“If you could just stop by?—”
I pop out of my seat, standing to leave before the conversation can go any further.
I have no interest in entertaining whatever garbage he’s about to spout about the reconciliation of our broken family.
Whether my mother’s organs are failing one by one or all at once, it makes no difference to me. I wouldn’t blink twice if she dropped dead in front of me this very second, and that is no one’s fault but her own.
I have always thought of death as the ultimate release,the great equalizerthat brings a poetic finality to all our stories. She should consider herself well and truly lucky that an existence as pathetic as hers evenhasan end, but I’m sure she believes some aberrant BS about this not being the end at all… and if somehow thatistrue, I hope she spends all of eternity in tortured regret for the life she chose to live while she had it.
Same for my douche of a dad.
I’m halfway to the door before he’s out of his seat and rounding on me. He grips my shoulder, something he always does—a petty show of dominance—and it pisses me off every single time. I used to think a pat on the shoulder each time we met was his way of showing his affection, but the older I’ve gotten the more rough he’s become.
Not that a shoulder pat is an adequate affection to show a child, but when that’s all you’ve ever known, you take what you can get.
“Don’t walk out on me, Quinn. This might be the time you regret it.”
I jerk away from him and keep walking.
Just because I share his DNA, he thinks he can push me around and make me do whatever he wants. That’s never been the case, and I’m not about to break now.
He forfeited the possibility of a relationship with meyearsago.
They both did—him by choosing the disgusting company he keeps over his family, and my mother for supporting him in thename of her precious reputation; the type of notoriety that does more harm than good when all is said and done.
The damage they inflicted upon me as a child is far worse than anything they could do to me now, but the farther away from both of them I am, the better.
He’s long dangled my trust fund over my head to keep me in line, and while I want it, I’ve made it this long without his money. I’ll finally graduate soon and can legally claim it, cutting ties with him for good. It’s so close, I can actually taste the freedom.
There’s a small part of me that doesn’t care whether or not I ever see a dime from him if it also means never having to seehimagain.
But I have played his games for this long; I attend the school he wants me to attend. I come when he calls despite the fact I don’t always do what he asks once I get there. May as well see it through; it’s more money than I’ll ever see in academia and I can’t say the thought of that isallnegative.
As my fingers curl around the doorknob, I glance back at him. His jaw is tight, his gaze unflinching.
“We both know there’s literallynothingyou can say that would make me any more inclined to give a fuck.” I shove the door open and let it slam shut behind me. The sound echoes through the now-empty hallway, and I don’t look back.
Marshall
The parking garage across the street from my office is deserted by the time I finally drag myself away from the day's shit. The dim, echoing emptiness mirrors the bitterness gnawing at me after another futile clash with Quinn. Her stubbornrefusal to acknowledge her family is infuriating. My wife’s time is running out, and though my daughter doesn’t know it, so is mine.
All Quinn has to do is endure a few months of family obligations.
But, no.
She brushes off her mother's illness as if it’s a trivial inconvenience.
Less than.
She has no desire to reconcile with either of us despite my many efforts to make amends.
Maybe she really does loathe us both as deeply as she claims.
I have a lot of regrets in my life. I don’t regret the money I’ve made or the comfortable life it’s given my wife, but I deeply regret the things I did to get that wealth. I regret not being there for my daughter and the choices I made, like just giving her up to live with her aunt when she was a child.
At the time, it seemed like a no-brainer. I wanted everyone, especially The Assembly, to think I didn’t care about her. It was my way of keeping her out of their spotlight and away from any potential danger.
Not to mention the fact that my life was a lot easier without a child in the picture, and my secrets were safer when they were kept just out of reach.
