Taking Flight (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

I went straight to Cammie’s bedroom after school the next day. The eight hours had gone by in a blur, as had every moment since my talk with David, really. At breakfast, Wendy had hardly acknowledged my presence, which was a nice preview of what was to come when she finally found out about Cammie and me.

I sat down at Cammie’s desk and withdrew a notebook from my backpack, then snagged a pen out of a cup that rested on the desk. After a moment, I thought better of it and grabbed a pencil instead. I’d need the eraser.

I tore a page out of the notebook, placed it on the desk, and then dated the first line. Once I’d finished that, I moved down a line, pressed my pencil to the paper again, and waited. Minutes passed, and still I couldn’t bring myself to write more.

Soon, the door swung open behind me. “Hey!” Cammie sounded a little out of breath. “Wanna go for a ride out to the clearing? I just got Aerosmith all warmed up.”

“Um…” I glanced from her to the paper in front of me. “I can’t. Homework.”

“Oh, what class?” she asked, and crossed the room to me before I could make up an answer. She leaned over to look down at the paper, saw there was nothing written but the date, and shot me an amused look.

“Essay,” I elaborated before she could ask.

“You can use my computer for that,” she reminded me.

“Has to be handwritten,” I said shortly.

“Oh. That’s weird. Hmm.”

“Yeah, um, it’s for that home economics class I just started.” I turned away from her in my chair, flushing. I really needed to work on my lying.

“Huh.” She didn’t sound convinced, and there was a long pause as I stared down at the paper and willed her to leave. When she spoke next, her tone was gentler. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Don’t think too hard.” She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, and then left the room. I pressed my pencil to the paper again as the door shut behind her.

Dad,

I paused again and moved down a line, then reached up to rub at my face with my free hand. My chest ached. I didn’t want to do this.

I hesitated, and then made a decision. I didn’t want to bullshit some sort of reconciliation letter to my father. When David had given me this assignment, all he’d said was to write a letter to try and establish some sort of understanding with my father. He’d said to reach out to him. I didn’t have to be nice.

The words flowed easily after that.

I’m only writing this because I was made to. I didn’t actually want to contact you, especially after what happened when I tried to call. I know you were drunk and probably didn’t even know it was me, but… well, here I am making excuses for you. I’ll stop that now. I haven’t felt close to you in years and although I want to say you tried your best with me, I know that you didn’t. You’ve been half-assing parenting for as long as I can remember, and I put up with it for so long. I think I might be done.

When I was younger, I looked up to you so, so much. You have no idea. When you weren’t as invested in being around me as I was in being with you, I thought there was something wrong with me. I think deep down, a part of me still wonders if I screwed up somehow. Like maybe if I’d been more worth sticking around for, you’d have been able to make yourself be the father I needed. I can tell myself a hundred times that you were the problem, not me, but I’m not sure I’ll ever lose that insecurity. I want you to know that you did that.

I turn eighteen in March, in case you’ve forgotten, and I get my trust fund money then. As he always planned to, David Marshall will be helping me get that sorted out without me having to go back to Los Angeles. After that, I’m moving to New York. You will never have to see me again, and I will never have to see you again. I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to pay attention to me anymore. If you send me a letter or give me a call, it should be to tell me you’re going to rehab. Otherwise, there’s nothing more I need from you. – Lauren

My hand ached when I put the pencil down, but I felt better. Putting my feelings into words had been strangely cathartic, and I felt at peace with what I’d written. When I’d pictured my future with Caitlyn, Zeke, and Cammie in New York, my father hadn’t been involved at all. If he wasn’t going to change, I really had no reason to keep in touch. Now he’d know that, if he ever bothered to read the letter.

I stood, stretched, and then moved to put my shoes back on, wondering if that offer from Cammie to go to the clearing still stood.
Then
, feeling somewhat dense, I wondered what she’d meant when she’d asked me to go. “Going to the clearing” had been code for something else more often than not lately.

“Idiot,” I muttered hastily, and moved faster, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste to get my shoes on.

* * *

Cammie’s nails left small little half-moon marks on my biceps, and I laughed heartily as I examined them. “Ow. Jeez.”

She swatted at me from beneath me, red-faced and still breathing hard. “Shut up!”

“The
abuse
.” I pursed my lips and shook my head at her in disapproval. “What would your parents think?”

“Ew. No. We are so not talking about my parents right now.” She shoved me off of her and I collapsed beside her, grinning. She straightened her clothing and then rolled over to face me, surprising me by leaning in and kissing me deeply. I was halfway on top of her again before she stopped me, her tone gentle. “Mm, wait.”

I blew my hair out of my face, frowning. “What?”

She brushed it away for me, tucking it behind my ear. Then she cupped my cheek in her hand. “You don’t wanna talk about your essay?”

I deflated. “That was an awful lie. You didn’t have to pretend to believe me.” I flattened myself against her, resting my chin on her stomach and looking up at her.

“I figured it’d be good for you, whatever it was. It took me a few minutes afterward to figure out you were probably writing to your dad.”

“I’m sending it tomorrow,” I told her.

“That’s good. If you feel good about it, I mean.”

“I think I do.” I paused, and then amended, “Yeah. I do. I told him I don’t need him around unless he goes to rehab.”

She sat up, forcing me off of her. I moved to sit next to her as she watched me. “You seem pretty nonchalant.”

I shrugged. “Well, it’s out of my hands. I wish things could be different, but it’s been a long time and nothing’s changed. Nothing’s worked with him. If he cares, he’ll make an effort. If he doesn’t… well, I feel like I’ve done all I can. You can’t force change on someone who doesn’t want it.”

