Naming it forces Krampus to lose some of his power; he shrinks in size and retracts his claws. The immeasurable weight of stigma falls off my shoulders.
I angle in toward Sarah, steeling myself for her icy-blue eyes beneath blunter-than-blunt bangs. I will not let her steamroll my life for salability any longer. “Since I can’t shut off the spotlight, I want to talk about this publicly—help other people feel less alone. I want to get involved with organizations that uplift queer people who need mental health support and amplify less privileged voices. I’m done pretending having all this means I can just lean on it forever.”
Sarah purses her lips. “We’ll need to go over the approaches, run some tests, see how this might affect the brand.” She spouts off more and more meaningless PR jargon until I can’t stand it anymore. I’m about to speak up when Mom beats me to it.
“Sarah, that’s enough.” She folds her arms across her chest, taking the power stance I learned from her all those years ago. Never have I seen her use it on Sarah—the confidant, the keeper of the secrets, the one who’s been here since the beginning. “You work for ourentirefamily. Not just me and Matthew Sr. If this is what Matthew wants, then do your part to make it happen.”
Sarah’s clipped smile goes loose at the edges. “Anna, I understand you want to support your son. Believe me, mental illness is all the rage right now. We just need to make sure we’re doing it in anorganicway.”
I audibly groan. “I’m not doing this because it’s trendy, Sarah. And, honestly, that’s a messed-up thing to say.”
She stammers, tapping on her iPad as if it contains a reasonable excuse. “I’m sensitive to the issues.”
“Thatwasa messed-up thing to say,” Mom says, coming to my defense, and after a bout of thought, she adds, “I think it’s best if you go.”
It takes all my self-restraint not to stand up and cheer. Like me, Mom has always bowed to Sarah’s word, treating it like law. Now, Mom’s standing up for herself. For me, really.
“Anna, come on. I misspoke.”
Mom is having none of it. “This is a family meeting, Sarah. I’d like it if it were just the family from here on out.”
Sarah huffs an incredulous huff, hesitating and then stuffing her tablet into her expensive red tote. Before she’s out the door, Mom calls, “We can circle back on your place on our team in the new year.”
Sarah doesn’t deign a look back over her shoulder. The door clicks shut behind her.
Good riddance.
“Thank you,” I say to Mom. Her speechlessness speaks volumes. “So, here’s the deal,” I begin before my nerves get fried or the residual anxiety of putting this off becomes unmanageable. “There are three things I need from you both.”
My parents share a concerned look, but allow me to have the floor.
“First, I need access to one of the cars.”
“Sure thing,” Dad says, palming his phone. “We’ll get Maxim—”
I stop him. “One of ours. For me to drive.” It’s clear they aren’t understanding where I’m going with this. I don’t care though. This isn’t for them. “Second, Mom, I will need one of your signedGame of Dark Dissensionfirst editions.” It’s a simple request, so she nods. “And lastly…”
Abruptly, Mom reaches out for Dad’s hand, clearly scared that I’ll write them off forever, and he lets her take it. He even squeezes it. The gesture makes my heart grow three sizes. Even if their marriage is ending, the love they built over the years won’t die. It’ll live on in me. Because of that, I make a silent vow to do right by it.
“I want you to cut up the cards again,” I say.
Loaded silence gives way to rollicking laughter. I know my dramatic flair may have had them prepared for the worst, but come on, this is excessive. They’re laughing as heartily as Grandma and Gramps do together. It’s sweet, if a tad insulting.
Mom composes herself. “Oh, no, Matthew, we’re not laughing at you.” Instantly, the laughter turns to tears. Joyful tears, I think. “It’s just when you asked to meet, we thought… Well, we assumed after what I did, you’d make good on what you said at the Plaza. You’d really want nothing to do with us. And for that to happen after my mistake, I would’ve been gutted.”
I nod, trying to be as understanding as possible. “It’s not forgiveness, all right? Not yet, anyway.” I make sure I’m clear on this point. “I don’t want the accounts back. I don’t want my room here back either. I need my own space, away from all of this for a while. All I want is a new account made under my own name with the extra money you got from the sale of the island. Absolutely nothing more than the extra.”
The extra is enough to support me for some time while I figure out the steps I need to take to live an independent life. What I didn’t budget out for myself, I already have a solid plan for.
Dad speaks up. “That can be arranged, Matthew.” His penchant for numbers relieves me for once.
“Thank you.” I take a mighty deep breath, unburdened after all this time. “Is there anything you’d like to say to me before I go?”
Mom is slow to speak. “Just that I’m sorry again, Matthew. Not knowing you were in a relationship with Hector was not meant to be an excuse for my lies. I never want to stand in the way of you and love.”
Love.Maybe it’s the right word. Maybe I’ll never know. Either way, it’s obvious the apology extends to what happened all those years ago with Lukas as well. She’s opening her eyes to the error of her ways. That’s a solid first step toward—not repairing our relationship exactly, but building a new one perhaps?
“And that we love you, Matthew,” Dad says in an uncharacteristic display of sentimentality. I knew there was a sappy inner life somewhere under those well-tailored designer suits. Maybe his new relationship has excavated a dormant part of him.
