With my heart in my throat, I push the button to call him back. I really don’t want to face him right now, not while I’m still processing what’s happened and how I feel about it, but it’ll be worse if I don’t answer. He’ll get suspicious.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, forcing an overly bright tone. “How are you?”
“Iris,” he barks, ignoring me, “what’s this about you being dismissed by the school?”
Fuck.
He knows then.
My pulse scatters, and I sink onto a bench, ignoring the damp feeling through my coat.
“What?” I squeak.
“I received an email from the registrar’s office informing me that they’ve dismissed you due to your academic standing. Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“Theyemailedyou?” I ask in shock.
“Of course they did. I pay your tuition.”
I press my eyes shut as my blood turns to ice in my veins. I knew it was a bad idea to let him pay for college, even if I’d never have been able to afford it myself. A loan would have been better. My parents might be wealthy, but I’ve always done my best to stand on my own two feet, to live a life I can be proud of. And if not proud, well, at least I know it’s mine. It’smyseries of fuck-ups.
But I was at a pretty low point after losing my last job. Vulnerable enough to let Dad push me around. Like he always does.
“I can’t talk about this now,” I mumble, exhaustion tugging at me. All I want is a dozen of my favorite cupcakes, a gin and tonic, and bed.
“Oh yes you will,” he growls. I hear the scrape of his office chair on the wooden floor as he rises angrily from his desk. “You need to take some responsibility. How could you let this happen, Iris?”
I shiver, and it’s got nothing to do with the sub-zero temperatures. “I tried, Dad. Really, I did.” It’s the God-honest truth. I worked my fucking ass off, but it was never good enough. I can’t keep up with everyone else, no matter what I do.
“You didn’t try hard enough,” he counters. He takes a deep breath, as if attempting to calm himself down. “Now, you need to go back and demand an appeal.”
I blink. “I can do that?” That wasn’t one of the options the registrar gave me.
“Of course you damn well can. I’ll call the school myself, and…”
My mind drifts as he continues, thinking of the relief I felt a few moments ago when I knew I wouldn’t have to go back. When I knew I wouldn’t have to ever again feel the gut-churning anxiety that consumed me every time I showed up for class. It’s only now, as I’m forced to take a step back and face it, that I realize how long I’ve ignored this feeling.
“I can’t,” I blurt. “I can’t go back in there.”
There’s a long silence on the other end of the line. I cast my gaze along 116th Street, watching a group of students talking and laughing as they head onto campus. What must it be like to be that carefree?
Finally, Dad speaks, his voice low with anger. “You’re not dropping out, Iris.”
“Maybe I can take a break,” I say feebly, attempting to placate him. “I could reapply next year, or the year after…”
“That’s not an option. You’re going to see something through, for once.”
I know what I should say. What he wants me to say. But I can’t bring myself to do it.
“No,” I whisper, dashing a tear from my cheek. Thank God he can’t see me.
There’s silence for a beat. Then, “No?”
“I don’t…” I swallow. I’m twenty-six, for God’s sake, but he makes me feel like a child. “I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.”
Whoops. I didn’t mean for that to slip out. I half expect him to end the call and phone the school anyway, to drag me back in there, kicking and screaming.
Instead, he says in a voice that’s far too calm, “Fine.”
