He frowns. “We discussed this already.”
“No.” My heart starts pounding harder. “You said no, and in the next breath you said I have no resources of my own, which is the truth. So this is a chance for me to finally earn some.”
He stops the car in the driveway and pulls up the parking brake. I wipe my clammy palms on my black skirt. He’s not going to do something drastic like kick me out of the house because I disobeyed, but standing up to him—defying him, even in this small way—makes me feel powerful, nervous, and relieved all at the same time.
“The bookstore is a nice place.” I put my hand on his arm. “You should stop by sometime, meet Fern and her daughter. I promise you’ll like them.”
He pulls his arm away and gets out of the car. I grab my book bag and hurry through the rain into the house. As has been the case for most of the past few weeks, the air inside is empty, devoid of Darius’s presence.
“I don’t want you to leave for the conference being upset with me.” I put my bag on a kitchen chair. “I just want you to understand that my getting a job and exploring other colleges is a good thing.”
“And I’d like you to understand that I’m not trying to stop you from being independent and having your own life.” He loosens his tie and glances at the clock. “I have to leave soon for the airport. We’ll have to finish discussing this when I get back.”
“Do you want me to drive you?”
“No, I’ll park there. It’s only for three days.”
“What about dinner? I can heat up leftovers.”
“That’s fine.” He leafs through the mail. “Darius won’t be joining us.”
“He’s been gone a lot lately.” Keeping my voice carefully neutral, I open the fridge and take out a container of taco filling.
“He’s been working on his book, which is excellent news.” Picking up the mail, my father starts down the hall. “I suspect the isolation is helping him focus.”
He disappears into his office. I go upstairs to change clothes.
Though I know we’re not finished with our discussion, we seem to have reached an uneasy détente. For now, at least. Being apart from each other for a few days will give my father time to really think about this. Deep inside, I sense he knows that for the first time, he’s the one who can’t refute what I said.
After stripping out of my skirt and blouse, I pull on jeans and a T-shirt before prepping dinner. We eat in silence, then he goes to his bedroom to finish packing.
Since I missed my afternoon classes, I don’t have any homework. In my room, I spread my Winsome Swift drawings out on my drafting table and study them with a critical eye.
Some of the art school applications require a portfolio of work, which I don’t yet have. Though I’ve become a little wary of Ms. Meadows since her insinuations about Darius, I feel like I could still ask for her help putting together a portfolio.
“Nell.” My father’s voice, tight and sharp, rises up the stairs and through my half-open bedroom door.
I go downstairs, pausing to twist the newel cap on the stair railing. I stop in the kitchen doorway.
All the breath leaves my lungs in one hard rush.
CHAPTER 28
Nell
My book bag is still on the chair, but the flaps are open and my folders and binders are strewn on the table. My father is standing next to them, his body a ramrod of fury, the air around him tense enough to break.
I stare at the black-and-white photos gripped in his hand. My vision goes in and out of focus.
“What are these?” He holds up the photos, his fingers creasing the thick paper.
“I…what were you doing looking through my bag?”
“I was looking for your college application folder.” His eyes are like metal. He shakes the photos. “What the hell are these?”
Even from a distance, I can’t look at the photos. I know exactly what he—what my father—was just looking at.
I’m sitting naked in the chair by the window, only my long hair partially covering my shoulders and torso. I’m looking directly at the camera, unsmiling. My pose is different in each of the six photos, but everything is bare—my breasts, my vulva, my scars.
Nausea roils in my belly. I extend a shaking hand. “Give those to me, please.”
“Who did this, Nell?” He throws the photos on the table, his eyes blazing. “Who took those photos?”
“No one.”
“Bullshit.” His mouth thins. “Was it Darius?”
A gasp chokes my throat. I jerk my gaze to his, expecting to see regret, disbelief, an apology for even thinking such a salacious thought—
“Was it Darius?” my father repeats.
“N-no.” I shake my head. I can’t pull in a breath. “Of…of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Then who?” His jaw works convulsively. “That kid you’ve been hanging out with? Or is this part of the little rebellious act you’ve been pulling lately? Do you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?”
“No, I—”
“Are you sneaking around, letting some kid take slutty pictures of you?”
“Dad, I took the photos!” Tears burn my eyes. I dart forward and grab the pictures, stuffing them back into my bag. “They’re self-portraits. It’s a…a form of photography I was experimenting with. God. Do you see now why I can’t stand all your rules? Why I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells? I can’t do anything different from what you want or expect without you thinking I’m going off the deep end.”
“Well.” He narrows his eyes. “You did once, didn’t you?”
Fuck you.
The words almost fly out of my mouth. I swallow them back, burning and painful.
“Leave my things alone.” I can’t look at him as I shove the folders into my bag. “Leave me alone.”
Clutching my book bag to my chest, I run back upstairs. The tears overflow before I even slam the door to my room. I’m shaking so hard my teeth are rattling. Humiliation and rage scorch me from the inside out.
Was it Darius?
God in heaven. What if my father had seen the photos Darius took of me in the living room? I’d been wearing clothes, but those pictures had been far more intimate, more naked, than the ones in my book bag.
Why would my father ask such a question? Has he noticed this strange new energy between me and Darius, even though I hardly know what it is? Does he suspect wrongdoing?
And if so…what does that mean for Darius?
I pull out the crumpled photos and rip them into pieces before throwing them in the trash. I suddenly experience an emotion I’ve never before felt toward my father.
Hate.
I hate the constraints he’s imposed on our lives. I hate his orders, his control, his fucking plans. I hate his rules and his fear and his rigid routine. I hate his friendship with Darius and his unwavering dedication to my mother. I hate that I’ve always needed him so much.
I hate that he makes me feel like I can never be more than the drab, ordinary girl I’ve always been. That this is all I am. Forever.