Page 28 of 'Til You Choke
“Yes, well,” he says, sounding almost flustered, “After tonight, I can’t wait that long. I’d like it to happen sooner.”
“As in during this week?” That’s still not as bad as it could’ve been. Sure, it means leaving our house in thecity, close to school and work behind, but I’m sure the Crawfords have apartment blocks that can be used if the need arises.
“As in tomorrow.” The way he says it tells me I don’t have a choice. He’s bringing it up as a formality. “The mansion has more than enough room to accommodate discretion and privacy, if that’s what you’re worried about. You could spend hours away without anyone ever knowing where you’ve gone to.”
Colter snorts at my side, and then, for the first time all night, his jaw tenses up. It’s as if he’s biting his tongue from saying something. I’m sort of happy to see it, knowing I’m not the only one who was caught off guard by this.
“Thank you.” It comes out of nowhere. There is no acceptance or disapproval in my response, just two words that can be taken in any way they choose to see it. I’m trying my hardest to say nothing more.
Moving in was an inevitability I prepared for weeks ago. Sure, I thought I had more time to get accustomed to the idea, but in the end it won’t change anything. It just means that tonight will be the last night I spend in the home I love. The one Mom and Dad raised me in.
The thought leaves a tightness in my chest. There won’t be any catharsis at the end of the road. No traveling down memory lane in the days leading up to our departure. It will all have to be done in a hurried mess, with no time to dwell on the past.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” Mom responds, her voice shrill and excited, filling the void my response left.
There’s a lot I’d like to say to her rhetorical question.
No, being foremost. I would like to confess the frustration of his offer after that. It was loaded right from the start. Only rather than being backed into a corner, it’s happening in a mansion. I am being forced to smile and appear happy when all I want to do is cry.
A war rages inside me. Some part of me understands how this move is a good thing. I know that my dissatisfaction makes me seem bratty and obnoxious. But another side, the part I lean on harder, hates everything about it. It whispers that the shift is some type of grand tragedy that will end in suffering and woe.
Melodramatic as it might be, the longer I sit on it, the more I regret sayingthank youand even entertaining the idea for more than a second. I can see it’s a wonderful idea, but for her, not me. I may not be seasoned and wise to the world, but I am old enough to make my own decisions and choices.
So, saying the first thing that comes to my mind is a bad choice. Now is the time to protest quietly, while preparing for what lies ahead. No good will come of airing my grievances here tonight.
“Thank you,” I say again, hearing unsteadiness in my words. “This is an incredibly generous offer and opportunity, Sir.”
“Sir?” He looks at me as if I’m crazy for saying it. “No, no, none of that. Call me Alistair, or Al. Anything butSir.”
Colter still hasn’t moved. His icy eyes flicker indecisively.
He seems almost anguished.
Then it hits me.
Colter is already staring at me as if I’m some kind of trophy he wants mounted on his wall. How’s he going to react when we’re living under the same roof together? Will his fascination endure, I wonder. Will it become stronger and more pervasive until every thought I have returns to those panty-drenching golden eyes.
Or will it flicker and fade like a flame in the wind.
I don’t pray often, but this is as good a time as any. And if you’re up there, and if you’re listening, please tell me why I want it to be the first one…
With my acknowledgement, Alistair drops back in his chair. Mom squeals in delight, swinging her arms around him for an uncomfortable table hug. They go back to their quiet conversation, no doubt discussing the move.
Colter takes a few more long minutes to process what his father has just said.
“Looks like you’re in it now,” he finally speaks after quiet contemplation. Strangely, he keeps his eyes focused away from me this time. As if he can’t bear the thought of looking at me. Either he doesn’t want to, or he is disgusted by the idea altogether.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I’d rather go back to his attempts at idle chatter and small talk than this.
“Seems that way.”
Our night wraps up shortly after Alistair’s announcement and the men walk us out. Alistair and Mom lead the way, Colter and I trailing a few feet behind. And again, he only looks straight ahead. Not focusing on anyone or anything in particular, stomping ahead blindly, lost in thought.
Once down the stairs and across the gravel driveway, I find myself longing for his gaze. Sure, it creeped me out a little in the beginning. It’s not every day someone’s brazen enough to drink you in as if they don’t have a care in the world. But I liked it more when I was the moody grump, and he was trying to brighten my spirits.
Whateverthisis terrifies me.
