Page 43 of Lost Summer
My mother’s face began to crumple, torn between outrage and sorrow. “Edward, please. Think about what you’re saying. You’re throwing away everything we’ve built for you.”
“Everything?” I remarked, incredulity slipping into my voice. “You mean everything that was built for you. This is my life. I’m not a pawn to be moved on your chessboard anymore.”
Adele’s hand felt warm in mine, a steady reminder that I wasn’t alone in this fight. She was my angel. I turned to her, grounding myself in her presence before facing my parents again.
“Mom, Dad, I’m grateful for everything you’ve provided, but I need to carve my own path. Life doesn’t fit neatly within the box you’ve created, and neither does love.” I could see the flicker of fear in my mother’s eyes, the flicker of something she’d hidden behind years of expectations and appearances.
“Love?” my father scoffed, his voice cutting through the lingering tension like a knife slicing flesh. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Edward. This—a child with Elena hanging like a shadow over you—this’ll ruin you.”
“In what fucking world?” I shot back, struggling to rein in my emotions. “Why would you assume that taking responsibility makes me weak? I’m doing everything I can to break this pattern, this cycle of fear and obligation. It ends with me.”
Adele was tense beside me, but she tilted her head, closing the distance between us. “Edward,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the sharp edges of the confrontation. “It’s okay.”
Her words seemed to ignite a spark within me, reigniting the courage I thought had been washed away by years of their disapproval. I turned to face my parents once more, unwilling to back down.
“You may not understand my choices, but I’ve found someone who sees me for who I am, not for who you want me to be. Adele is a breath of fresh air, a chance for something real, and I’m not ready to let that go.”
“Edward,” my mother started, her voice trembling, “What if this ends badly? What if you’re making a mistake?”
“Then that will be my mistake to make,” I responded, my resolve swelling. “I won’t die a slow death trying to please you. I deserve happiness, and so does my child.”
“Mistakes have consequences.” My father’s jaw clenched, the very mention of consequences a weighty reminder of our family’s past.
“I understand that more than you know,” I replied, my voice low but steady. “But living without authenticity is the biggest mistake of all. I refuse to let fear dictate my life any longer.”
I could see my mother wrestling with her emotions, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she wanted to argue but was caught in the net of her own uncertainty.
Adele’s fingers tightened around mine, and I felt her steady, grounding presence ripple through me. This was my moment—a moment not just for me, but for us.
Just then, a server approached, dangerously oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “What can I get you folks?” he asked, flashing an innocent smile.
I took a deep breath, the tension in my body easing under the mundane interruption. “We’ll have a bottle of the house wine, please,” I said, a hint of defiance slipping into my voice. “And some bread.”
As the server walked away, my mother attempted a softer approach, her features softening at the edges as she sighed. “Edward, if this woman genuinely means something to you, then maybe...maybe we can try to understand.”
I gazed at her while stroking Adele’s hand.
“Good. I suggest you start trying.”
22
TED
The dinner with my parents unfolded like an opera filled with moments of tension, discord, and unexpected glimmers of understanding. As we walked out of the restaurant, I felt a tide of relief wash over me, a heavy weight lifting from my shoulders.
“Maybe you finally got through to them,” Adele said quietly, a hint of hope in her voice as she tucked her hand beneath my arm.
“Maybe,” I replied, my heart still racing from the confrontation, but the air felt different now—less stifling, more open. It was as if a door had been cracked ajar, just enough for a gust of fresh air to seep through.
The night sky stretched above us, stars flickering like distant beacons. I leaned down, brushing my lips against Adele’s temple. “Thank you for being my anchor in there. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
We continued walking, the streets alive with the chatter of bustling nightlife, but now I could finally breathe. The tension I had felt at the table faded with each step away from my parents and their suffocating expectations.
“I think they’ll come around,” Adele stated.
I nodded, though part of me was still dubious. There was a lot of history there, a concoction of unresolved emotions and resentments. “We’ll see,” I replied, although a flicker of cautiousness flickered within me. “One battle at a time.”
As we reached her apartment, the warm glow of light spilled from the windows, welcoming us home. I closed the door behind us with an inward sigh of relief, feeling like I had emerged from a battlefield, bruised but victorious.
