Page 15 of New Growth
I felt the threat of my heart exploding in my chest and taking my lungs with it.
“What am I allowed to be upset about, Ma? I can’t cry about Daddy’s death, and now I’m not allowed to be upset with this betrayal. So tell me, what emotion am I allowed to show right now?”
Her eyes lowered into a squint that warned me to reel in the dramatics. “No one is saying you aren’t allowed to be upset, Elliot. I am simply saying to get a hold of yourself. Now is not the right time to discuss this.”
“When is the right time, then?” I demanded. “After the wedding? After they destroy my life completely?”
“Ryan’s been going through so much lately,” she said, her tone placating. “You know how fragile she is. I’m sure this was just a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “She fucked my fiancé, Ma. She ain’t fragile, she’s a spoiled brat who’s out of control.”
“Elliot,” she warned. “She’s still your sister.”
My face fell.
“Huh,” I stared at her. “So that’s it then? You’re taking her side?”
Her silence was answer enough.
That night, I realized the truth: the parent who cared about me had died. And I would never be the same.
Reset.
Oneweek.Sixdays.Fourteen hours.
That’s how long it had been since what was left of my life fully collapsed in on itself. And in all that time, I hadn’t left this bed much. My room had become a prison of my own making. Crumpled tissues, empty wine glasses, the scent of despair, and discarded takeout boxes were my only companions.
I stared at the ceiling, the familiar crack in the plaster above mocking me. I hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours at a time. When I did, my dreams were no escape—they replayed that night on an endless loop, dragging me back to the moment I opened that door and found Daddy.
As if that wasn’t traumatic enough, I’d close my eyes and see Johnathan and Ryan staring back at me. I was haunted by the look on their face. In those eyes of regret, I never saw remorse for what they had done or how they had hurt me. It was always a look of guilt from finally getting caught. I tortured myself wondering how long their affair would have carried on if I had never found out.
A buzzing sound pulled me from my thoughts. My phone was vibrating on the nightstand again. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. It had been like this since the engagement party: Ma and Johnathan, calling, texting, and leaving voicemails, each trying to pull me back into the chaos in their own way.
I wasn’t ready.
Their circus could perform another night without this clown.
The phone buzzed again.
This time, I rolled over and grabbed it. My mother’s name flashed on the screen. I let the call go to voicemail, just like the fifty-seven others she’d left this week. A notification popped up right after. A new voicemail. I sighed, opening the app and hitting play.
“Elliot, it’s your mother,” she began, her tone sharp, as though I needed reminding of who she was. “You haven’t been answering any of my calls, and I don’t think it’s healthy to isolate yourself like this. Ryan is devastated, and Johnathan—well, he’s been trying to reach you, too. You can’t avoid this forever. We’re family, Elliot. You need to fix this—”
Fix this? I needed to fix this?
The words sparked something bitter in me.
Fix what?The pain of Daddy’s death? My sister and fiancé sneaking around behind my back? Or the fact that no one—not even my own mother—seemed to think I had a right to be angry about any of it?
In moments like these, I wondered what Daddy would do.
Would he reprimand Ryan for her behavior? Or play neutral to keep the peace?
I was almost certain he wouldn’t get as involved as my mother was, nor would he expect me to fix this by myself. He’d tell us to ‘work it out as sisters’, and that would be that.
I sighed at the thought and deleted the voicemail.
My phone buzzed again almost immediately. This time, it was Ryan.