She watched me for a moment, her legs pulled to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. She smiled. “I love you.”

“
I
love
you
.”

She grinned, her eyes bright, and then chewed on her lip for a few seconds. “So what’ll it be like if I go to New York with you?” she asked.

“Truthfully?” I began, and she nodded her head.

“Paint me a picture. Warts and all.”

I smiled back at her. “Okay. Totally realistically… Well, if you come along, we wait until after graduation to go. So I get my trust fund, move some money over to Caitlyn’s bank account so she and Zeke can afford the first few months of expenses. They get us an awesome place: three bedrooms at the very least, and a great view of the city.”

“We’d share a bedroom?” Cammie cut in.

“Hell yeah. We do now, anyway. And I know you’d want something with big windows, so I’d tell Caitlyn to look for that. We’d make sure to be close to the art school you’ll be getting into shortly. Zeke will have a steady job already set up, and Caitlyn and I will get jobs, too. Waitress or bartending jobs at first, but they’ll get better. Maybe I’ll try acting or something since it’s in my blood; I don’t know.”

“Would you enjoy that?” she asked me.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of still figuring out what I wanna do with my life,” I admitted. “I have the money to do anything, so the only thing to really figure out at this point is
what
to do. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t know right now. Maybe in a couple years I’ll try college out.” I shrugged. “Anything could happen.”

“Your friend doesn’t want to go to college?” Cammie asked. “Caitlyn?”

“You know, I’m actually not sure. I’m thinking maybe not, given that she was so willing to go all the way to New York, but maybe she actually had the time to apply somewhere there. The only thing that’s a guarantee with Caitlyn is that there
will
be a lot of partying, but you’d fit right in with that, as I recall. However, I’ll never get blackout drunk again. I won’t end up like my dad. I guess, all in all, I just expect it to be like a new beginning. There’s no solid plan, and honestly, I’m financially secure enough not to need one.”

“You’re lucky,” she murmured.

I scoffed. “Oh, like I’m not gonna help you out too?”

“You don’t need to help me,” she told me. “I’m not with you for that.”

“I know. But it’s a perk. I’m helping Caitlyn and Zeke too, until they can get jobs. You could get one too. Waitress nights or something and go to class in the daytime. If it gets to be too much, I’ll be your fallback plan.”

“I’d like that,” she admitted and leaned over to rest her head on my shoulder.

“Shall we paint a picture of your post-high-school life in Collinsville?” I asked, sweeping my arm dramatically across the clearing.

“Please, god, no,” she replied, wincing. “I applied to two local schools and I’m dreading getting the acceptance letters, because the instant I do, the pressure will be on from Mom. And I’ll feel even worse if I don’t get into art school.”

“That’s not happening,” I assured her.

“Be realistic,” she insisted. “It could.”

“Well, if it does, we go to New York anyway and you keep trying, because it’s what you love,” I said simply. “How about that?”

“That sounds nice,” she mumbled, tilting her head to kiss my neck. “And scary. But nice.”

I wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her tight, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Just give me the word and it’s a plan. Caitlyn doesn’t come for another month and a half.”

She nodded against me, and I felt her exhale against my shoulder. “I’ll let you know.”

* * *

I went outside after school the following day to put my letter to my father in the Marshall’s mailbox. I’d offered to let David read it, but he shook his head and told me he was satisfied that I’d written anything at all. Then he’d asked me if I wanted to send it, which had surprised me. What mattered to him was that I’d written it.

I decided to send it anyway. I meant every word I’d written, and I felt at ease with this being the final chapter in my relationship with my father, if the alternative was to keep painfully chugging along like we had been.

When I opened the mailbox to put my letter in, there were several pieces of mail inside that hadn’t been collected by the Marshalls yet. I took them out and sifted through them, curious, and then paused at the next to last letter. The return address was in New York. This was Cammie’s letter from her art school.

I folded that one up and put it in my coat pocket, and then looked to the one behind it. It, too, was addressed to Cammie. This was one of the two other colleges she’d applied to.

I carried the mail inside, where Wendy stood in the kitchen making dinner while David finished tidying up the living room and Cammie set the dinner table. “Mail,” I announced.

Wendy heaved a sigh and moved to me. “Oh, thank God. They were late today.” She snatched the stack from me without looking at me, but I kept a tight grip on Cammie’s letter.

When Wendy looked to me expectantly, I elaborated, “This one’s for Cammie. It’s from a college.” I offered it to Cammie, whose eyebrows rose in surprise as Wendy let out an excited gasp beside me.

“Oh, Cammie, open it!”

“We’re about to have dinner,” she pointed out, looking uncomfortable. I felt bad about bringing the letter in then, and wished I hadn’t said anything.

David appeared between Cammie and me and rested an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “We can wait. Go ahead.”

“…Alright.” Her expression carefully controlled, Cammie opened the rather thick envelope and withdrew the letter inside. She unfolded it, scanned it, and then, almost disconcertingly, sprouted a smile and announced, “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted—”

Wendy let out an excited shriek, and I winced as she wrapped her arms around Cammie, who hugged her back with just as much enthusiasm. “Oh, honey, this was the one we wanted most, too! Now we have nothing to worry about!”

David, beside them, had an uncertain smile on his face, like Cammie’s excitement had rattled him just as much as it had rattled me. That was unsurprising, given that he knew about Cammie’s application to art school and that she’d be in New York in an instant if Wendy gave her the go-ahead.