What am I going to do?
Chapter 15
Sometimes we wake up thinking that this is our day. We wake up thinking that we’re going to make use of it to the fullest- that we’re not going to waste time like we did yesterday, and we’re going to enjoy it. Optimism isn’t a crime, not at all, but we seem to forget –at times- that we do not control everything- that everything isn’t in our hands. Plans may be ruined, goals may not be reached, happiness may not be granted, and that’s why I can fairly say that this certainly wasn’t Adam Sanderson’s day.
Not when he woke up to the sight of his Porsche wrecked up- a man-made wrecking.
Today, while we were having our usual breakfast, Lexi showed up at Adam’s front door -for a few seconds- with a pale, white face as if she’s seen a ghost. She was passing by his house as she was heading towards a hypermarket to get the groceries that her mom wanted, when she saw it, and that’s why she stopped by: to let us know before she left again. At first she kept her lips sealed with a hand resting on her head in distraught, not knowing how to explain to us what happened. I have to say that her actions caused my head to run over the worst possible scenarios to what might’ve happened. My nerves began itching at the thought that something awful might’ve happened to my parents or Trevor, but when Lexi simply pointed to the direction outside the house, I didn’t know what to think.
Adam’s black Porsche can no longer be called a car. During a time lapse of an hour –probably at night when the entire neighbourhood was fast asleep- the luxurious Porsche transformed into a piece of junk. At the sight of at least five deep dents into his car, the glass of the windshield and all four windows shattered over the floor and the passenger’s door unhinged to the car, I was surprised Adam’s reaction wasn’t more than a clench of a jaw. It was as if he expected something like that to happen.
“What’s that?” I’m surprised that my eyes caught glimpse of the small piece of folded paper, which was tucked below the wipers of the car’s windshield.
Lexi has already left after we saw what happened, so it was just Adam and I for now. I pull out the note from under the wipers. Approaching me with a glint of curiosity in his eyes, Adam furrows his eyebrows. As if granting my permission, he nods, asking me silently to open it. With him standing behind me, my shaking fingers slowly unfold the note until it becomes wide open with its clear familiar handwriting that I could point out anywhere.
My heart beats drum in my chest hardly, and heat crawls up my neck from the anger, the embarrassment and the mortification at what my eyes are making out. With the paper in my left hand, I cover my mouth with my right hand in absolute shock. I don’t look up; I don’t face him, for what can I say? How can I explain such actions?
Please accept this simple gift. We warned you to stay away from my daughter, and you still didn’t. If I don’t hear from my daughter throughout the next week, you’ll not like what’ll happen. Oh and Adam, be grateful the men we hired didn’t wreck you up instead of your car.
Best regards,
Mr. George Williams
“Adam, I don’t know what to tell you; I’m so sorry.” My face is directed to the dark grey rough ground, too embarrassed on my parent’s behalf to look at him that I feel like I’m going to start crying.
After a few minutes of complete and utter silence, he exhales softly. “It is not your fault.”
“Yes, it is- it’s my fault,” I finally look him in the eyes, hoping he could pick up my genuinely pained expression. “If I weren’t here, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Evangeline, listen to me.” His anger fades in an instant and morphs into seriousness. “You shouldn’t take the blame for other people’s mistakes- no matter how close they are to you. This.” He points to the shattered glass before pressing on the fact. “Is your parents fault- not yours.”
“Do you want me to leave?” I blurt out, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden because I have no place to go if Adam won’t let me stay here- except for a hotel maybe, but at the same time, I feel that he’ll be better off without me.
“What?” He looks at me like I’m insane before his expression softens. “No, of course not. Listen, I kind of figured your father’s going to do something like that. Stay for as long as you want.”
I let out a breath of relief, “I’m so sorry, Adam- I really am. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, but you can have my car anytime you want to u—”
“Evangeline, it’s okay.” He presses on the word ‘okay’. “I have enough money to buy a new Porsche if I like; I’m just mad that they think it’s okay to do something like that and get away with it.”
Of course he has; he’s the son of Gabriel Sanderson after all, but still, just because he has enough money- just because he’s rich enough- doesn’t mean it’s okay with my parents to mess with him like that, and for what? For not answering their calls. Here he is, kindly asking me not to take the blame for my parent’s cruelty, while they’re putting the blame on him- a stranger- for my own mistakes.
“Will you
