“We’re moving to Bipal, in Florida. Maribel has a business there, and I can work at Beaumont Industries from anywhere, so it makes sense thatwego tothem.”
I yank my hand out of his. I step away from this news and him, the back of my legs hitting the edge of my bed. “It doesn’t make sense to me. I haveone yearleft at Dover. My senior year. I’m going away to college in a year. It can’t wait one single year? You absolutelyhaveto uproot our lives right now to get married?” I realize as the words litter the space between us that he hasn’t actually said we’re leavingnow. I take a breath, shaking my head, leveling my palm between us. “I’m sorry, you didn’t say we’re leavingnow. I just assumed. That was wrong of me. I overreacted.” I look up, holding his gaze. “Congratulations is where I should have started.”
He drops his head, and that sinking feeling returns to my gut. When he looks up at me a moment later, the answer is written all over his face.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, “itishappening now. We are leaving, aren’t we?”
“I got an offer on this place, forty thousand over asking if we can close this month. The money will be yours once you’re in college, and it will help make a better freshman year experience for you when you get there.”
“I have a scholarship!” I scream, having an out of body experience because I have never once screamed or even so much as raised my voice at my father. I’ve never wanted to. I’ve never been that mad at him. “And you’re a millionaire!” I exclaim.
“College is expensive, scholarship or not. And you know I don’t want to raise you reliant upon my finances. When I die, everything goes to you, Vivienne, make no mistake. But I didn’t get wealthy by needlessly blowing money.” He steps closer, and as much as I want to step away from him, I don’t. “What I earn on the house can go into your college living account. Extra money in your account will be a good thing. You’ll see. You’ll want to enjoy college, and if you use the money right, you can get through your first two years without having to work. You can focus on school and the college experience.” He reaches out, cupping my face with his palm, his thumb stroking my cheek. There are more lines around his eyes, and a little bit of salt and pepper in his hair now. He’s not old, but he’s aging, and when I think of him missing out on a second chance at marriage and happiness because I don’t want to move, it makes me sad. He’s done so much for me, he’s not got a whole life stretched ahead of him like I do.
“Okay,” I reply, my voice thin and quiet. I’ve lost all my excitement, all of my energy. “So I finish high school in Florida.”
He nods. “There’s a private academy there, Dulce, much like Dover that you’ve already been accepted to. You start in a week.”
“A week?!” I balk, “I thought we had a month.” I understand we’re going, but moving in a week like we’re escaping the law feels dramatic. “Why does it have to be so quick?”
“It’s better you start as close to the beginning of the school year as possible. The haste is for you, trust me, Viv. This is a good thing.” He drops his hand, and returns it to his pocket.
“I haven’t… I haven’t even met her son or, or, I don’t know. I haven’t seen photos of her house and I don’t know anything about Bipal. I don’t have clothes for Florida.” Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to make him feel sad about moving but then again, in equal measure, I kind of do. This is my last year. Mysenioryear. “Why can’t we wait until the end of the year?”
“I just told you, dear,” dad says softly. “I’m sorry to uproot you, but we are moving. I’ve hired people to pack so you can enjoy your week. But come Friday, we’ll be flying to Bipal at seven in the morning.”
My bottom lip trembles and I swipe tears off my cheeks. I don’t look at him, I don’t finish my coffee. I don’t do anything but stand there, processing that this isn’t my last year at Dover, it’s my lastweek.
“Meet me at the car in ten. You don’t want to be late.” He pats my bicep, then squeezes my shoulder, trying his best to be consoling. When he leaves the room, I sinkdown onto my bed, catching my forehead between my hands.
I don’t want to move to Bipal, but I want dad to be happy. It’s just one year. I’ll get through one year and go away to college.
I can pretend to be happy for one year for my dad’s sake.
Chapter Two
Vivienne
“It’s coastal property, right on the beach. And Bipal has great shopping, not to mention, it’s known for its great seafood. And Maribel and her son are part of a social club, Clear View. She says it’s an incredible place that you’ll love,” Dad says, flipping down his lap tray in his airplane seat. My stomach roils as nerves twist me up.
“First time flying?” the flight attendant questions as she rolls her drink cart down our aisle.
I shake my head. “No.”
Dad pats my leg. “It’s going to be good. You’re going to like it.” He looks up at the flight attendant. “Scotch for me, Coke for her.”
I look up at the woman, her dark hair pinned in a neat bun at the base of her head, a tiny blue cap on the side of her part. “I’ll have coffee,” I correct, not because I want coffee, but I don’t want him to control everything.
She passes us napkins and drinks, and I put my EarPods in, not wanting to hear all the reasons why this move is actually something for me to be excited about. Maybe I will like Bipal. But right now, with a backpack full of goodbye cards at my feet and nothing but open sky all around me, I don’t want to hear that. All I want to do is listen to my Lana Del Rey and zone out.
I’ve metMaribel a few times in the last year. She flew to California once and stayed with us for a long weekend, but because she is a CEO and business owner, getting away was very difficult for her. Moving in with her is still strange, even if she’s not a total stranger. I just never thought I’d have to get used to someone else’s space. I’ve only been here for a day, so I realize it’s all still so new. But even so, I feel like I have to ask permission for everything. It feels rude not to ask. But when I asked if I could turn on the television, Maribel laughed.
“It’s your television as much as mine. You live here now,” she’d said, earning a gracious hug from my father, who then kissed the top of her head.
Seeing him affectionate with her is new to me, and it’s just another thing I’m acclimating to. I’m happy for him, and that is one truth I cling to because his happiness is important to me. It is. And I want this to work for him. I love my dad. I want good things for him.
Still, everything is foreign to me right now, and I hate that. This was supposed to be my last year of high school filled with cutting class, drinking in the orchards,wearing matching SENIORS shirts with my friends, and–most importantly–getting some.
I didn’t have a boyfriend in California, but the boys at Dover knew I was ready. If I wasn’t going to lose my virginity, I was at least hoping to give a blow job before college. Maybe even let a boy go down on me.
