looks unfazed, glaring at Jake like he's nothing but a pest. "This is a family matter. You're not concerned by this conversation."

"I'm directly concerned. The fuck is your problem?"

"Jake!" I intervene, refusing to let this blow out of proportion. "I'm handling this."

My interjection might have worked had Mother not added to it. "My daughter is too good for you, and if you don't realize that, you're a fool."

"Oh, I realize that. Your daughter is phenomenal, and I'm blessed to be deserving of her affection. But do you even know how amazing of a person she is?"

He points at the other end of the hallway, toward the others still seated at the dinner table. "I saw your eyes roll when she talked about that promotion she's after. I saw your lips pinch whenever she laughed as if it made you physically uncomfortable to witness her happiness. So, again, what the fuck is your problem? Why do you loathe your own daughter?"

"Jacob, that's enough!" I intervene.

"Is it? Are you content with this situation? She berates you, and you present the other cheek again and again."

"The complex relationship I have with my daughter is none of your concern, Mr. Clarke," Mother interjects.

"That's where you're wrong. I'm making your daughter's happiness my concern and priority. And you seem hell-bent on destroying it."

I can't even talk, at a loss for words, trying to figure out how to defuse the situation. This is a nightmare, and I'm paralyzed with fear.

"I don't need lessons in parenting from someone like you," Vivienne venomously hisses. "I have no doubt that you have little bastards roaming this city, but I will deal with Genevieve the way I see fit."

"Do you think she'll bear it for much longer? You're going to lose a second daughter, and you'll have only yourself to blame for it."

I don't know what comes over me, but I aggressively shove my hands into Jake's chest, overtaken by a mix of panic, guilt, and fright. "I said that's enough, Jacob!" I shout.

He looks dumbfounded, as if I'm wrong for trying to stop him from ruining everything. Can he not see all the irreparable damage he's causing? It will take months, years, to make up for this.

I've worked so hard to maintain a cordial relationship with my parents, bitten my tongue hundreds of times, swallowed back my pride, endured the underhanded remarks… And he's destroying all of it because he can't contain himself for a single evening.

"This is the man who treats you like a queen?" Mother asks with acidic irony. "Maybe you two deserve each other after all."

I stand there as if my stilettos are glued to the hardwood floor while she makes her way out, returning to the others.

"What a heinous bitch," Jake mutters under his breath as soon as we're alone.

"She's my mother, Jake!" I vehemently say.

"That woman doesn't deserve an ounce of the respect and affection you have for her."

"Weren't you the one saying people should cherish their mothers? This is my life, and I will decide what I can and can't have in it!"

"So because she gave life to you, she gets to treat you horribly for the rest of it?"

"I endure it because of Victoria, okay?!"

For a couple of beats, he tries and fails to make sense of my words, his eyebrows twitching as he thinks. "Your sister? Would she want this for you? Would she want to see you endure a miserable life of victimhood?"

"Don't act like you know what my sister would have wanted, Jake. You didn't know her."

"I don't need that to know she'd want better for you! You deserve better."

"No, I deserve exactly this!"

"No one does, Gen. And your sister would—"

"I killed her!" I blurt out, cracking under the immense stress of this situation. Jake's angered features transform into confusion, like my confession isn't clear enough. So, I continue. "She died because of me, Jacob. I killed that woman's daughter, and I deserve her punishment."

"I thought it was an accident? That her car hit a deer?"

"She was out there because of me. If my parents want to blame me for it for the rest of my life, I will let them give me every bit of their hatred."

He still looks so lost, and I have no idea how I could lay it out for him any clearer.

"I was perfectly fine with paying for what happened to Vicky. I was fine with it all, but then you came in and ruined everything."

He looks dumbfounded. "I ruined everything?"

"You make me want a lot more than I deserve. And I've been so distracted by you that I barely even thought about my sister for weeks. But if I'm not there to remember and love her, who will?"

"It's called healing, and there's nothing wrong with it. Whatever you did, whatever involvement you had in her death, you don't deserve to pay for it for the rest of your life."

I shove his chest again, irritated by his clueless insistence. "Stop acting like you know what this is about! Vicky died all alone on the side of the road because I snuck out for a dumb party. I deserve this life for being so stupid and selfish!"

He thinks about it for a moment, eyes set on mine, and the silence that falls around us is laced with tension. I vaguely notice that we can hear the others talking, meaning they might hear our argument. But I can't be bothered to care.

"So, you think every teenager that sneaks out to party deserves a lifelong punishment like you? Or is it just your self-sabotaging ways trying to find some reason to justify all this shit?" he eventually asks.

"You can't reduce it to just that, Jake. Someone died—my sister, my twin, my other half. And I was doing fine, but you just set everything back years with my mother. Couldn't you just hold your tongue for a single evening? Couldn't you set your pride aside and bear it, like I've been doing for an entire decade?"

"It isn't about pride, Genevieve. I learned a long time ago that my appearance means a lot of people will have a bad opinion about me from the start. What's unbearable and what I couldn't let slide was the way she treats you. And how you let her, like a fucking doormat. This isn't how a parent should treat their child."

"And how the fuck would you know about that?"

