My father followed a moment later. "Oh, Grace," he said, shaking his head. Somehow the gesture conveyed more disappointment than concern, as though he were saying "you didn't listen to us and now look at you." He was older than my mother, but still looked sharp and sturdy and, like her, he was dressed to impress in a finely tailored charcoal suit. Impressions were important to my parents, even in a place like this. Perhaps especially in a place like this.
I didn't know where to even begin talking to them. They knew nothing of what I'd been through, nothing about who I was now. Their intentions for showing up here were probably good, in the most warped way possible, but that didn't mean anything good would come of it.
I felt that tingle at the back of my throat, that yearning for something to blot the world out. Obviously a drink wasn't possible though, so my body reacted the only way it knew how. The tears that had been ebbing from my eyes became a torrent. Of course my mother took this as a sign of incredible happiness, and soon I was embroiled in the most awkward, physically painful family hug in history.
"Look what they've done to you," my mother said, after I'd begged them to back off.
Seeing them was unnerving, almost surreal. I'd spent a lot of time since our falling out thinking of all the things I wanted to say to them, but now that the moment had arrived, I was lost for words. There was so much more going on inside me at that moment. The hurt they'd caused was a matchstick next to the bonfire left by Logan's flight.
All I could muster was a tiny nod.
"Are you comfortable?" my dad asked. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine," I said, which was obviously far from true, but all I wanted was for them to leave me alone.
"Really, anything at all," chimed my mother. "We're staying at a hotel just a few blocks away, and we'll be here as long as you need."
It was creepy to have them fussing over me again like nothing had ever happened, like there wasn't a fucking enormous unacknowledged elephant taking up seventy five percent of the room.
"We've been talking to the police," my dad continued. "They haven't caught the fiend that did this yet, but they're following some leads. Whoever it is won't escape justice."
"That's good," I replied. I was surprised to find I didn't really care about justice or retribution. Maybe later, but it wouldn't change anything now.
"I haven't seen Tom around," my father said with a trace of hesitation in his voice. My eyes darted to Joy, who just shrugged. Apparently nobody had told my parents anything more than they needed to know.
"Tom's dead, Dad." I searched their faces for some trace of happiness, because that's how I imagined they'd react. To their credit, I found none.
"I'm sorry to hear that," my father replied, his voice utterly neutral.
"Are you?" Part of me knew it was a bad idea to go down that path. I barely had the energy to keep talking, much less get into an argument. But I was pissed off. I was pissed off at the world for fucking me over. I was pissed off at Logan for his betrayal. And I was pissed off at my parents for waltzing in here and acting like everything was suddenly fine again.
"Just because we didn't agree with your decisions doesn't mean we don't care about your feelings."
"Really? Did you think that maybe kicking me out and cutting me off might hurt my feelings just a little?"
He didn't even have the grace to look guilty. "We were trying to help you. You have to know we've only ever wanted the best for you." The sad part was, I knew he believed that. My parents weren't cruel people, they just had an incredibly narrow perspective of the world. For them, everything fit into neat little boxes, and if something was astray, they'd push until it fit as well.
I closed my eyes momentarily, feeling light headed. My mother spotted a chance to diffuse the situation. "Surely we can put aside our differences for a little while. Right now you need your family."
My family was the last thing I needed, but they weren't going to leave, regardless of what I told them. They had me pinned in place for God knows how long, and they smelled blood. This was their chance to get me back on track.
"Right now, I need to sleep," I replied. I desperately wanted to get rid of them, but it was also the truth. It was frightening how exhausted I felt after just a few minutes of conversation.
"Of course," my mother said. "I've left our numbers on the table there. You call us any time, night or day."
"Thanks."
I wasn't sure I would actually drift off. Everything hurt, inside and out. But the moment I closed my eyes, the blackness rose up around me, familiar and welcoming.
Chapter Twenty Three