Suddenly, inspiration strikes.
I’m not capable of cutting my parents out of my life, despite my threat, and honestly, I wouldn’t want to. I love them, despite their faults, and I think my dad is shrewd enough to realize this, but the horror in my mom’s eyes betrays her insecurities. And that’s the real crux of all our problems. They want to negotiate? Let’s negotiate to fix this once and for all.
“I didn’t mean that,” I breathe heavily. “I don’t want a life without you both in it, but if this level of crazy doesn’t change then there may come a day when I do, and I don’t want to get to that point. In all honesty, I was already considering a career with the Corps, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I will choose which position I take and that I won’t have a bodyguard if I join. You also have no right to demand I stop seeing Jackson, but he seems to be the only leverage I have to make you see reason.” I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it’s the only way I can think to save my relationship with my parents. “I won’t see him and I’ll even give you my phone and the note IF mom goes into therapy.”
I try not to focus on the many pairs of shocked eyes staring at me and instead end up thinking about how badly I’m about to hurt Jackson and in turn, myself.
Will he ever forgive me?
Can I find a way to get a message to him to explain?
It’s not a bad idea for us to wait until I’m slightly more durable before embarking on our intense – and probably still dangerous – relationship. And in the immediate future, I need my mom to get help.
She needs to stop being so obsessive and smothering me, but she genuinely needs help to accomplish that. She needs someone who can put the whole supernatural world into perspective for her so that she can trust that maybe I’ll live longer than I did the first time around.
Of course, I can’t ignore the voice shouting at me that given how Jackson has already lost me once, he’s probably the best person on the planet to look out for my safety.
My thoughts begin to spiral and thankfully, Dee steps forward and gives my hand an encouraging squeeze.
“You think I need therapy?” Whispers my mom.
“Yes. Can you honestly tell me you don’t?” I answer softly – it can’t be easy hearing that your child thinks you need professional help.
“It’s not a bad idea, Margot,” soothes my father, surprising me. “Sweetheart, she’s not a child and we can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want. If we threaten to cut her off, which is the opposite of what we want, Emilia still wouldn’t do what we want; she’d just forge forward without us. Her world is different from ours and it’s natural for that to be frightening, but she was born equipped to deal with it. My love, you’ve been increasingly stressed and anxious since she returned from Dartmouth and our solution was to increase the level of surveillance, but that didn’t work…for her or you. Instead of ensuring Emilia could always trust in her parents, we’ve alienated her, and instead of coming to terms with everything we’ve learned and our fears for her, we’ve become paranoid. It’s not just you, Sweetheart; I let this go too far, so, I think we should see a therapist together. What do you say?”
“I suppose we can’t continue like this, so if you think it’s best then…okay,” she answers quiet and reluctant.
“When you make the arrangements, then you can have my phone.”
It’s only now that they’re agreeing, I realize part of me was hoping they wouldn’t go for it so that I wouldn’t have to leave Jackson again.
“I know a therapist who is already aware of the supernatural world. Her name is Dr. King, would you like her number?” asks Wilhelmina.
“Please. Philips, could you make the call?” my dad asks.
Philips nods silently, takes the number from Wilhelmina and leaves the room to make the call.
In the awkward moment that follows, my dad folds my mum into a comforting embrace and I resolutely ignore Wilhelmina, who in my opinion has no business being here for this. I look at Tristan’s stony-faced expression and see a flicker of remorse, but it’s going to take a lot more than that to fix our relationship – if that’s even possible. The man spied on me more invasively than I ever could have imagined and constantly reported my whereabouts and actions to my parents like a misbehaving child; whatever trust we built as friends, he destroyed.
In this lonely moment, all I want is Jackson, but I’ve nailed the coffin shut on that one, so I turn to Dee instead.
“You’re really going to join me in San Fran?” she asks.
“I was thinking about joining the Corps anyway; we have way too much fun to go our separate ways. I don’t like how it’s come about, but it’s not something I wasn’t already considering.”
Just then Philips walks back into the room and confirms my parents’ first appointment with Dr. King for this coming Wednesday.
I’m tempted to ask for reports of their sessions to be emailed to me to make sure they’re going and see if they’re making any progress, but that would make me no better than them in the stalker stakes.
I take a deep breath and reluctantly hold up my end of the bargain and hand them my phone.
“Tristan, could you please go out and buy a replacement phone for Emilia?” my dad asks.
“I won’t take it if the security seal on the box is broken. I’m not having a phone that has been tampered with so that you can track me. Clean phone, unopened box,” I demand.
Tristan looks at my dad who nods his agreement before walking out the door. I wonder idly which phone he’ll pick for me… probably something shitty because now we hate each other.
“Will you call him and tell him what’s happened?” I ask, not needing to clarify that I’m referring to Jackson.
“And have him storming the campus before you’ve moved to the West Coast? Absolutely not,” snaps my mother.
I want to argue with her, but I was stupid enough to hand over my phone before I could negotiate for them to tell him.
So instead I walk toward the door with the intention of retrieving Jackson’s note as promised. There’s no point trying to hold it to ransom; they don’t want Jackson knowing the plan in case he attempts to stop it. And if I don’t get the note, they’ll just send Philips to riffle through my room instead; he’s going to follow me to make sure I don’t copy the note as it is.
Dee follows and puts herself between me and Philips just as Wilhelmina calls out to her. “Miss. Lauren, if you’d be so kind as to leave your phone here. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Vincent don’t want you calling Mr. Smoak on Emilia’s behalf.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
They’re all so determined to keep us apart, but there has to be a way to tell him what’s happened.
Chapter Fifteen
Dee and I finally get a moment’s peace after dinner.
Wilhelmina is in a meeting and Tristan left with my parents when they realized we wouldn’t be building any bridges until they see Dr. King.
After spending some time with Sophia, who’s recovering well, we end up sitting on my bed trying to process everything that happened today.