Page 22 of The Absence of You
“I hope you’re going to make a fuss over Charlotte tonight.” I’m lying on my back on my bed, staring at the ceiling when my dad comes into my room without knocking. Every time he speaks to me lately, I want to punch him in his irritating face. He’s made his expectations clear more than enough times. I do not need constant reminders, like I’m a goldfish with a three second memory span.
I should be getting ready to go to her party right now, but it’s hard to find the motivation. When I don’t respond to him, he stalks over to my bed and looms over me.
“I’m serious, Grayson. She’s a special young woman. You need to treat her right.” It’s almost like he’s realised how done I am with all this shit. Not sure what’s changed. I put on a stellar performance this week, making it look like things are sweeter than ever between Charlotte and me. He has eyes everywhere, so I haven’t let my guard drop for even a second. I’d given her a bracelet this morning in registration in front of Meghan and a couple of the other girls. They’d practically fucking swooned. It was a nice enough piece of jewellery, and it cost a fair bit. I’d had the saleswoman pick it out, and I doubt I would even recognise it if I saw it again but Charlotte loved it. I’ve already told him about the bracelet, so why the fuck is he on my case again?
He looks antsy. He’s been like this for weeks. As though there’s more resting on mine and Charlotte’s relationship than before. Don’t get me wrong, he’s always a prick. But lately, he’s being even more of a prick than usual.
“It’s not too late to surprise her with an extra gift, you know?” What the fuck is he talking about? He sits at the foot of my bed, his weight near my feet. I’m barely looking at him, but I don’t miss him reaching into his suit jacket pocket and bringing out a small jewellery box. It’s black velvet, and there isn’t much that could fit in a box that size. I bolt upright.
“What is that?”
“It was your grandmother’s. I know she’d want you to have it. To give it to your future wife.” He flips open the lid, and I can see the sparkle from here.
“What the hell? We’re eighteen years old. I’m not asking her to fucking marry me.” I storm over to my wardrobe and start rifling through my clothes for something to wear tonight. The man has lost the fucking plot this time.
“You and Charlotte are a done deal, Son. You can ask her now, or two, five, or ten months down the line, but the result will be the same. May as well just accept it.” I snort. It isn’t the first time he’s mentioned marriage, but I always figured he was talking way into the future. A future I had no intention of being a part of. But a timescale of months? Fuck that.
I used to have every reason to be scared of him. Being on the other end of his fists on more than a few occasions as a defenceless kid had me doing everything possible to stay on his good side. It was a habit so utterly ingrained in my behaviour, I’d long given up acting any other way but compliant around him. But recently I’ve started questioning everything. When exactly did I lose the fire in me? When did I give up on myself completely? The realisation I’m no longer physically intimidated by him anymore hits me like a tonne of bricks. I spin around on my heel and face him.
“You’re full of shit. I’ve gone along with these fucking insane demands of yours for a long time, but I’m done. I’m not doing any more of your dirty work. I’ve been your lackey because I was a kid and had no choice. But did you really think I’d just agree to this, with no explanation, just because you said it was so?” My shoulders shake with the adrenaline rushing through my veins. It’s rare for me to answer him back, and it feels so fucking good.
I turn back to my wardrobe and yank out a couple of shirts, still undecided which one to wear tonight. I throw them on the bed next to my father as he continues to sit there. In the past he would have hit me for that insolence, but he makes no attempt to move towards me. Instead, his hand grips onto the corner of my quilt, the fabric gathered up in his tight fist. His other hand is still clutching the ring box.
He’s hardly an old man, but he’s fucking weaker than me. And he knows it. He slowly closes the ring box before standing to his full height and eyeballing me.
“I don’t appreciate this new attitude, Son. I am going to let it go this once because I’m a reasonable man.” His voice is eerily calm and despite my newfound confidence, it’s unnerving. “But mark my words. You and Charlotte will happen, so you may as well start accepting it.”
With that he calmly places the ring box on my bedside table. I wait until he leaves and shove it in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I know there is more going on than I’m aware of. I’ll get this party out the way and then I’m going to put an end to this for good.
Chapter Twenty
DAHLIA
It takes me half an hour to convince Callie not to change her mind about the party when I finally admit to her we have to wear costumes. Luckily, once she comes around to the idea, she says she already has something we can wear. She also invites me round to her house after school, telling me we can get ready there.
When Dee drops me off at Callie’s front door, my jaw drops. Ho-lee shiiiit. Her house. It’s amazing. It’s like something out of a celebrity homes magazine.
Surrounded completely by tall steel fences, the house can’t be seen from the road, but once I get permission to enter from the security guy at the fence - yes, Callie had failed to mention she has freaking security staff - I’m escorted up to the house. It is huge and super modern, all sharp lines with floor to ceiling glass windows. This place is something else.
I’m still standing out front, admiring its beauty, when the front door slides open. Callie stands in her hallway, motioning me to come in. I jog up the steps and give her a quick hug, my eyes wide, taking in the biggest hallway I’ve ever seen, our footsteps echoing off the marble flooring. I try not to let my jaw drop as I check out the rest of the house.
She ushers me upstairs into her bedroom, and I sit down on the bed as she disappears into a walk-in closet. While I wait to see what she’s got planned for us to wear, I take in her room. It’s decorated much like the rest of the house, in modern blacks, whites and golds with a huge double bed in the middle. A balcony looks out over a vast lawn at the back of the house. Like the front, tall trees also surround the perimeter at the rear, but I can still just about make out the tall fencing with security cameras, too. Callie never did tell me what business her family is in. I wonder if whatever it is, it’s the reason they are so hot on security. Although I guess with Callie here alone sometimes, it makes sense to have good security. I lean back on Callie’s pillows as she calls out, “what size shoe are you?”
“Six,” I shout back. “But I’ll just wear my boots.” Callie appears at the doors of her closet, her arms laden with clothes.
“Your boots won’t work, but it’s fine–you’re the same size as my mum was, so you can wear a pair of hers,” she says absentmindedly as she lays out the clothes on the bed and starts rummaging through them. I’m not sure how to feel about the fact she’s just offered me her deceased mum’s boots? “Okay, this… and …this…” she says, breaking my train of thought. She’s holding out a few scraps of white fabric. I laugh, waiting for her to show me what I’ll really be wearing. She doesn’t laugh back. Oh shit, she’s serious? I slip off the bed and hold out the items she hands me.
“I don’t think so Callie, I’ll freeze my arse off in just this!”
“You’ll be fine. Your legs are way longer than mine so you can’t borrow any of my jeans, it’s going to have to be a skirt. You may as well make it a nice one.” I eye the outfit and decide to humour her and at least try them on. It’ll be a laugh if nothing else. I grab them off her and head into her bathroom to change.
By the time I come out, Callie has also changed. She’s wearing tight black leather trousers that fit like a second skin and a black lace corset.
“Callie, you look hot!” I pretend to fan myself as she giggles.
“Take a look at yourself, Winters.” Putting her fingers to her lips, she wolf whistles at me before she drags me to stand in front of the full-length mirror with her. While Callie is dressed fully in black, I’m the opposite, in a white leather mini skirt and a white lace corset in a similar style to hers.
I barely recognise myself. This outfit is a million miles away from what I would normally wear, but I have to admit it feels good to dress up a bit, and maybe I can pretend to be someone else for a few hours. I feel a pang of sadness as I wonder what my mum would think if she could see me in something other than my usual jeans and t-shirts.
