Page 49 of The Cinderella Prince

“Why are you worried?” I asked for the lack of anything else to say. They probably worried about my future, which was uncertain at the best of times.

Dad exhaled through his nose. “Don’t you think it’s odd to keep us at distance, then just show up in the middle of the night?”

“The bus broke down,” I said. “I didn’t plan to come so late.”

“That’s not the issue, darling,” Mom said, the gentlenessin her voice never faltering. “We’re happy to have you here as much as you’d like to stay. This is your home, Tristan.”

“You’ll always be welcome here, son.”

“But,” Mom said carefully, “it worries us that you seem so…depressed, darling.”

“Not depressed,” I said tiredly.

“We’re not tryin’ to send you away, Tris,” Dad said.

Mom took over. “It’s only that we fear something happened to make you come back like this.”

I inhaled, held my breath, and fought the oncoming tears. Damn them, they always brimmed in my eyes when I least needed them. “I…” My voice snapped, and I pressed my mouth shut, but grief contorted my muscles. Exhaling, I let a shudder pass through me before I tried to speak again. To their credit, my parents didn’t overreact. They hurt for me, but they kept their hurts limited to their faces, their eyes. They didn’t let them dictate their behaviors. “I failed.”

Silence.

I had hoped it would have explained everything, but the word simply wasn’t big enough to convey the depth of my failures.

“I…I failed at everything,” I said.

“Darling,” Mom said in a pained voice that she barely controlled.

“What did you fail at, Tris?” Dad asked, just as concerned but better at keeping it down.

I shook my head. “Everything, Dad. I failed at everything. College, friendships, work. Love. I…I can’t win.” The words tumbled out of my mouth despite my rational wish to shut up and keep it all down. “Everything I ever touched turned to dust. I left you guys because I couldn’t make myself look you in the eyes after dropping out.” Mom and Dad both pressed their mouths shut, but their heads shook a little. They didn’t interrupt me, though. “I ruined my friendships and hurt the people I love and lost the one guy I thought loved me back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom said.

But the dam was broken, and the entire lake of admissions was starting to pour out. “I lied to him. I lied by omission, never telling him about…the accident. Keeping it hidden so he wouldn’t act all sad with me. I know full well how people look at you when they know something tragic about you. I’ve seen it. They offer you their friendship. They offer you jobs you’re not ready to take. And for what? Because something bad happened to someone you loved? Bullshit. I didn’t want his pity. I wanted him to loveme. But…he couldn’t. Not when it cost him so much. So I ruined everything. He left, and I destroyed all my friendships like I destroyed all the chances you gave me.” My tears were no longer satisfied with brimming. They spilled down my cheeks, and I wiped them away angrily. “I’ve made such a mess of my life. Why am I even here? I’m not ready for any of this.” Then, my gaze darted through the blur of tears to the wall where my first-grade portrait was hanging. Next to it, there was Jen’s. “She was smarter,” I whispered, my throat closing. “She was so much smarter. Don’t say she wasn’t. She wouldn’t have failed so bad at everything.” Mom’s chair scraped against the wooden floor loudly, and Dad’s followed. “She would have been brilliant,” I said, choking, though I couldn’t tell if it was a sob that choked me or the tears. When arms wrapped around me—and I couldn’t see whose arms and where they came from—a final gasp filled my lungs. “It should have been me,” I cried.

Words of comfort swirled around me, none sinking into my mind. I heard them, though I didn’t memorize them. I couldn’t repeat them. I could hardly reply to them. I bent forward as they held me and cried like I hadn’t cried in years. I wished, with all my heart, for a window in time to open and for our places to be swapped. I wished Jen had survived instead. She had always been so brave and bright. She would have known what to do. She would have grown up to be a genius. Not like me, a dropout with mediocre cooking skills and little else.

“…son, do you hear me? You’re already everythin’ we…”

Mom’s drowned out Dad’s as she whispered into my ear. “Darling, you are amazing just the way…”

But I heard neither of them, really. Not until the sobs that rocked my body had long passed, and I remained drained of everything, empty, exhausted.

I didn’t remember us moving to my room. I didn’t remember going to bed. Yet when I blinked, my parents sat at the edge of my bed, and I lay on top of the comforter, still dressed in the same clothes. I hadn’t slept, although I had skipped a certain amount of time.

My head hurt. My eyes stung. I was so tired that I thought I could sleep for an eternity, and it wouldn’t be enough.

Mom ran her hand through my hair, and I was embarrassed to realize it had gotten sweaty. She didn’t seem to notice or mind. “…and we love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” I murmured.

Their eyebrows rose high. “Hello,” Dad said.

“Was I…sleeping?” I frowned.

They brushed it off. “You’re safe, baby,” Mom said. She looked at Dad, who cleared his throat. “Tris,” he said, “you’ll get over that young man, okay? And if you don’t, you’ll get him back. Hearts have to be broken from time to time, or we’d all forget we had them.”

Mom brushed my hair with her finger. “But you need to remember that your father and I love you. And we’re proud of you, baby. You’re the sweetest person. Do you know that? We couldn’t be more proud of you if we tried.”

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