Lil and Jorge were also there, though they both headed for the hills when the vomit started flying. It was a good thing, too, especially since Lil was in one of her famous skimpy getups and Jorge was plastered on mojitos. Mom would’ve flipped if Bridget mentioned it.
“You went to the premier society event of the year with a man, and you two are on the front page of every paper from here to Cape Cod. I’ve had friends ask me who your partner is. After all I’ve done for you, you at least owe me the truth, Keely.”
At that, I set my fork down and pushed my seat out, giving each of my nephews a quick rub on the head before stepping away from the table. I ignored the calls my way as I headed to the foyer, grabbing my bag from the catch-all table before exiting the front door.
“Keely!” Dad called, bursting through behind me. “You can’t just walk out of family dinner!”
I paused at the base of the stairs, staring up at the one person who was always in my corner, tears blurring the sharp edges of his face. “I’ve had enough for one day, Dad.” I’d had enough for a lifetime, but taking her guff in spurts somehow made it more palatable. Piled on top of the whirlwind inside surrounding Ethan, it was too much.
He stepped down, reaching to take my hands in his. “She loves you, Keely. She’s just..she’s difficult, honey. You know that. She’s having a really hard time with you growing up.”
“Then why am I always reminded of how much she’s done for me? Like picking me out of a catalog was a favor I’ll forever be in her debt for?”
His head snapped back in horror at my words. “Keely!”
“It’s true! She bought me like a pair of shoes to fit in with the in crowd!” Tears came raining down along with the truth, the reality that she adopted a little girl like a puppy when it was all the rage. I was her dress-up doll for a while, memories of lacy dresses and beauty pageants all I had regarding my earliest years as a Doyle.
He squeezed my hands, his face stricken as he looked down at me. “That’s not true. We’re your parents. We didn’t pick you. You came to us like the blessing that you are.”
I shook my hands from his. How could he sympathize with her? Why was he always defending her at her worst? “Sure it is. Little brown girls were so in back then. She just had to have one.”
He reached for me, but I dodged the impending hug, done with him cleaning up her messes. His arms crossed on his chest instead, grief pooling in his eyes. “Honey, we love you. You’re our daughter.”
Eighteen years of grief were pouring out of me over a silly argument, and in a way it felt ridiculous, but it’d been a long time coming. There were only so many shots I could take before I finally broke.
“You love me. I’m your daughter. You’ve always treated me like your own, but I’ve never been anything more than a prop to her. She can’t even look at me without being disgusted that I’m not her perfect little doll.”
“Enough!” he roared, the first time he’d ever raised his voice at me with such rage. His whole demeanor changed from sadness to anger, face flushing red.
“You’re right; I’ve had enough.” I fled to the sidewalk. He could take her side all he wanted, but I didn’t need to stick around for it.
Keely
Ethan didn’t call, but my parents did.
Both of them. Dozens of times.
The chiming started almost as soon as I left and continued straight into the next day at work. I let the calls go to voicemail and ignored the influx of texts, allowing them to soak in the mess of their making. Maybe if they had time to think and talk, they’d learn something. I doubted it, but it was worth a shot.
The work day went by slowly with no tabloid-toting madmen in sight. In fact, I’d only had two visitors all day, the basement office so quiet it was creepy. It gave me plenty of time to read and knock out homework but did little to keep my mind off of the six-foot-five elephant in the room.
Not only had he not called; he hadn’t texted. It was radio silence on his end, a response not even trickling in from the text I’d sent after he left my apartment.
I hadn’t told Jorge or Lil about any of it, unsure what it all was, so I couldn’t confide in either of them, leaving me to suffer in silence through my shift.
Once quitting time hit, I was out the door, climbing the stairs like a madwoman to escape the nothingness. The sidewalks were swimming with similar cases, business-casual clad bodies in a mad rush toward the T. I headed to the coffeeshop instead, needing a little pick-me-up before braving the crowds at the station to head home and finish yet another writing assignment.
There wasn’t much of a line, and as I waited for my drink, I pulled out my cell, disappointed to see nothing from Ethan but a whole lot of family nonsense. My heart sank, so I slipped it back in my handbag, hoping out of sight out of mind would kick in sooner rather than later.
“Cinnamon dolce latte for Keely!” The barista slid the fuel to my paper-writing madness across the counter, the cardboard cup right at home in my hand.
Just as promptly as I lifted it, it was knocked away, an elbow cruelly whacking it to the ground. The lid popped off as it sprayed across the floor. I could’ve screamed in frustration, but I didn’t, too shocked to move but thankful that no one
