Page 20 of Shamed
My concentration has been shit. Everything has been shit.
I’m distracted, anxious, and alone ninety percent of the time.
People from my town have spent the past year whispering about me, while classmates at college and even some friends seem to stop speaking when I enter the room.
I’m the girl who was sexually assaulted.
I’m the girl who had something so private become a household cautionary tale.
I’m the damaged goods.
I’ve never felt more lonely and so unseen. At least, unseen for who I am on the inside.
And besides all that, there are the inner struggles that have plagued me over the past year, the things that keep me up at night, causing insomnia.
Dad called me here to one of his Chicago locations on a Saturday, not giving me an option to refuse. I knew he’d eventually bring this up, but even so, I wasn’t prepared for it today.
“I’m aware.”
Another huff. “That’s all you have to say? I shouldn’t have let you choose that ridiculous animal nonsense.”
Heat rises on my cheeks. “A degree in animal sciences is not nonsense. Do you honestly think I’ve just been playing around this whole time?” I can’t believe that after everything I’ve gone through and everything he’s seen, he still doesn’t understand. “I’m trying, Dad. I just . . . Working on a business degree instead would not have helped.”
Dad unbuttons his suit jacket, pressing his elbows onto his desk and clasping his hands under his chin. “I just don’t know what to think.”
I want to yell at him to think about me and what I need.
Rising to his feet, he walks around his desk to stand next to me. A hand on my shoulder is the closest thing to a hug from him, and even though touch now brings on a wave of itchiness that I want to escape from, I find myself leaning into it as he gently squeezes.
How ridiculous it is that all I want to do is turn in my seat and wrap my arms around his middle, burying my face in the warmth of his slightly protruding stomach while crying out a year’s worth of pain.
A hug. That’s all I want from him right now. A soothing hand on my back, telling me that everything will be all right.
But his hand slips from my shoulder, and the moment passes.
My dad never had any siblings, and his father was just as business-oriented as my father is now. He’s not a bad man; he just doesn’t know what to do with a girl who wanted a different path for herself—and a troubled girl at that.
When my mother decided to move to the city for her career seven years ago, there was no animosity between them—he respected her drive to achieve her goals. But he did insist on keeping me in Plainfield, and she didn’t fight him on it.
“I’ll give you another six months,” he says, leaning against the edge of his desk. “If your grades don’t improve, we’ll have to make some changes.” Rubbing a hand over his face, he looks down at me, a brief flicker of softness before it’s gone. “You may end up working here after all while taking some online classes.”
“But what about my dreams? I want to be a veterinarian, Dad.”
He looks at me pointedly, as if to say, “Why do you think we’re having this conversation?” then, folds his arms. “If your grades don’t improve, it won’t be an option for you, anyway. But I’ll tell you what, if you work here, I’ll make some connections with some local animal shelters, and you can volunteer or something in your spare time.”
I want to argue more, but he pays for everything—my entire life, really. And how can I argue when he really is trying to provide a future for me, and when he thinks he’s doing what’s best?
There’s a knock on his office door, which means I’m no longer his focus.
With a few strides, he’s there, pulling it open. I hate that my father’s face looks pleased when he sees Dylan standing on the other side, and they immediately start chatting like old buddies.
Dylan’s blue eyes land on me, and I internally cringe, even as a touch of jealousy peaks its head over their easy relationship.
Dylan is doing all the things that I’m supposed to be doing for the company, stretching his hands into every aspect of the business, and no doubt Dad probably secretly wishes he was his son.
Dad ushers him inside and walks to the other side of his desk, opening his laptop. “Jennifer and I were just finishing up.”
With that dismissal, I push to my feet, my lips pressed together.