I realize I let my anger go too far when he looks like I've physically hurt him. His expression turns sad, and I want to hug him and take it all back.

"It took me two hours," he carefully starts after a moment, "to understand that the woman out there, your ‘mother,' will never forgive you. You stick around like her willing punching bag, hoping she'll eventually get tired and forget her grievances. But it hasn't happened in ten years, and it never will. She lost two daughters that night, whether you accept it or not."

I want to deny and argue, but nothing comes. My mouth opens and closes a few times, my mind coming back blank.

This has lasted long enough. We have to return to the others and finish this dinner before heading to the guys' rooftop party. Things will be easier then.

"We need to go back, have dessert, and leave," I say.

"I'm not going back."

"What?"

"I'm leaving, Gen. No fucking way I'm staying and sitting in front of your mother like she didn't just call me a vile and lowly freak."

"Jake, please. You can't—"

"I can, and I am."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. But I'd hate to ruin that amazing thing you two have going on, so do stay. I'll see myself out."

I'm speechless, stuck in place, while he gives me one last look before he turns around and makes his way back to the others. Only when he disappears do I gather enough brain cells to command my feet to follow him.

Just as I reach the living space, I hear Malory ask, "Oh, you're already leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry," Jake explains, picking up his jacket from the couch we sat on earlier. "I've imposed my presence on you and your family for long enough."

"Nonsense," Gerry counters. "We're about to try your dessert. Stay."

"Let him leave," Mother interjects.

She and Jake exchange a nasty glare, and I stand there, helpless.

"I've got other plans for the evening," Jake explains. "But it was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for dinner, everything was delicious."

Camellia slides down from her chair and walks up to Jake with hurried steps. "Will you come back?" she asks.

"With more gifts," Poppy adds.

"Uh, I don't know, girls. I'm really not sure."

"Please," the girls beg.

Jake looks around, uncertain. "We'll see, yeah? Right now, I really gotta go, girls."

He pats the girls' heads, shakes Mal and Ger's hands, then spares me a glance after ignoring my parents. Mal goes to open the door for him, and my feet set themselves into motion as soon as he passes it.

"Jake, wait," I call out as I rush through the corridor.

I have to call a second time for him to stop and turn around with a sigh. "You might have no dignity and tolerate your mother's offenses, Genevieve, but I do."

This one feels like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. "It's not that simple."

"It is. All you have to do is open your eyes and see her for what she is: a malicious bitch who'll make you pay for your sister's accident until the day she dies. And the only reason she can do that, the reason she will, is because you not only allow it, you also welcome it. This makes a martyr out of you, and you prefer that to healing and living the life you deserve."

When his eyes dart to something behind me, I instinctively turn around to notice Mother standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Gen," he mutters. I watch, torn, as he walks away and pushes the elevator button.

Everything in me wants to follow him. But if I do, a decade of sacrifices and hard work to improve my relationship with my mother goes down the drain. Ten years of eating shit and enduring her cruelty, gone in the snap of a finger because I'm being emotional and impulsive.

Jake enters the elevator when it arrives, not sparing me even a glance. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as soon as the doors close behind him.

What am I doing? He's my Ladder Guy, my wombat, my everything. I need to go to him.

The instant I'm about to step in the elevator's direction, a hand comes to my arm, clasping it firmly. "Don't deprive us of another daughter, Genevieve," Mother demands. "It would be too cruel of you."

"I'm not—that's not what I'm doing."

I can't talk or formulate a coherent sentence. When I attempt to take a step toward the elevator, her hand tightens around my arm and prevents it. "Stay."

"I need to go to him," I say between sobs. I'm so upset I can barely breathe.

"No, you need to stay right here with your family." Her cold hands grab my face to wipe the tears streaming down my cheeks. "There, there, my darling," she consoles.

Her motherly gestures are so unexpected that I'm taken aback. I don't expect it either when she pulls me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me.

It's stiff and unfamiliar, but I've waited ten years for any form of affection from her, so it doesn't even matter. I break down into more sobs. Where's the relief I expected? Why doesn't my mother's embrace alleviate any of this pain?

We stay in this awkward and rigid embrace until she pulls away and rearranges my hair with efficiency. "Come, darling. Let's return to the others and enjoy some family time together."

I'm not fully there as I follow her. Everything inside me is being ripped in half between what I want to do and what I must do. My body passes the door with her, but my mind is with Jake, thinking back on all those precious moments we've shared.

Couldn't he hold his tongue for a single evening? Despite knowing how important my parents' approval was, he didn't even try to make it work. He made himself the victim, but I'm the one suffering the most.

Mother leads me back to the table and makes me sit in my chair. My attention travels to Jake's seat, which is now empty of his beautiful presence.

I feel so numb and hollow, so lost, that I can't even hear the conversation. My brother sets a plate with a serving of strawberry pavlova in front of me, and he gives my shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Jake chose strawberries because I told him it was my favorite fruit. His entire apartment smelled sweet and fruity yesterday from the homemade jam.

Another tear rolls down my cheek while I stare down at the carefully constructed dessert. I craved to taste this all day long, but if I take even a bite, I'll break down into pieces.

Why couldn't things go smoothly? Why did it have to turn into a bloodbath?

And what the hell am I supposed to do now?